#fifteen lives anthology

[arangora]

Google doc with all the bungo stray dogs links :

Contains:

-All the light novels

-All the mangas and spin offs (gaiden, beast, wan ect)

-beast live action

-anime s1-4

-welcome to the hot springs CD

-stage play

-official art archive

Note : most of these are illegal websites and might have dangerous files, I do check these every once in a while but I might miss some. If you have the links to anything missing please send it my way so I can add it 💗 have fun reading / watching!!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou gay dogs #bsd light novel #stormbringer #dazais entrance exam #osamu dazai and the dark era #dark era dazai #bungo stray dogs gaiden #bsd gaiden #bsd 55 minutes #dazai and chuuya fifteen #dazai and chuuya 15 #bsd beast #beast live action #kunikida and katais magnificent days #the day i picked up dazai #bsd x chou chou alis special #bungo stray dogs anthology #bsd anthology #bsd wan #welcome to the hot springs #bungo stray dogs on stage #bsd on stage #my doc links 📘

[daisynik7]

Cure for a Hangover

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbor Kishibe, age gap (I’m thinking at least fifteen years, Kishibe pushing mid-forties, reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), alcohol consumption, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, pet names (sweetheart, angel, kiddo)

Summary: Kishibe is your mysterious, brooding, and significantly older next-door neighbor. You’ve lived beside him for a while now, only exchanging basic pleasantries out of politeness, never anything more. One night, he comes home drunk, or so he thinks. It’s not his door he’s slumped again; it’s yours.

Author’s Notes: It’s been a minute since I wrote for Kishibe and I really do miss it. This old man continues to do wonders to me, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @demonwoman (bc Kishibe using kiddo as a pet name is living in my head rent free thanks to you)

part 3 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

It’s not often that you’re met with a man slumped against your door, but here you are, staring down at your next-door neighbor, Kishibe, doing just that. 

It’s past two in the morning now, and you’ve just come back from your own night out with your friends. You’re not nearly as drunk as you were three hours ago, after pounding glasses of Chardonnay while watching cheesy romance movies at your best friend’s apartment. And you’re certainly not as inebriated as the man before you, who absolutely reeks of liquor, even from a small distance away. 

You inspect the scene thoroughly, unsure what to do in this scenario. Kishibe is basically a stranger to you. Sure, you’ve exchanged basic pleasantries here and there over that past year since you moved in. That’s as far as it goes. You have no idea what his profession is, though you have a solid guess as to what it could be, given his work attire and overall physique. While you’ve never run into one yourself, devils run rampart in Tokyo, hell-bent on causing chaos wherever they spawn. Kishibe looks like a Devil Hunter, whose job is to eliminate these monsters. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure, but you’ve never mustered the courage to ask him about it, leaving him to maintain his mysterious demeanor. 

However, right now, you don’t see a Devil Hunter in front of you. Instead, it’s a simple man who is very drunk and very much in your way.

Deciding to help him, because that’s the only choice you have if you want to get into your apartment, you kneel down to search his overcoat, patting the breast pocket for keys. When you find nothing, you move to his pants, retrieving only his phone. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring, blissfully unaware of your predicament in his drunken stupor. You take this time to study his face. He’s looks much older up close; not only that, he’s even more handsome than you originally thought. There’s a prominent scar running from his mouth to his jaw, surely an interesting story behind it. You’re tempted to trace it delicately with your finger, but you ultimately resist the urge, snapping out of it to investigate his phone for any clues. 

There are several missed calls and texts from a person named Kenji. You use the Face ID feature to unlock his phone, thanking the universe that even with his eyes shuts, it works. Not wanting to pry more than necessary, you check the most recent texts for the answer to your question: Where the hell are his keys?

Kenji: you left your keys at the bar, come back now. I’m closing up soon

Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass

Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow

You read over the messages once more, groaning quietly to yourself at your dumb luck. Desperate now, you resort to the next logical step.

“Hey,” you say, tapping him lightly on the cheek, rousing him awake. “Kishibe.”

Slowly, but surely, he opens his eyes, half-lidded, struggling to focus on you. “Huh?” His breath is heavy with liquor, most likely whiskey. His voice is deep and gravelly, and you hate admitting that’s it’s almost sexy. Well, not almost. It is sexy. 

Letting the inappropriate thought fade, you say, “You’re at the wrong apartment. This is mine.”

He blinks three times, opening his eyes properly to stare at you, expression confused. “Am I dead?”

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “No, you’re not.”

“Am I in heaven?”

You shake your head, repeating, “No, you’re not.”

“Then why is there any angel here with me?” He sounds sincere, and you can’t help but break out into a genuine smile. 

“I’m not an angel,” you reply, giggling. 

His lips curve into a cocky grin. “You sure? You look like one to me.” Cheeky bastard, hitting on you while he’s plastered. And look at you, finding it endearing when he does. 

Slightly more relaxed, you slide the phone into his breast pocket, standing up to unlock your door. You can’t just leave him out here all night, so you decide to let him stay with you until he’s sober enough to call a locksmith. You jiggle the keys, turning the knob to open the door, and suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and then a delayed, “Ow.” He’s laid flat in the middle of your doorway, hitting his head on the hardwood. You feel guilty, not having the foresight to see this coming. His body is much sturdier than you anticipated. 

You kneel down, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He winces, rubbing the back of his skull, then gives you a goofy smile. “I’ll be fine. Think I can get a kiss to make it feel better?”

You roll your eyes at him, once again unable to contain your laughter. “I’ll get you some ice. Let’s get you to the couch first, okay?”

Somehow, some way, whether it’s spurred by adrenaline or desperation to finally get some sleep in your own bed, you manage to haul him up by the armpits and drag him the short distance to your couch. You fluff a pillow and place it under his head, making it as comfortable as possible for him. “I’ll get the ice now.”

Before you can stand up, he grabs your wrist, gripping you tightly. “What about my kiss?”

“Nope. Not happening. I bet you don’t even know my name,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t respond, loosening his hold so you can get up. You fill a plastic bag with ice, returning to surround the back of his head with it. Eventually, he utters your name, eyes closed while he relaxes to your touch. He peeks at you with one eye open, waiting for you to confirm. 

You nod, grinning. “So, you do know my name.”

“Can I get my kiss now?” he teases, gazing at you.

You shake your head. “Definitely not. I will not take advantage of a drunk person, that’s fucked up.”

He sighs, exhaling deeply, broad chest rising and falling. “Yeah, you’re right. I knew you were a good girl.”

You try not to hang on to those words, especially the last two, already fluttering below your belly over it. Grabbing his hand to replace yours, you instruct him to keep it there while you return to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of water. Within the short amount of time you’re gone, he falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto to the ice pack. 

You smile to yourself, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table to continue attending to his minor injury. After a while, when you notice that there isn’t any bump or swelling developing, you stop icing him. He snores peacefully in a deep sleep, no sign of waking up anytime soon. As gingerly as you can, you remove his overcoat, draping it over the back of the couch. You set his phone next to the glass of water, for easy access. His tie looks tight around his collar, so you loosen it. Finally, you remove his shoes from his feet, laying them by the front door near your own pair. You’re certain he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling like shit, so you place a bottle of painkillers by his phone in case he needs them. 

It's past three now by the time you’re dressed down in your pajamas and snuggled in bed. You keep the door ajar, listening to Kishibe’s steady breathing in the living room, treating it like white noise to help you fall fast asleep. 

~~~

Kishibe wakes up with his head throbbing. He stares up at the ceiling, not recognizing it as his own. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this isn’t his apartment. 

He turns, seeing his phone, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers on the coffee table arm’s reach of him. Slowly, he sits up, grimacing from the pain, downing all the water in three large gulps. He checks his phone, thankfully still on its last leg of battery. It’s almost eleven on a Saturday morning and he’s sure Kenji, his bartender friend, is already awake, preparing for the day. 

“Kenji,” he mutters, throat hoarse from last night’s festivities. 

His friend first berates him for forgetting his keys, then laughs when Kishibe explains that somehow, some way, he managed to fall asleep on someone else’s couch. He could have woken up in worst conditions, that’s for sure. 

Kenji agrees to stop by after running his errands, in about two hours or so. Beggars can’t be choosers, so Kishibe has no choice but to wait. When they’re phone conversation is over, he sinks back into the cushions, trying to piece everything together from just a few hours ago. He recalls snippets of it, and he grows increasingly embarrassed as the memories play vividly in his brain. He’s certain he called his neighbor an angel, and even more sure that he was begging her for a kiss. How shit-faced was he to compel him to do that? Obviously, very. How could he let his intrusive thoughts blurt out of his mouth like that?

Call it cliché or whatever, but yes, Kishibe is attracted his young, pretty neighbor next door. However, he’s held off on making a move because he doesn’t want to make things between them awkward. Once he crosses that line, their relationship gets more complicated. And the devil knows that Kishibe doesn’t do complicated. So, he’s content with gazing from afar, exchanging basic small talk with one another whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s as far as it’s gone with her, and that’s as far as it will go. 

Of course, that’s all fucked up now thanks to his drunken antics from last night. 

Before he can make his move, he hears a bedroom door creak open from behind him. She comes out, looking fresh out of the shower, dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms that are short enough to expose that tantalizing curve right below her ass. Surely, she’s doing this on purpose, right? She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now, there’s no way she doesn’t. 

He clears his throat, preparing to explain himself right off the bat to avoid an awkward confrontation. But he’s rendered momentarily speechless when she flashes a bright smile at him. “Morning, Kishibe.”

He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”

She steps towards him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch by his feet. Her shorts ride up and he’s sure he can see the lacey outline of her panties. Or maybe it’s just his perverse imagination, who knows at this point. “How are you feeling?” she asks, genuinely concerned.

He grunts. “Like shit,” he answers. “But it could be worse.”

“That’s the spirit,” she teases, patting his knee. 

His head pounds from his hangover, though it’s his heartbeat that thumps loudly against his eardrums, aroused by her touch. He has got to control himself. Doing his best to distract her from the raging boner growing beneath his slacks, he asks, “What happened last night?”

She explains her account of the evening in detail, her voice soft and soothing, cautious of his current headache. She leaves out the parts where he embarrasses himself, which he’s grateful for, not wanting to relive the humiliation. When she’s done, she offers, “If you want, you can take a shower while you wait for your friend to arrive. I can get you some towels. I even have a toothbrush you can use.”

He raises a brow at her. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?”

“Do you need someone to tell you that you stink? I thought it was pretty obvious given the state you’re in,” she quips, matching his expression.

He laughs, genuinely amused by her response. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

She leads him into her bathroom, showing him how to work the knob for hot water, pointing out the shampoo, conditioner, and soap kept neatly on a corner shelf of her bathtub. She lingers for a bit while he starts the shower, then hands him a clean towel and new toothbrush. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

Surprisingly, he makes it through his shower without succumbing to the temptation to touch himself. As degenerate as he can be, he still has some sense of respect and pride in him, enough to resist masturbating in his neighbor’s shower. He does, however, give her shampoo and conditioner bottles an extra-long sniff.

He dries off, scrubbing his hair with the towel, cleaning behind his ears with cotton swabs, checking his piercings. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth, making sure to go the full two minutes, scrubbing his tongue after. He hasn’t made the best impression so far, so he figures he should try to change that now, if there’s still a chance. Feeling fresh and clean, he stares down at his clothes in a pile on the floor. Even from where he stands, he can smell them, almost like they’ve been diluted in liquor and musk. Without thinking, he steps out of the bathroom, calling out her name. “Got any clothes I could borrow?”

She’s in the kitchen when he comes out, leaning over the stove as she cooks something that smells wonderful. She turns to face him, staring wide-eyed as he stands almost naked in the middle of her living room. Her gaze drifts down his bare body, lingering on his sculpted abs, then at the towel wrapped precariously around his waist. She snaps out of it in time, saying, “I don’t. Sorry.”

“My clothes fucking stink and I don’t want to wear them right now. Mind if I just walk around like this?” 

“Sure. I mean, I don’t mind.” She focuses her attention back to the pan, continuing to cook what looks like scrambled eggs. 

He knows this is a bizarre request, though this day couldn’t get any more bizarre than it already is, can it?

~~~

You’re not exactly sure how to refuse Kishibe’s request to walk around half naked in your apartment, so instead, you agree to it, claiming that you don’t mind. In actuality, you mind very much, simply because you can’t help but fantasize about the delicious sight beneath the towel. One wrong move like a bump to the hip is all it takes to see that pesky cover fall down. Geez, when did you become such a pervert? And for an old man?!

Desperate for a distraction, you maintain focus on the eggs in front of you. While he was in the shower, you decided to start breakfast, something hearty to combat that hangover of his. Scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, comforting foods to soak up the remaining alcohol left in his body. He makes his way towards you, scooting a chair out from the table to take a seat. He strategically maneuvers himself to not accidentally expose you, though you really don’t mind if he does. Again, perverted thoughts, shame on you!

Finished cooking, you scoop the eggs out onto his plate and the other meant for you. He thanks you, taking a whiff of his breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Smells good.”

You pass him another glass of liquid, this one filled with an electrolyte drink meant for hydration after a night of drinking. “Drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”

He eyes it suspiciously, then takes a gulp without questioning it further. 

The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, ignoring the obvious tension hanging in the air. From your peripheral, you notice the glint of steel hooked to his ear lobe. Piercings, which you never noticed before. Sexy.

He ends up finishing his entire meal, popping a few painkillers to chase it all down. He even chugs the electrolyte drink, claiming it isn’t so bad. While you take the last few bites of your toast, he excuses himself to brush his teeth again. You’re surprised at how hygienic he is, considering how he appeared before you just mere hours ago, hunched against your front door covered in his own liquor-soaked sweat. You take the plates, stacking them in the sink to wash for later. How much longer is his friend going to take to arrive here? You’re getting nervous, thinking of other ways to fill this gap of time without making your attraction to him so obvious. 

You sit on the couch, turning the TV on to a random sitcom with the volume low, listening to the rush of water from the faucet inside the bathroom. When it stops, you try to find a comfortable position to sit in. It’s only now that you realize how short your pajama bottoms are; they ride all the way up your thighs and you can practically see your underwear through them. It’s too late to change when Kishibe returns, still clad in just a towel, taking a seat on the other side of the couch a safe distance beside you. It’s silent for a brief moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this odd situation. You shift nervously, tugging at the hem of your shorts. 

“Thank you,” he starts, avoiding your gaze, staring ahead at the television. “For taking care of me. Must have been annoying to deal with a drunken old man.”

You smile, relaxing. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there like that. Someone could have taken advantage of you.”

“Like you almost did?” he smirks, facing you now.

Laughing, you meet his gaze. “You remember that?”

“I do.” He spreads his legs apart just barely, towel draped dangerously over his knee, almost ready to slip.

You swallow hard, avoiding a glance in that direction, heat surrounding your cheeks. “Well, I was a good girl, remember? I didn’t do anything.”

He hums, nodding slowly, eyes drilling into yours. “You were a very good girl.”

Your breath hitches and you find yourself gravitating towards him, scooting closer. He grins, the scar on his cheek curving with it, voice low and seductive. “You gonna be bad for me now?”

“Only if you want me to,” you purr, sliding your hand beneath the towel, up his thigh, arousal pooling between your legs. Fuck it. He wants it, you want it. There’s no denying it anymore. 

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pulling you in for a kiss. His mouth is cool and minty against yours, the remnants of toothpaste lingering in his spit. You slurp it up, hungry for any taste of him. He removes the towel from his waist, shrugging it to the floor, leaving him completely naked. You glance at his lap and bite back a moan, amazed at how fucking big he is, way too eager to have him inside you, desperate to be filled to the brim.

“Not bad for an old man, huh?” he chuckles, wrapping his fist around the shaft, stroking it.

“Not bad at all,” you smile, stripping out of your clothes hastily, kneeling between his legs with your mouth open.

He feeds you his cock, humming when you surround him in your wet heat, swallowing him to the hilt. One hand grips the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down his shaft. “You’re filthy, taking your neighbor’s cock like this. Who knew you’d be such a slut?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with his other hand. “Touch yourself while I fuck this filthy mouth. Get that pretty pussy wet for me.”

You obey, spurred on by his vulgarity, reaching for your arousal, rubbing your throbbing clit with fast fingers. His cock hits the back of your throat and you guzzle him down to resist gagging, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips slightly, enraptured by you. With his thumb, he brushes away a tear welling at the corner of your eye, pulling out halfway. “Don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. It’s okay if I’m too much for you.”

You release him completely, moving down to his balls, nuzzling your nose to them. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

He clicks his teeth, beckoning you on the couch, almost like you’re being scolded for something you weren’t supposed to do. You roll your eyes, sitting beside him begrudgingly. He leans close to you, hot on your ear, one hand sliding between your legs while the other continues to stroke his dick. “I want to touch you too. That okay?”

You whine in response, tugging him in for a passionate kiss. He massages deep circles around your clit, fingers squelching from your slick gathering along your entrance. “I want a taste,” he growls, splitting apart your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt. 

You nod, sinking into the couch, relinquishing all control to him. You let your pleasured moans speak for you as he dives into your pussy, eating you out sloppily. His facial hair grazes against you with each careful stroke of his tongue and you ache to see his chin shiny with your cum. Eventually, he slips inside you, pumping two digits in and out, mouth still working your bud. Soon, it becomes too much and you’re gushing for him, whimpering his name with ragged breaths, soaking his face in your essence. 

He chuckles, the vibrations resonating to your clit, causing you to twitch with overstimulation. “That’s my girl, making such a mess for me.”

“Fuck me, Kishibe,” you breathe out, craving to be stuffed full of him. You’re reeling from your high, and if he’s not inside you soon, you’re sure you’ll go insane.

He hoists you up onto his lap, precum oozing from the tip of his dick. “How about you fuck me? Show me how much of a slut you are.”

Too fucked out to argue, you lift up on your knees, position him to your wet hole, sinking down slowly. He slides in easily, pussy sleek from your previous orgasm. It’s better than you imagined, every inch of him stimulating every inch of you. You savor it, rocking against him slowly. He kisses along on your neck, trailing to your nipples to suckle on them. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans, thrusting up into you to match your rhythm. “Take this cock however you like. It’s all yours.”

You bounce on him faster, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss him. He palms your ass cheeks, squeezing them in his firm grip, delivering a few loud smacks that echo off the walls of your living room, stinging your skin. “Fuck, I knew you were a good girl. Knew it the moment I met you,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. “Always wanted you like this.”

You kiss him harder at his confession, your chest swelling, pussy fluttering. You’re approaching another climax, teetering on the edge. As if he senses it, he tightens his hold on you, fucking into you faster, deeper. “Come for me, angel. Come on this cock.”

And you do, clenching him with your orgasm, making him mutter, “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming with you.” He shoots his load inside you, filling you up, just like you wanted. 

It takes a moment for the two of you to catch your breaths, relaxing into each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses without speaking. You study his face again, similar to how you did just several hours before, when he was slumped against your door, drunk. You thought he was handsome then, even more so now. “How’s your hangover?” you ask, breaking the silence. 

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Much better.”

#kishibe #kishibe x reader #kishibe csm #kishibe smut #kishibe chainsaw man #kishibe x you #csm kishibe #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #to all the boys who live next door #anthology series

[dellalyra]

Family Formation Masterlist

Satoru and Y/N make a jigsaw family together. 18+ MDNI Ao3

series headcanons and extras

series drabbles

An anthology, some from their high school days through raising the Fushiguro's and every other stray Gojo brings home.

Part One Your boyfriend turns up at your doorstep, with two kids, one looking uncannily like the man who killed him. Part Two The first years take a shopping trip, and Megumi calls you mom. Satoru is a little shit, but the best dad. Part Three The Gojo's share a soft, warm moment with Yuuji after an unexpected midnight run in.

Part Four A special moment follows you and Satoru going full protective parents on the kids Principal.

Part Five Before her first date, Tsumiki asks how you and Satoru got together - but, she’ll have to hear the ahem, abridged PG-13 version of the story.

Part Six Megumi comes home for the weekend, and he needs some Mom advice.

Part Seven The newest addition to the patchwork family arrives, and is welcomed with open arms.

Part Eight

Yuuta joins the family, and the events of JJK0 are explored.

Part Nine

Satoru discovers the extent of readers cursed technique.

Part Ten

The school’s exchange event endangers your family, but it’s okay, mom and dad are here to help.

Part Eleven

Deja vu visits you when your son loses his best friend.

Part Twelve

He’s home. He’s here. Maybe, you can mend the shattered pieces of your lives.

Part Thirteen

Megumi asks you about the strange unknown man he fought in Shibuya.

Part Fourteen

Shibuya

Part Fifteen

Y/N has the flu.

Part Sixteen

The kids love Uncle Nanamin.

Part Seventeen

The journey to bring Akio Gojo into the world.

Part Eighteen

SOCIAL MEDIA PROFILES The Originals (The High School Years) The Kids (Current Era)

REQUESTS OPEN FOR THIS SERIES! <3

Also send in questions or asks for headcanons on the series I love that stuff <33333

#jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jjk au #dad!gojo

[jimhines]

2022 Writing Income

It’s that time again – for fifteen years now I’ve been writing an annual blog post about my income as a writer. Money tends to be an uncomfortable, even taboo topic, but I think it’s important to help counter the myths that we’re all multimillionaires living in Glass Onion-style mansions. (Side note: If anyone wants to pay millions of dollars for my book, I’ll happily update this blog post from my private island mansion.)

Remember, every writer’s career is different, and I’m only one data point.

Prior Years: Here are the annual write-ups going back to 2007: 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021.

In 2016, instead of a personal income write-up, I did a survey of almost 400 novelists about their income.

My Background: I’m a primarily “traditionally published,” U.S.-based SF/F author with 15 books in print from major New York publishers. The first of those books came out from DAW in 2006. I have an agent, and have been with them since about 2004.

I’ve self-published a middle grade fantasy and a few short collections. I’ve also sold about 50 short stories to different magazines and anthologies.

I’ve never hit the NYT or USA Today bestseller lists.

I’m currently the sole parent of a teenager (at home) and a 22-year-old (at college). I have a day job that’s just over half-time, both for the paycheck and the benefits.

2022 in Summary: There’s no gentle way to say this. The last several years have kind of sucked. Losing my wife to cancer in 2019 completely derailed my writing. I was hoping 2022 would be a comeback year, but life had other plans…

I did write and sell two new short stories and one nonfiction piece, which was nice. I’ve got a finished middle grade book that’s been on submission for a while. I finished a standalone fantasy that’s been sitting with my publisher for a while.

Normally, my editor is pretty quick about responding, but last year wasn’t normal for DAW, either. DAW was acquired by Astra House. A lot of their time and energy went into that deal. I’m hoping for the best, but things still haven’t settled into the new “normal.”

Last year did see the release — finally — of Terminal Peace, the third book in the Janitors of the Post-Apocalypse series. I’m thrilled and relieved to see that book in print, but it came out right in the middle of the Astra House acquisition, which may have impacted things like promotion and publicity.

I also finished the first draft and started revising a new standalone middle grade fantasy with series potential.

2022 Income: The biggest check was the publication payment for Terminal Peace. All total, before taxes and various expenses, the writing brought in $13,957.16. While that’s absolutely nothing to sneer at, and I’m grateful for the success, it’s also a dropoff from the past couple of years. To be blunt, if you look at the cumulative graph, things have been slumping a bit.

Income Breakdown:

Patreon has been a small but steady and helpful source of income. My thanks to everyone for that!

As usual, my U.S. novels are the biggest piece of the pie. The short fiction category is a bit higher this year, thanks to those two new stories. I didn’t self-publish anything new in 2022, but if that middle grade book doesn’t sell, I’d like to publish that one later this year.

Novels (U.S. editions): $8,542.83

Novels (Non-U.S. editions): $473.25

Self-Published: $1158.24

Short fiction: $892.86

Audio: $521.04

Patreon: $1668.94

Other: $700

I mentioned earlier that things have been in a bit of a slump, and I need to focus on breaking out of that. Some things I can’t currently control. Tomorrow I could wake up to an offer from DAW on the book they’ve got, and maybe an email from my agent that the middle grade title he’s been shopping around went to auction and got a six-figure advance. But I can’t make these things happen.

Priority #1 is to keep writing. If I’m not doing that, other goals are pretty much moot.

Priority #2 is to figure out some alternate options. It may be time to put more time and effort into self-publishing as a complement to my traditionally published work.

The biggest thing making me anxious is that I’m pretty much out of contract. The paperback of Terminal Peace comes out this year, but for the first time in about 15 years, I don’t have the security, the luxury, or the deadlines of a signed contract. In some ways, this is freeing: I can write whatever I want. But there’s no guarantee as to when things will see print. Submitting to the traditional publishers is a long, slow process…

From talking to other writers who’ve been doing this a while, I’ve learned that pretty much every career has its ups and downs. Personal, pandemic, and publisher issues have been a bit of a perfect storm for me these past few years, but I’m not going anywhere. After 27 years as a writer, I’m excited to see what comes next.

Wrap Up:

I hope this has been helpful. As always, feel free to share the post and/or ask questions.

[aroacehanzawa]

mary h.how many bsd novels are there i thought it was just the agency aku one and the dazai one but theres more apparently?? how many different bsd spin offs are there i am so confused

OHHHH BOYS. BESTIE YOU ARE NOT READY. THERE ARE SO MANY. and i know this because i own every single novel that has an english release (i'm linking all the ones that do):

Osamu Dazai's Entrance Exam - this is the one with the Azure Messenger, infamously adapted into the present day in the middle of season 1 when it's actually set 2 years in the past as Dazai's entrance exam into the ADA.

The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency - what the title says, currently being adapted in the beginning of season 4. The novel also includes a short story set the day before Atsushi's entrance exam about the ADA planning what his exam should be.

Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era - this is one of the Dazai ones, about his time in the mafia with Ango and Oda, adapted in the beginning of season 2.

Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen - another Dazai one, the one (poorly) adapted at the beginning of season 3, about how Chuuya joined the mafia. Has a currently ongoing manga adaptation.

Storm Bringer - sequel to Fifteen, longest of all the novels by far, set when Dazai and Chuuya are 16 and we find out more about Chuuya's origin story. And so much more, it really is a thicc novel.

55 Minutes - the second longest novel after Storm Bringer yet the least talked about (despite how much it elaborates on skill singularities and the nature of abilities). It's a self-contained story of the ADA going to solve a case on an artificial island off the coast of Yokohama, featuring two new ability users H. G. Wells and Jules Verne (hence a relatively sci-fi heavy novel and i wrote a 2k+ word essay analysing all the science behind it lmao)

Dead Apple - novelisation of the movie with some extra scenes and more elaboration on some details in the movie. Also has an ongoing manga adaptation with official english release.

BEAST - this is the Akutagawa in the ADA and Atsushi in the PM one, with a completed manga adaptation (also released in english) as well as a live-action movie that came out last year.

Gaiden (Another Story): Ayatsuji Yukito vs. Kyogoku Natsuhiko - the novel has no english release yet, but it's a spin-off about different ability users and i think Ango is the only recurring character from the main series there. There is an ongoing manga adaptation which does have an official english release.

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - i don't think this one is formally released yet as it was a bonus novel given out at the screening of the BEAST movie. It's divided into Side A and Side B and i haven't read this one yet but i believe it's about how Dazai and Oda first met, where each side follows the other's perspective. There's a completed fan-translation of both sides by @popopretty.

Kunikida and Katai's Magnificent Days - this is a really sweet short story about Kunikida and Katai's friendship and i have no idea where the official version is from but there is a fan-translation of it you can read here.

In addition to BEAST and Gaiden there is also Wan! which is the super cute casual chibi spin-off manga with no stakes and no angst and only vibes, it is still ongoing and has an official english release. Some of the chapters were adapted into the Wan! anime series with 12 episodes (they are shorter episodes of 10 min each) and it is literally free therapy and will give you a year's worth of serotonin!!

There is also the bsd anthology series, which are side stories written and illustrated by different mangakas, there is no official english release that i know of but you can find fan-translations of some of the side stories here and there online.

We also have bsd mayoi or Tales of the Lost, the mobile gacha game which also includes a high school AU storyline (bsd gakuen)!

Other than these, there are also several stage plays, although it's harder to find content on these in english since they are only performed in Japan.

Bsd fans are truly the most well-fed fans of all time sometimes i forget how much content we have and still we keep getting more, it's unreal

#the bsdcu (bungou stray dogs cinematic universe) is HUGE there are so many stories that i have never known hunger since becoming a bsd fan #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd light novels

[versegm]

If you read indie books play indie games listen to indie musik or generally appreciate any form of art by lesser-known people my challenge for you is to comment on this post with at least one recommendation for a work you wish was better-known. The more obscure it is the better.

For now here are some of mine:

Love Letter - 18+ Trans-Gay Zine. It's all in the title, a short zine on being a trans dude who loves other dudes.

Inuit Uppirijatuqangit - ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐅᑉᐱᕆᔭᑐᖃᖏᑦ. "A hidden object game in which users explore 4 unique areas in and around an Inuit community." Short game to learn native myths & sayings.

Longsummer Night, an anthology of monster romances. It's got like fifteen stories there's got to be SOMETHING you'll like in here (personally I would have paid full price for "Labris" alone this shit blew my tits off)

Player Two is Unprepared, a one-page satyrical RPG making fun of ya boy Ready Player One. It's fucking hilarious I was giggling the entire time I read this.

The Unicorn's Beard, a short story about a doctor being hired to take care of the queen's unicorn.

Pine Sap, a poetry collection. "That's just the heart talking, you can never trust those. pick a more stable organ to listen to, like the spleen, or the gallbladder” lives rent-free in my head.

A Strip of Velvet, a 18+ monster romance featuring hunters and old gods.

Fire and Wolf, the book I won't shut the fuck up about, YA sci-fi/fantasy about kids accidentally pulling an NPC out of a VR videogame.

Btw if yourself dabble in creative endeavors you can self promote on this post too go wild.

#momo if you wanna rec underhero and other games now's your chance

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 2. EVAN BUCKLEY

A/N: spoke it into existence and we get to see the 118 in just a few months! Too excited but disappointed about station 19. Anyways…here’s something fun??? and a little more my speed for the holidays.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + I’m using: 20.) Caught Under the Mistletoe (teasing, shy, “It’s tradition”)

Synopsis: in which a moody reader wishes they could spend the holidays elsewhere and away from “the most wonderful time of the year,”…until Buck decides to walk through their childhood home.

WARNINGS: reader isn’t a Christmas lover by any means + going through a breakup—10 points for you if you can place the connection, language, family resentment & use of y/n + also gender-neutral friendly!

*GIF BELONGS TO @fireladybuckley !!!

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩

There were a combination of things that irritated you and Christmas happened to be one of them. Your family was one of those families that happened to be obsessed with Christmas and any sort of gathering, always have been and probably always will be—until they leave this earth. They were the neighbors that were welcoming to any and everyone and encouraged people to come on over with any shindig they threw. Unfortunately for you, you got stuck with attending this Christmas gathering because you moved back to Rhode Island right after you quit being a firefighter.

It was still a topic of many gossiping conversations with your mom’s “good friend,” deciding to bring it up in the living room, “y/n, do you ever want to be married? When are you going to start having a family of your own? Surely you must have found someone in sunny LA?”

Little did she know you did and in Chicago. You were surprised your mother took your boundaries into consideration when sharing certain information to her good friend…or did she know and was simply trying to get a rise out of you? Miriam was “good” at doing that.

You never liked Miriam, sorry not sorry. Mainly because she always had a opinion and liked to compare you to your older siblings. Your older brother was finally engaged to his long time girlfriend who had a face of a model, worked for a successful tech company, while also being a composer on the side and always had a good head on his shoulders. Then the middle child, your older sister was pregnant with twins and recently stepped down from being a pilot after almost fifteen years; was always the charmer and “favorite” according to friends of the family.

“I’ll start as soon as you stop scamming the elderly into marrying you so you can collect a check after they pass,” you smiled sweetly at Miriam, who’s mouth dropped and your older sister fought back a snicker from beside you in the sitting room, “I’m going to get a refill.”

You were just thankful your mother wasn’t near to hear this but you were sure with the snitch she called a best friend, she would repeat it and you would get a earful at some point tonight. Nonetheless you received a wink from your god-father and dad’s best friend up ahead, who was the designated pianist of the night and just finished up a tune by Nat King Cole.

Judah, your godfather was always lending a ear to listen since you were young and it seemed to still be the same sentiment more than your own parents but! That’s a different story for another day. You had to relish in the overload of wreaths that decorated every cabinet in your childhood kitchen, lightly scoffing and shaking your head as you filled up the flute with more champagne.

Sure you didn’t want to spend the holidays sulking but it only seemed to kick in more once people always felt the need to butt into your life. They didn’t speak on your accomplishments because it was never deemed as good enough, it was always a rule to follow into your family’s footsteps. Your mom’s a respectable elementary school teacher who hosts book clubs on Sunday’s with once strangers turned friends, your dad builds sailboats and is heavy involved in charity work and not just to say he did it but because of his own tough upbringing, your brother’s traveling all over the world due to his craft of being a composer and is so in love with his soon to be wife Alani, who’s also involved in building medical centers for poor communities—not just on her native land of Hawaii but countries as well, and your sister always knows just what to say to any and everyone, she’s so likable and building her family with a great guy, who isn’t just putting on for the cameras since he happens to be a well-known athlete.

Then there’s you…the sibling that’s just floating through life at thirty-one years old. Back at home with their parents after giving up a job that you thought you saw yourself doing up until retirement. Your head’s always been in the clouds but when your eyes were set on something you weren’t ever afraid to give it a try. Thats exactly what you did choosing to go to the academy out in California and worked your ass off to be a firefighter. You weren’t a fan of what people said after your severe injury…you just wanted to move on and always felt like you would be a firefighter at heart no matter what.

Most didn’t get that and it wasn’t okay with you but that didn’t stop you from putting one finger in the air.

Life will always lead you places and Rhode Island wasn’t your first choice but it was your best choice with the way the world shifts. Which is why you just wanted to get this holiday over with so it didn’t feel like you were constantly sinking from the inside out. The pretty lights, delicious eats, spending time with family, and finding joy was supposed to be a given but instead you were just ready to kick this year to the fucking curb for good.

If anyone asked you, New Years was way better because you can always start over especially if the year prior was not it for you. However one good thing came out of this year, you were one step closer to getting that home in New Mexico.

It took drumming on the counter to bring you out of your thoughts, making you snap your eyes at your brother who had a wicked grin on his round face. After pulling a face, you side eyed him, “what, Marcus?”

“Is that anyway to talk to your big brother?” He leaned against the counter, at pure ease.

Sipping at the flute, the bubbly went down nicely before you popped your tongue at the after taste then you responded, “what did you do?”

The thirty-seven year old sighs, “I didn’t do anything but you might want to send that energy to Larissa.”

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you craned your neck to see back into the sitting room but couldn’t see your very pregnant sister anywhere. Shrugging your shoulders you turn back to the amusement on your brother’s face, “I don’t see her anywhere, so stop with the games and just spill.”

The both of you turned to the new voice that enters the kitchen from the left, “There you are! Look who I’ve found outside.”

If there was one person you wanted to push into the fireplace, now make it two, meaning you adding your sister to that list. Your eyes burned into her pretty beaming smile as she lightly jabbed a thumb in Evan Buckley’s direction. From behind them you spotted your brother-in-law, Kheri ready to enter the kitchen from the same opposite end but abruptly stopped as he easily picked up on what was happening and spun back around, hoping not to be seen by Larissa.

“Uh hey, y/n.” Evan awkwardly waved in your direction before you clenched your eyes shut and deeply exhaled.

Marcus whispers from your right, “that’s what.”

“I got it, Mark.” You hissed while he raised his hands in surrender, letting out a low whistle that sounded just perfect.

Evan glanced back and forth between the siblings, frowning, “I’m getting the sense that you were blindsided about me coming.”

A cackle bubbled past your lips while Larissa bounced on her toes, “I may have forgotten to mention it but when a party is going on…you just get wrapped up in so many other things.”

Evan nodded his head at this but he didn’t entirely believe that.

“Bullshit,” Marcus coughed out before smiling at Evan.

Larissa added, “I thought that you would be happy to see a friendly face here, y/n. I mean—you hate everyone else so…voila! You’re welcome.”

You declared, “If you weren’t pregnant with my nephews, I might just beat your ass to sleep with a lump of coal.”

“Hot coal or cold?” Larissa hummed, tapping her dimpled chin.

You scoffed, “I’d let you pick bitch.”

“How sweet,” Larissa winked as she turned back to pat Evan on the shoulder, “as you can see, this is a loving household and you’re only going to make it better for my dear sibling. So thank you so much for coming, Evan Buckley.”

Evan tilted his head to the side at this whole interaction, breathing out a laugh, “well…you kinda bullied me to so…”

“Oh is that how the conversation went down?” Marcus shoved some chips into his mouth, ignoring the glare you sent him.

“But,” Evan added, “I wanted to be here, it was the right thing to do and I missed you guys. Not really the east coast since it’s pretty damn cold here, man i keep forgetting that but it’s always nice to see a white Christmas and some faces that feel like home you know?”

Larissa placed her hand on her chest, “now wasn’t that beautiful, y/n?”

“So beautiful that I almost want to vomit on you, Larissa.” You coo at the Bob-wearing woman while Marcus continues watching this match.

Larissa scowled, “stop being a Scrooge and just be glad that Otis was busy.”

*Jazz music stops playing*

“What?” You gritted at the mention of your recent breakup.

Flights out to Chicago tended to get pricer and tricker during the whole pandemic but lucky for you, you managed your money much better now.

“Wrong thing to say,” Marcus mumbles, seeming to be the only one in the room that was aware that this was a touchy subject.

Swallowing you turned to the eldest in the room, “Did you know about that too, Mark?”

Marcus sighs, “I was there for that conversation yes…but I didn’t think Rissa was serious about Buckley after the call with Otis didn’t exactly work out.”

You couldn’t grasp why they—Larissa would think it would be okay to go behind your back and call Otis in the first place?!

“Is this what you’re gonna be like now, Ris? Trying to mold my love life and be in my business because you’re too bored with motherhood?” You snapped at the thirty-five year old who looked taken aback.

Larissa slowly speaks, “woow! That was kinda hurtful…I was just trying to do something nice because you always get like this around this time of the year and I figured a person you deeply adore would cheer you up but obviously I was wrong.”

Deeply adore felt like another stab to you.

Holding your hands out, you say enough just by that action which makes Larissa roll her eyes. She turns to the sea eye colored man and says, “Good luck with that one, the sticks pretty far up their ass this evening.”

Laughing to yourself, you don’t bother watching your sister leave the kitchen and turn back to the fridge in search of the desserts instead.

“Well…that was not as entertaining as I would have liked but you know that comment wasn’t cool right?” Marcus says while you send him a middle finger from inside the fridge, “noted but you better be over this damn attitude by the morning.”

Here you are in your thirties and you still had your brother thinking he can boss you around.

He says a few words to Buck and once the coast is clear, you spin back around to place the fruitcake on the large island counter. Just staring at the dessert makes you further nauseous and you motion with your eyes, “want a slice?”

“…only if you’ll join me?” Evan sucks air through his teeth, trying to put on a smile although it was more of a grimace.

You snicker, “don’t say what you think I want to hear. I wouldn’t feed this to Dudley.”

Evan begins to look around at the mention of the old bloodhound, “no way! He’s still alive?”

“Very much and probably sticking up the house somewhere away from everyone,” you laugh at the thought of the gassy dog as you pick up the cake, analyzing it in disgust before making your way to the garbage.

Evan nodded, “Ah so like it’s owner?”

“Watch it Buckley,” you wag a finger at him, “you just got here and you’re already talking shit to me?”

“I thought that’s what friends are for?” He shows off his laughter lines before taking a seat on one of the the bar stools, while you glanced at the flute and expensive champagne bottle before choosing the bottle it’s self, “…I would ask how’ve you been but I don’t know what kind of answer I’m going to get.”

Shrugging your shoulders you take a swing from the bottle and go into a two step as, “Holly Jolly Christmas,” beings to play making Buck shake his head at you playfully, “just jolly can’t you tell? I mean we haven’t spoken in months since I left LA—

“Right,” Buck agreed, “I wanted to give you some space and I thought I was being a good friend giving you that, although there were plenty of times where I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You snort, “don’t get mushy on me, Ev.”

Evan sighs, “and you ghosted me a few times.”

“Out of the respect of your relationship with Taylor—

“You didn’t even like Taylor or Abby?” Evan frowns, “and that was before we decided to give each other a try and with you debating about quitting after what happened at the parking garage.”

Long story short: you were at the 118 six months before Evan Buckley ends up walking through the doors. At the beginning you had everyone fooled with the way you gave him the cold shoulder in the beginning, as if your mothers weren’t the best of friends and you didn’t alternate summers between Rhode Island and Pennsylvania. You were forced to be friends but it’s not ever something you truly regretted. It’s like Toy Story, you had a friend in Buck and that was something you were thankful for. The both of you bonded over just being in the moment and while he was more impulsive than you, you found your footing just a bit earlier than he did.

You went to California as soon as you reached eighteen and fell in love with it that you didn’t ever want to come back. You didnt have dreams of being a firefighter but you were always passionate about having a positive impact on someone’s lives and fighting fires didn’t sound so bad. By the time you came back after visiting and being forced to go to the community college for half a semester, you withdrew and left without a word. It took a shared phone call from Buck and Maddie to get you to answer, with Maddie pleading with you just to call your parents whereas Buck encouraged you to keep going.

Shortly after, he was traveling around the world and sending you postcards too. Evan was always just your friend that you spent summers with then holidays and then birthdays to speaking on AIM if not every day then every other day. It was clear that the both of you were meant to be in each others lives…until you made the terrible decision to catch feelings. Out of all of the years that you’ve known this guy, you just had to feel a way—despite him fooling around on the job, which you tore into him more than bobby did. From random hook ups to potentially serious relationships—that you never agreed with, you just had to do it and you were stubborn and fought it for so long.

Having your face almost crushed by concrete would do it to you. You didn’t know if you were going to make it, that was your real taste of death—although you got hurt on the job before this was the one that really had you questioning everything. The team outside of the parking garage tried to keep Buck from getting to you but if there’s a will, there’s a way. You tried to blame it on the partially crushed skull once Buck brought it back up at not the best timing—after physical therapy but he was firm and stood on the words shared.

He broke up with Taylor, you told him to give it time and if he truly still felt the same months later, you’d give it a go. He respected that and once you were back to normal as you can be, it happened and it was short lived because you didn’t take the topic of marriage with him seriously. And it had nothing to do with what he thought.

Evan Buckley was always good enough, if not more.

“It was better getting used to the idea of not being in each others lives.” Was what you went with.

Evan pressed his arms onto the counter, “what do you mean?”

Sipping from the bottle again you state, “you must have felt the same way I felt when I got the news that you were struck. Like time is only temporary. We’ve known each other since we were what? Fourteen-fifteen? And sure that feels like forever but it really just means it starts over.”

Evan stares at you from underneath his eyelashes, “so…declining our friendship was the better answer for you?”

“Oh I’d think we’d always be friends…even if there’s distance.”

“That you created.” Evan points out, “I didn’t think you believed in alternate universes.”

You swallow, “I didn’t, until you told me what it was like in that coma.”

“Then you left…to be with Otis.” Evan fills in the blanks while wiggling his eyebrows which makes you scoff, “want to talk about it?”

You blink, “I just told my sister to mind her business…do you want me to deliver the same thing? Let’s catch up and focus on you…I’m surprised you’re not in PA.”

“I let Maddie and chim deal with that.” Evan says, “Christmas Eve was enough for me and poor Jee, I should have taken her with me.”

Resting your chin against the palm of your hand you say, “that bad huh?”

“Ah the usual. You know how parents can be,” Evan chats, “they’re really pushing to meet Natalia.”

Squinting you try to recall the name as Evan informs, “right…uh someone I met on the scene. She’s a death doula.”

“A what?”

“Someone who helps people who are facing death find peace with it. Like the good version of what a hospice is supposed to be.” Buck tells, coming to terms that there has been gaps in what they should know, yet this was what you wanted apparently.

Tapping against the glass you say, “and she’s your…girlfriend?”

“Well, yeah.” Buck smiles a bit while you hum, taking a swing from the bottle, “what was that response?”

You shrug, “just surprised your parents would want to meet her…does Maddie like her?”

“She doesn’t not not like her.” Evan frowned.

“How long have you been dating?”

“Not long…uh what’re you getting at?”

“Look, I don’t know her and I’m not going to further rain on anybody’s parade but just be careful. Take your time you know?”

Evan scratches at his birth mark above his brow and huffs, “thought you were a big believer in time not lasting forever and starting over…That’s what I’m doing.”

Nodding your head you say, “I’m not judging you.”

“Good because my plan wasn’t to argue with you here at your childhood home in the kitchen on Christmas.” Buck tells as he takes in the decor, “We can hash anything else out at a later date because it’s the most wonderful time of the year right? I’m here until the 31st by the way.”

“When exactly did you drop in?”

“The 21st.”

“Oh you’re staying for awhile.”

“I think I should.” He waved his hand for the bottle which he takes a swing at and lets out a deep burp, excusing himself with a grin after you scrunch up your nose.

Snatching the bottle back you leave it unattended as you peek through the trays of food, thinking about another round since the preview of desserts were lackluster.

“Huh,” Buck says now peering above his head, “when did that get up there?”

Turning you attention back to a old friend in the maroon sweater, you follow his gaze to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above his head. “Which one of your siblings pulled this one?”

“Don’t think that was their doing honestly,” you reputed, “feels very traditional and something my dad would do.”

Evan thinks about it and seems to agree, remembering how affectionate the man tended to be back then. “Well…it’s tradition and we shouldn’t break it.”

“Don’t know if you notice Ev, I thought the all black attire would be a giveaway but I simply do not care about this holiday.”

“I’ve noticed—

“And didn’t you just say you have a girlfriend? I can kiss anybody else and tend to very soon.” You almost went into a daydream state of the all the possible contenders you’d lock lips with in just a few days.

“True but who are you going to find that’s as gorgeous as me?” Buck challenged as he placed a hand on his chest.

“Did Eddie fly in with you guys?”

“That’s not funny.”

“So you cross the line at your work husband but not nat the death doula?” You quizzed the tousled haired man.

“Why are you giving her a whole title like that?”

“It’s Natalia’s profession…?”

“Yeah but nobody calls you: y/n the retired firefighter turned air traffic controller.”

“You don’t know that and you just did.”

Buck felt his eye twitch, “I was giving an example!”

“Hey, inside voices! The singing and music is loud enough. Not to mention the carolers that will be here by eight and will probably give me nightmares tonight—

Evan shakes his head, “no I don’t think you understand. We have to kiss or else it’s going to bring bad luck in our love lives for who knows how long and I could really use a consistent love and what better person to do that with than you.”

One thing about Buck, he was a thousand percent superstitious but that wouldn’t stop you from poking fun.

“Evan Matthias Buckley…are you flirting with me?” You tease as you caress the counter while slowly make your way around the island.

The man appears almost shy now as you grip his face, taking in the features you’ve come to known and appreciate. Evan was still him regardless of the miles you put in between each other. With his hands now on your waist you enjoyed the moment because face it, it was always nice to be held, so you stared into his eyes for a moment and then his tulip tinted lips.

Lips that you didn’t mind on yours or anywhere on your body once upon a time…until you self sabotaged. You could have married evan and would have in a heartbeat but you also felt marriage wasn’t for you. You didn’t want to fuck that up just like you did everything else.

And that wasn’t really true, that’s just the bad parts of your brain getting in the way but you were working it out in therapy. However a smile was on your lips now that you pressed your forehead to the man that’s seen all sides to you before and you could have sworn Evan was holding his breath, just wondering how this would work.

Yet he was the one insisting that they share a kiss!

Caressing the scruff that was along his jaw, you lightly pinched his face, holding him in place as you put a lingering kiss right beside the corner of his lips. The deflation was evident and you didn’t know whether to take that as relief or disappointment but Evan pulled you into a hug filled with warmth anyway.

Which you welcomed, arms locked around his broad shoulders before resting a hand on the back of his head. He squeezed you just right and if you wanted to be in your soft era tonight, you may have shed a tear but pushing that to the side felt better for now. It’s been awhile but you didn’t want to cross that line especially if things were serious with Natalia.

Evan didn’t know about Otis or how you were battling moving on from that but he’ll take what he can get from you. Whenever you were ready then he’d always be around and that’s something he wanted to remind you of but being here with you on this holiday—even if you were being a complete grinch about it! felt like he made the right decision.

“You know Ev Bev,” you started as you pulled back but kept your hands locked around his shoulders, “has anyone ever told you that you reek of spruce?

Evan blinks, “no one’s ever told me I smell like a tree before…but considering the job? I’m not offended.”

“Well I am. You’re supposed to boycott all things Christmas with me if you still consider yourself my bestie,” you shook your head in sorrow.

You’re ready to untangle yourself but Evan just tightens his arms around you, leaning forward to get a whiff of you, “and you smell like fruitcake.”

Faux gagging gets Evan to widen his eyes and loosen his grip, “don’t make me sick—

“I think that’s enough champagne for you.”

“You’re right, it has my toes buzzing but I can definitely go for something stronger which my parents don’t have but I’ll sneak out before the Carolers get here to get some.”

“Or…you can find the true beauty in Christmas that doesn’t have anything to do with alcohol.” Evan offered while you gave him a unimpressed stare, “maybe next year then?”

“Oh I plan to as soon as the new year hits and I get some answers.” You unravel yourself from him and move to take a seat on the other velvet stool.

Evan holds his hands out, “…care to elaborate?”

“Sure, why the hell not? After spending too much time here and becoming financially stable, I’ve finally decided to buy a house.” You give jazz hands.

“That’s fantastic news!” Evan perks up, “Wait…does anybody else know?”

“Nope, just you my friend.” You sigh, “I should know if they accepted my offer by the 29th the realtor says but can expect some delays based on the stupid holidays so…fingers crossed.”

Evan snickers, “then that’s something to celebrate and I’m sure your family will be happy for you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. My decisions are always based on selfishness apparently.” You fold your hands, “I know the first thing that’s going to be said and then comes the guilt tripping but I don’t want to be in this place anymore. I’ve been here a good portion of my life and had to come back because the world decided to go apocalyptic. I’m tired of feeling stuck and New Mexico can be the freedom I’ve always been searching for.”

Evan took in your words carefully. He knew you weren’t always this down but stepping away as a firefighter definitely triggered that and the old childhood insecurities resurfaced living here again although you tried to bury them. He’s been around the world while your family tried to keep you sheltered—even into your adulthood, you were always the one who wanted something different than them. Evan saw that the first day he met you and instantly took a liking to you, although it took more convincing on your end. New Mexico was far from Rhode Island but not too bad from Los Angeles.

“It will be and we’ll make the best of it.” Evan squeezed the tension from between your shoulder blades.

Looking at him you echo, “we?”

“Do you really think you can keep hiding from me? Now that you let me back in, you’re not getting rid of me again.” Evan grinned in excitement while you groaned, “We have a house to plan for, like when’s the expected move in date when you’re approved?”

You shrugged, “realtor man Danny didn’t tell me that exactly but if I had to guess, probably sometime in February.”

“That works,” Evan nods, “if it falls around Maddie’s birthday I might just suggest New Mexico.” He winks at you while you scoff.

“Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? Who’s to say I’d even give you my address?”

Despite saying this you knew Buck would always find a way and it’s not something you were truly against. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss seeing him around but ultimately that was your choice.

“Ouch, that’s no way to treat the guy that’s had your back since we were kids and is about to make you a mean peppermint mocha.” Evan says in a sing song tone as he drums on the table before sliding down from the chair.

Tilting your head at the thought you reply, “will it be spiked?”

Evan shakes his head as he makes his way over to the espresso machine, “I’m trying to save your liver so that’ll be a negative.”

“Boooo! Buck sucks more than Santa! Tomato, tomato.” You gave a thumbs down as Evan chuckles to himself.

Buck was attempting to bring you holiday cheer, you could feel yourself sort of exhaling as you watched him move around the kitchen. Whenever Evan was around, it usually felt like putting the negative on pause because you tended to forget about it for awhile thanks to his infectious spirit.

“Are you two playing nice?” The voice of your brother, Mark fills the room as he enters the kitchen once more and now holding the hand of his fiancée, Alani who teasingly scrunches her nose up with a smile at you two.

Throwing your head back, you sigh, “as nice as I can be, Marcus.”

“That’s not saying much,” he goes to elbow Buck jokingly, who nods with a shrug.

Alani takes the seat beside you, “so…what we really want to know is, did you guys share a kiss and decide to fall deeply in love with each other?”

“Lani!” Marcus warns while the curly haired woman lifts her shoulders.

You laugh, “and this is why I’ve always liked you Lanz, you’re never on any bullshit, unlike Mark and Ris.”

“Yikes, I’m not touching that one.” Alani reached for the champagne bottle.

“You may have actually made her cry by the way,” Marcus announces making Evan peer at you over his shoulder.

Turning your eyes into slits you question, “made who cry?”

“Larissa.”

You huff, “she pissed me off.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have to attack her motherhood which she has yet to really experience…” Marcus states and you take a breath.

You knew that comment was harsh but you never lacked a back bone. When anyone got on your nerves, you were going to tell them and didn’t care who they were or where you were. It’s a defense mechanism and yes that was something else you were working on.

“I’ll make up with her after I get into this spiked peppermint mocha.” You grinned in content.

Evan corrects, “how many times do I have to tell you, it’s not spiked?”

“Until you change your mind, sugar plum.”

“Yuck,” Marcus laughs while Alani smirks.

Sooner than later, Buck is handing out four cups of peppermint mocha and crouches over the counter beside you as you all take in the festive drink while, “Deck the halls,” starts to play for the sixth time this evening. Normally you would be considering sticking your head inside of the oven or making your severe allergic reaction act up by eating a gingerbread cookie just so you could get out of listening to this boring music but somehow you tune it out.

Physical touch was how Buck liked to be loved so you didn’t think much of it as you looped a hand around the crease of his arm. acts of service was how he gave love. He glanced over at you while you listened to whatever your brother was blabbing about and when you caught his stare, you thought to yourself, maybe reconnections should have been on your wishlist.

A tender peppermint kiss to your temple was enough to solidify that and this time? You fought the urge to playfully smack Evan’s scruffy jaw to get off you and allowed the affection from the man you knew for years.

You let the love soak in, as cheesy as it sounds but isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

Who really knows?

You’re more of a New Year’s Eve lover anyway…

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅ ❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩

Check back for my ~5 days of Xmas~ anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #queued #911 #911 abc #911 fox #Evan Buckley #evan buck buckely #Evan Buckley x reader #buck x reader #December prompts #Christmas prompts #Oliver stark #maddie buckley #howard chimney han #Eddie diaz #bobby nash

[batfamily-brain-rot]

Still Standing (Jason Todd x Reader)

Made this a year ago, I'm finally putting this onto tumblr cause I'm working on a fan comic and I may take elements of this for the comic but I'm not sure yet. Anyways if you guys want me to write more things like this or if you do want this to become a part or even a prequal to the fan comic (which already has a name that's currently secret) let me know.

(Inspired by @ohboi_ohboi on tiktok who asked for someone to write a fic on there idea. Reader hating on jason todd for being a spoiled wiseass, while jason todd laughs his ass of knowing the reader has Red hood merch I got a little bit of soft angst in there but don't worry I bring the humor back in. I also wrote this in an hour, I swear I blacked out and woke up to a 1000 word fic... I may write more for this later and may clean it up more but it is almost 2 am right now and I have a final to do tomorrow morning.)

(Reader Pov) 

It was slow that day at the cafe, the sun had begun to set as I began to shut down the cafe early. That's when this asshole came in, fifteen minutes before closing… Again.

“Hey, would you look at that, my favorite barista is working tonight!” Jason smirked as he made his way to sit on ‘his’ stool by the front counter.

“I just wiped that counter down, asshole.” I rolled my eyes, “Let me guess, your usual?”

He faked a gasp, “Do you talk to all your loyal customers like this?” he laughed at his own joke as he pulled out the same beat up copy of classic romance anthology, “and yeah my usual.” 

I grabbed the cup I had already made previous to his arrival, “here.” 

“What, did you miss me so much that you had my order ready for me?” he slid over a fifty and winked, “Keep the change.” 

I scoffed and took the fifty, “Ha you wish dick weed, that was actually going to be mine. We just seem to have the same order.” I broke the fifty and put the amount he own into the cash register and pocketed my ‘tip’

“You know, for someone that hates me coming in you sure don’t mind the tips I leave.” he laughed before taking a sip of his coffee.

I raised a brow, “Listen here money bag, the only reason I tolerate you coming in this close to closing and staying so long after is because of your tips.” I rolled my eyes as I began to close out the register, “And for someone who always brings a book you never seem to get much reading done. Trying to sound out the words? Maybe you should have your daddy get you a tutor.” 

He closed the book and leaned his head on his hand, “I’ve read this anthology fourteen times already, I bring it as an excuse to why it takes me so long to finish my coffee.” 

“Don’t you have a library in that manor you live in? Can’t you read something else?” I brought the money into the back and put it in the safe before returning, “And what takes you so long to finish then?” 

“I enjoy the classics, it's comforting to read something you know the end to.” he takes another sip of his coffee and takes a moment to answer, “I like our talks.” 

“Well I don’t so can you hurry it up? I’m sure your butler needs to tuck you into bed or something.” I sat on the stool at the end of the counter, about three stools away from him.

“Ha now that's a good one I’ll have to write that down.” he rolled his eyes and shifted in his chair to face me, “What is it that drives you so insane about me? It can’t just be my good looks, is it my winning smile and bad boy facade?” 

“Ah so you admit it's a facade?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, “It pisses me off you go around flaunting your money while everyone else in the city has to try and stay afloat with multiple jobs and dodging the idiots who cause chaos for everyone.” 

I hung up my apron and grabbed my Red Hood jacket from the coat rack. When I turned my attention back to him he had a shiteating grin on his dumb face.

“Oh what now dipshit?” I sat back down and waited for whatever shit he was about to spew from that pretty mouth of his. 

“Oh it's nothing… Just find it interesting you’re a fan of red hood… that's all.” he took another sip to stifle his laugh. 

“And so what if I am? He’s the only one that actually realizes some people are better off dead.” I groaned and crossed my arms, “Let me guess your one of those batman cultists who think that everyone deserves a chance to change even when they’ve blown through hundreds of chances to change.” 

His face scrunched up as he tried not to laugh, “Oh god no. I wouldn’t say I’m a fan of Red Hood but trust me… I fully support and believe in his ways.” 

I squinted trying to figure out what was so funny about all of this. I sighed and checked the time before looking back up to him, “It's officially ten minutes after closing can you hurry up?” 

He took a long slow sip before setting the coffee down and kicking his legs up on one of the stools between us. I sharply kicked the stools towards him causing him to tumble back, he tried to catch the counter but hissed in pain before hitting the floor. 

He loudly groaned as he sat up and rubbed his shoulder. 

“I am so sorry, usually you catch yourself. I didn't think you were actually going to fall.” I made my way over to him, “Are you alright?”

A loud pop came from his shoulder as he pressed on it, “it's fine, just a shoulder injury.” he laughed as I helped him up, “rough housing with my brother went a little too far and we went down a flight of stairs.” 

“How are you walking around jesus christ are you a tank?” I stared at him, I felt my face scrunch up in confusion.

He chuckled, “I have been working out thank you for noticing.” he rolled his eyes, “You know, paid a personal trainer with my dads money.” 

“Ugh I hate you so much.” I crossed my arms and fixed the stools, “I should kick you back onto the floor.” 

“And yet I’m still standing.” We sat next together in silence for a moment as he drank his coffee. 

“I was practically homeless as a kid.” his words were unsure as he stared distantly ahead of him, “Had to steal to make sure my mom and I could eat… I tried to steal the rims off of Bruce’s car and he decided to adopt me instead of pressing any charges.” he laughed a bit, “Like who does that?” 

My eyes widened as I stared at him, “I had no idea.” 

“Why would you?” He finished off his coffee and looked at me, “I give large tips and flaunt what money I have because I remember what it's like to be poor. I don’t know if the money will last, if Bruce gets tired of the issues I bring, it can get taken away… just poof gone… I can help people now, I can have a little fun now too, why not do it now just in case you know?” 

I placed a hand on his shoulder, “well that explains a lot… you have daddy issues.” 

#jason todd #batfamily #batfam #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #redhood x reader #jason todd x reader

[enihk-writes]

[at the end of a burnt wick]

pairing: tang bo x afab!she/her!reader

NOT exactly an x reader because i didn't want tang bo and reader's relationship to be romantic, tried to make them platonic / co-workers like ah-duo and the emperor from the apothecary diaries + implied tangchung because all roads lead to old men yaoi

summary: anthology of a married pair

content warning: archaic wedding practices mentioned (i.e. having to consummate a marriage against the will of both parties) // stillbirth and child loss (disconnect with traditional expectations of parenthood)

word count: 6.66k

author's note: my roman empire lately is about how i used to audition to nijisanji and only niji at least 3-4 times (didn't even pass the first stage lol) before i got really fixated with rotbb.... maybe one day i will try my hand at vtubing and streaming again... for now it's fanfiction time ragggghhh!!!!! fictional men 4ever!!!!

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

═══════════════

FIRST MEETING

the first time the young tang bo met her, was when he was a little over fifteen.

she was also just as young as he — a wee lass that had yet to lose the childlike roundness of her cheeks, round eyes that seemed to sparkle in wonderment at all the grandeur around her. tang bo didn't understand what was so special about the surroundings, he'd grown up here all his life and had already seen most of anything money could buy. this girl was weird.

he didn't find out until much later that this was the first time she had ever left the four walls of her room, much less her own home.

he thinks that it was no wonder she had looked so amazed with everything she saw back then. he can't imagine a life where he had to live constrained to one place, going through the same routine everyday would have bored him to death.

he wasn't looking forward to future conversations with that girl — he was certain she would be utterly dull and boring.

═══════════════

ENGAGEMENT

tang bo was furious that the elders had went and signed off the engagement contract without even asking for his approval. he had been meeting with countless hopefuls for a few years by now, and he'd been able to fend them all off by acting in ways that had all these well-bred ladies huffing and puffing in indignation. crying to their fathers that they would rather die than marry a man like he.

so who was it that agreed to this!

tang bo mutters under his breath, teeth gritted, fists clenched. he had to see with his own two eyes the woman who was stupid or desperate enough to let herself be wed to the likes of him.

elder!

the young man throws open the doors to the main hall, not caring one bit about the guests sitting inside. the elders and the patriarch in question frowned at his behaviour, biting their tongues from chastising him in front of strangers.

his gaze lands on a familiar face, a little older and a lot less naive, but familiar nonetheless. he didn't know that a person's demeanour could change so drastically in a few years.

tang bo's hands fall to his sides, he shuffles towards the end of the table, plopping down on the empty spot across his soon-to-be betrothed. he eyes her figure, chewing on the inside of his mouth, trying to come up with something to insult her with.

tang bo—

the patriarch didn't even get the chance to finish his sentence when the young man scoffs at the girl's face, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a sneer.

really? her?

tang bo glances over at the heads of his family, finger pointing rudely in the girl's face. they all sigh, knowing what was about to come from the impudent boy. they could only hope this girl wouldn't take his jabs to heart.

hey you.

he juts his chin at her.

all my other candidates looked prettier than you. hey, did you even bother to put in any effort when coming to meet me?

she ignored him, sipping on her tea serenely. the girl's guardians shift in their seats nervously. ah, this young master has yet to face their mistress' infamous anger.

tang bo clicks his tongue.

oi, did you even — hey!

he didn't expect her to splash the remainder of her drink onto him. the warm liquid splatters across his face and drips down his now damp hair, even the front of his robes were now soiled from the tea.

he looks over to the elders of his family in surprise, hoping that they'd stand up for him but none met his eye. he felt betrayed when he catches some of them trying to hide the twitch of their mouths suppressing their laughs.

they all thought that it was about time someone put this boy in his place, talented and intelligent as he may be.

needless to say, the rest of the meeting went on smoothly. and it ended with the confirmation of the two's engagement. much to tang bo's despair and the girl's indifference.

═══════════════

FIRST 'DATE'

he really tried his best to drag his feet that day. the elders had arranged for an evening dinner in the newly established inn downtown with his bride-to-be and tang bo really did not want to go. he was kicking up a fuss with his clothes, this one was too dull, that one is too bright, it's too rough, it's too short... and so on. but when he finally ran out of excuses and the attendants tiredly managed to dress him appropriately — the sun was beginning to set.

tang bo perks up. perhaps he didn't have to go out with her after all!

he steps out of his room, surprised to see that there was no one in the courtyard. he shouldn't have felt a jolt of worry then, but he did, and he wondered if something was wrong.

where is she?

he asks to no one in particular, heading to her room three doors down from his, footfalls heavy on the lacquered wooden planks of the corridor. he hears panicked voices muffled behind the doors and throws the doors to her room open.

she sat in the middle of the room in nothing but her undergarments, surrounded by the tang estate's maids and piles of unworn clothes. she had her back facing him, and all he could see were the maids hurriedly hiding away the containers of makeup all shying away from his scrutinising gaze.

out.

the maids didn't have to be told twice. they all scurried out of her room like mice, tails between their legs and faces pursed in anxiety at being caught in the middle of something they probably shouldn't be doing. tang bo sighed heavily. to think the woman he was to marry was getting bullied, by mere maids too? he felt ashamed on her behalf. he didn't like people who were fine with others taking advantage and stepping all over them. he hated that they didn't have a backbone to stand up for themselves.

kicking off his shoes, he entered her room — nose scrunched up instinctively at the suffocating dust in the air. he looked around to see all the windows shut tightly, there were no gaps for even a sliver of light to shine inside.

how has this girl been living so far, for her to be fine with this treatment?

tang bo coughed, stumbling over to open the windows, lightheaded from the lack of breathable air. he waves his hands to chase the dust outside, coughing even harder when the little particles get all up in his face.

he hears her giggle. much to his growing annoyance, what was so funny anyway.

he sits in front of her, letting the pile of unworn clothes cushion him from the hard floor. under the orange glow of the setting sun, he sees her for the first time today, all dolled up in the most garish makeup that would have certainly humiliated her, and had he not barged in she would have had to go around in public like that.

you look uglier today.

she chuckled and hummed in response, she looks around in search of something. grabbing a rag from under the clothes, she proceeded to wipe off her painted face, only to have tang bo take it out of her hands with a soft, let me.

he holds her chin between his fingers, rubbing off the white powder that contrasted starkly against her skin, making her look sickly. he rubs off the crudely drawn-out eyebrows and the thick rouge that sat on her lips. he can't help but notice the way her lashes fluttered as she tried to keep her eyes closed. maybe his fiancee was a little cute.

with her face now bare, the girl lets out the breath she had been holding. but tang bo wasn't done yet.

where are you facing. turn back here.

he ordered pointedly, and she couldn't help but to go back into her prior position. lips and eyes squeezed shut, much like a puppy getting told off for misbehaving.

picking up a brush out of the many lying haphazardly over the vanity, tang bo dipped it's tip into the little porcelain jar left ajar. it was lipstick in a shade deep red, the type that would have looked lovely especially on her.

he holds the girl's now bare face in one hand, the brush in the other, outlining the shape of her lips with the new rouge. the feathery touch of the brush tip was ticklish, moreso with how tang bo had been holding it in an uncharacteristically gentle way as though he were a potter painting intricate patterns on a cup before he sent it off to the burning fires in a kiln.

he pinched the brush, smudging the tint against his fingers and drawing faint circles at the outer corner of her eyes.

tang bo leans back to admire his handiwork. he couldn't help but feel proud of the results. not only was he good at martial arts and medicine, he had an amazing eye for aesthetics too? where would anyone find a better husband then he?

the girl opens her eyes cautiously, her gaze meeting his. he looked pleased, boastful even.

hmph. you look more presentable now.

he hands her a mirror, and as she looks at her reflection against the shiny bronze surface, she had to agree. her fiance had done a good job with her face. maybe he wasn't all that awful.

thank you, young master tang.

the girl smiled, her eyes crinkling upwards in a smile. tang bo scoffs and looks out the window, hiding his embarrassment at her sincere words. thinking back now, this was the first he'd heard her speak, wasn't it? maybe he should pay more attention once in a while.

heh. of course you should be thanking me.

the sky and grown dark. lucky him, he didn't have to go out to that dinner with her after all.

═══════════════

THE FIRST REAL DATE

tang bo felt a little irked that she had been walking behind him even when he had slowed down to match her pace. it's almost like she had been deliberately hanging back.

you.

he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards him. she stumbled over her feet and falls over with a startled squeak.

you're my fiancee. so stand proud and walk beside me.

he declares with a hand on his hip, the grip on her wrist with his other not once loosening. he walks again, just as slow as he had been earlier, feeling a little happy that the girl no longer lagged behind.

he'd started to warm up to her, no longer seeing her as the stranger living in his house, one day to become his wife. she was more akin to a little sister he'd have to babysit.

no, actually she was more like an apprehensive kitten left on his doorstep that he'd grown to like taking care of.

buying her sweets and spoiling her with accessories she might not even have a chance to wear just because he thought she'd look cute in them has been one of his favourite hobbies these days.

why was he so anxious about getting engaged before? ever since she became his fiancee, he didn't have to go out and meet with any more annoying noble ladies clamouring over each other trying to win over his affection. the best part was that she kept to herself, and minded her own business unless it was time to visit the elders and the patriarch for afternoon tea — which he didn't mind since having her as his own personal walking event reminder has really saved him from getting scolded even more by the old farts.

ah! look! they're selling meat skewers over there! come on, let's go get some! i'm sure you'd like those too.

tang bo giggles and drags the girl over to another street vendor. ah, lucky him. he's hit the jackpot with the whole engagement game — a tolerable and cute wife-to-be, could a boy ask for anything more? guanyin-ma really was looking over him after all.

═══════════════

FORTUNE TELLER

after two seasons of living under the same roof, the heads of the tang clan decide that it was time for the two to meet with the fortune teller. set up an auspicious date through the tung shing, and be wed on the right phase of the moon and the best placement of the stars in the sky.

the young master is lucky to have found someone this compatible. it is hard for children born in his year to find a suitable partner. they say snakes rarely get along with the other zodiacs.

says the old eccentric woman who proclaimed herself to be the best fortune teller in sichuan and the one who had been checking the birthdates of all the potential brides that had been introduced to tang bo thus far. the boy felt the urge to get up and fight that hack, respecting his elders be damned, so she was the one sending him all those insufferable girls his way.

he feels a hand grab at his arm. fingers digging into his flesh enough to keep him seated. he looks over at the girl sitting next to him, expression unchanging, her body angled to lean a little closer to his.

his hand reached over discreetly to peel her fingers off him, bringing her hand down to hold his under the table, fingers intertwined. she seemed to relax a little, tense shoulders falling ever gently, her jaw growing slightly more slack.

to the untrained eye, the girl's expressions were the same. but to him, he's watched her long enough, even if it wasn't every day, to spot the subtle changes whenever she expressed herself. tang bo pats himself on the back for being such an attentive fiance.

his attention shifted from the conversation between the fortune teller and the elders to the girl's hand. they were soft and smooth, as expected of a lady of noble birth. his on the other hand were calloused from training, the tips of his fingers were starting to turn darker from the constant exposure to poisons. shit, he might have to start wearing gloves.

the girl hadn't been paying attention to the conversation going on either, spacing out until the elders called on the two. stifling their startled gasp, the two youngins stared at their elders, a confused expression painted on their faces, not one bit guilty for ignoring everything that was being said.

ah, it's good they are getting along well.

the fortune teller chuckled with a knowing glint in her eye trying to suggest something, but both tang bo and the girl didn't seem to catch her drift, the old woman's point flying over their heads.

the elders soon turn back to their discussion, talking about the best days that would suit the two.

look here, since they are both born as snakes, their auspicious numbers are two, eight and nine. i'd suggest we hold the wedding...

tang bo nudges at the girl.

hey.

she looks up at him. he leaned down next to her ear, wanting to ask her about her birthday, too embarrassed to ask about it outright in front of the elders. he didn't want to seem like an incompetent fiance to his future bride.

she hides a growing grin. it was nice of him to start paying attention to her. little steps, little steps. she wriggles her hand out of his grasp and writes down the date with her finger on the surface of his palm.

good thing their hands were under the table, or people would know about the cause of the redness dusting the back of his ears.

the meeting dragged on until late in the evening. it ended with the agreement that they were to be wed on the eighth day of the eighth month on the eighth year of the emperor's reign.

truly the most auspicious day for a union.

═══════════════

A BRIDE-TO-BE'S DRESSING ROOM

the long-awaited day came by later than expected. the previous emperor passed before he even got close to the eighth year of his reign. not wanting to change the numbers of the date, the elders decided to push the event back until the current emperor had reached his eighth year.

by then, the two had grown into a man and a woman, a lot older than the common age to be wed. but it was no matter. who would dare speak up against the tang clan's young master and his wife-to-be?

the day, hell, even the night before had been hectic. tang bo slipped past his attendants to take a peak at what was going on in her room. traditions be damned, who cares about the groom not seeing his bride until they were at the altar? that was so outdated!

what are you doing here?

she had been left alone to rest from the non-stop preparations since before dawn. tang bo walks in, careful not to make too much noise as he slides the door shut behind him.

why? can't i visit my wife?

i am not your wife.

yet~

his teasing voice moved behind her. he picked up the brush to comb out the knots that were all tangled up — the maids had put on extensions to lengthen her hair. she hadn't been able to grow them to the expected length, much to the annoyance of the maids. they hadn't been nice when attaching the accessories, she could still feel the burning sensation on her scalp.

there was no need to kick up a fuss at this point. especially in front of tang bo. this guy would have kicked out all the attendants who had been treating her poorly, but that felt like too easy of a punishment. she wanted to deal with them herself when the time comes, sorry for that, young master tang.

the leather gloves he wore were cold, and the feeling of his fingertips scratching against her scalp was soothing, enough to draw out a quiet purr from the woman. much to her shocked embarassment.

oh?

she leans away from him.

...please ignore that.

but how could he?

my wife... how can you be so cute~!

i need you to shut up right now.

═══════════════

WORLD'S MOST BORING CEREMONY

if it was any consolation, the two had agreed that this whole affair was a pain in their ass.

wife, do you know when this will end?

what makes you think i have the answer to that?

tang bo thinks his bride was lucky to have that red veil over her face. if she wanted to shut her eyes and sleep, none of the guests nor elders would be any wiser. poor old him. they should have made a veil for the goom too, which smartass decided otherwise anyway? if he ever met that person, tang bo promised he would pummel the other to the ground.

wife.

she hums in acknowledgement, bowing her head at a guest who had come up to the front to pay their blessings to the pair.

wife.

tang bo called out again, his tone getting a little impatient. wincing when he felt her pinch the skin between his thumb and index finger. he tried to smile at the strangers passing them by, feeling drained and completely spent from the day's activities. it didn't help that the noisy chatter of everyone around them was making him feel worse.

wife, you should tell the elders that you're tired and want to rest for the night... i'm sure they'd listen to you.

why me? you go!

huh? me? nuh-uh, you go!

the back and forth lasted for a bit until they both agreed to ask the elders together. after all, having a partner-in-crime to take the fall together with you was way better than facing backlash alone.

perhaps the atmosphere of a wedding had put the elders in a carefree mood, perhaps it was the result of a dozen empty wine bottles. they think it might be both, but no matter, they received permission to get out of there.

the best news either had ever heard today.

scurring away quickly, the newlyweds giggle amongst each other like kids up to no good even as they were well into their twenties. the guests and elders cooed in amusement, talking about how nice it must be to be young and in love.

though that second part was so far from the truth, when the two talk about it again in their later years, it had grown into a funny story they liked to reminisce about over a midnight drink.

═══════════════

THE FIRST NIGHT

tang bo glanced over at his wife, carrying the same grimace as she did. it was hard not to cringe at the overtly crude decorations in their now shared room.

right. that was how it was in these parts. they were now husband and wife so the elders are probably expecting the results of the two carrying out their marital duties within the next year.

i don't want to do that...

me neither...

now sitting across each other on the floor, they discuss how to trick the maids who would certainly check the bedding the next morning. if nothing happened tonight then they would be under more scrutiny. but who's to say that there won't be any surveillance after? ugh! this was all so annoying!

tang bo watched as the woman before him let out a big sigh, dropping her head into her hands. he felt sorry for his wife, it must be hard living as the new daughter-in-law of his family.

should we get this done and over with?

he suggested finally, after exhausting all their options. his wife makes a face at that, but she can't argue.

awkwardly he hands over a vial, an all-purpose antidote of sorts, in case she gets accidentally poisoned while coming into contact with him. the head had passed it to him sometime during the ceremony earlier, tang bo had been hoping he didn't have to use it, at least he held himself back from throwing the whole vial at the wall when it was given.

he didn't say it at first, but he could hear the eyes and ears surrounding them grow careless every few moments, revealing their presence by accident with an unintentional movement or sound. how uncouth of them to be watching the two newlyweds like this. it seemed she'd also noticed their presence, with how she'd glance out the windows whenever a small rustle was heard.

i'm so sorry.

he murmured an apology as he kissed her cheek — he didn't have to look to know she had a faint look of disdain, directed to no one in particular yet still stung through his heart.

it's not your fault.

so she says. but it might as well be. to him at least.

the consummation wasn't a pleasant process. neither could look at the other in the eye. the knowledge that people were standing outside the room to listen in on the completion of their marriage made this whole ordeal so much worse.

wife...i...

tang bo feels his hips stutter, his face burns in shame as his hoarse voice tries to speak.

her hands reach out to brush his hair out of his face, fingertips lightly smooth out the crease of his furrowed brows. she'd resigned herself long ago, knowing this whole process was inevitable from the time she reached adolescence. to think her own husband did not...

she felt a slight twinge of pity. the young master tang was a lot more sheltered than she had thought.

when it was all over, they scrambled to get away from the other, each sitting at the furthest end of the bed — letting what had conspired sink in. how many more times would this have to happen in the future?

she was the first to collect herself. getting up, she shuffles over to tang bo, her hand reaching out for his.

my husband, we should go and clean up.

he nodded, taking her hand in his wordlessly as she led him to the tub hidden behind the partition. after dipping the dry towels in the now warm water to wipe their bodies clean, slipping into clean nightgowns and peeling off the soiled bedspreads to throw them aside, they finally crawl under the covers, yawning tiredly.

sleep came over easily, surprisingly enough.

═══════════════

DIAGNOSIS

the questions that hung around in the air at this time of the year were all about babies, children, the next generation. everyone wanted to know which of the wedded members would be expecting soon.

most eyes were turned on tang bo and his wife.

unfortunately.

their marriage had happened over five years ago, almost ten, and all this time their other relatives who had gotten married later than they were popping out one offspring after another — yet none were to be seen for the young lord and his lady. the elders often lamented on the silence of their side of the estate.

rumour has it that their relationship was on the rocks, with how neither shared a room nor did they spend a night together like all the tang spouses — save for the occasional times they'd go to visit the other's quarters every two to three months. to scratch an itch as one might say. after all, they were still young and quite healthy, so such urges were still common occurrences. might as well do it with someone familiar rather than do that with a stranger.

the relationship between tang bo and his wife was actually far more amicable than anyone could have guessed. it was hard to describe the solace they'd found in each other's unspoken commanderie within the household. they'd been living together long enough to know virtually everything about each other, yet there was always a line drawn between them to keep the distance.

today, she wasn't here for any of their usual arrangements. tang bo had came back to find his wife nursing a cup of tea in one hand, resting it on top of a propped-up leg. she had set out a game of weiqi on the table, next to a steaming teapot and array of snacks.

looks like someone's got news.

his teasing voice called out to the woman, settling down on the seat across her. he hums in thought, contemplating his move as she places down her white bead on the board.

your uncle came over to see why we weren't having kids yesterday. he's given me the results this morning, right after you left.

the woman holds out the folded paper, a little crumpled from being kept between the layers of her robes. tang bo takes it, opening it to read what his so-called uncle had diagnosed his wife with. talk about elder butting into a youngster's business for no good reason.

this...

he says that i'm barren.

she looks down with a small smile,and it looked a little bitter. of course, how could she not be? after all that had happened those few years back?

to say that she's unable to carry a child after all she had gone through back then was such a cruel prank from the heavens. he knows his wife wanted to be a mother more than anything, to give that little baby all her love in the world or along those sentiments — as did he. so if that's not going to happen... then, what now?

they were silent as they moved their beads across the game board. contemplating their next moves and what to say to the other.

there's crab stick snacks here, you should try some.

as always, she breaks the silence first. grabbing a few sticks of the salty treat to nibble on before handing the container over to her husband. tang bo reached for the food mindlessly, thinking about how nice it'd be to have these with some sweet wine.

ah, but his wife wasn't much of a drinker so that's a bummer.

═══════════════

ONLY CHILD

he should have heard the cries of the baby.

it was quiet inside, and out where he was waiting too. the nurses and maids walked out of the room with buckets of soiled, bloody rags with their heads down and mouths drawn into a thin line — something was wrong, something had gone terribly wrong.

tang bo felt his feet move, walking towards the bedroom where the doors were still shut tightly. he weaved past the attendants trying to hold him back, all telling their young master to go back and wait.

wait? why did he have to wait when he didn't know what was happening to his wife right then? she needed him. and she needed him right now.

the midwife slides the door open just as he was about to open it himself. they both take a step back in surprise.

young master... the lady is alive and well. she is waiting inside.

the older woman bowed and scurried away from the scene to join the others in the courtyard outside.

his wife lay on her back on top of fresh bedsheets and a clean nightgown. she had a sickly pallor, lips were chapped dry with red marks of blood from where the skin ripped open. hair that was riddled with sweat stuck onto the sides of her face, the untied tresses splayed over the top of the bed. her eyes were unfocused and blank, staring straight up at the wall, mind elsewhere. her cheeks were still stained with the remnants of her tears, the evidence of what transpired within these four walls.

wife...

tang bo called out cautiously. she didn't respond, barely even moved an inch to acknowledge his presence.

next to her on the bed was a small swaddle, the stillness of what was supposed to be alive unnerved him. the child's dull skin, probably in some shade of grey, eyes that were never to open, oh.

he sits by her bedside, back facing her. he too, did not know what to say to her at that moment. he was the last person that could have possibly comforted her. well, it was his child too but they were both not lovers so this was an offspring born out of necessity rather than a genuine want. and at this point in his life, tang bo wasn't actually too thrilled about the prospect of fatherhood. not that he would resent that kid, it's just he might not have loved them like he should.

his wife, she's mentioned her anticipation of motherhood but once in a while, he'd catch glimpses of the unreadable expression she had when no one was looking — all while she rubs her growing belly. it made him think that perhaps she wasn't always telling the truth.

once there was a patient who had came to the tang estate to treat the growing tumors in his intestines and since he was a rather important guest, most of the members of the main family, the two of them included, had dropped by to greet him and wish him well for recovery. tang bo could never forget the intensity of her absent gaze at the patient's stomach, her balled fist tightening over her shawl ever so slightly.

perhaps it's good that she's dead.

tang bo feels his eyebrows rise up in shock.

you're not too keen on fathering a child either, are you?

he shakes his head.

well, that makes the two of us. the heavens must be looking out for her, keeping her away from parents like us who can't give her the love she needs.

his wife sighed deeply. her tired face falling to the side to look at him, a lopsided smile making its way onto her lips as if to ease the heavy tension of her words away. she might be right. perhaps, it was better this way. tang bo closes her eyes with his palm, patting her to sleep the way one would with a feverish child.

their daughter would later be the two's first and only child.

═══════════════

SWORDSMAN

the woman wondered how one-sided her husband's relationship with his friend was. the man was a rather expressionless fellow — his sentences were short, curt and straight to the point. her husband didn't seem to mind, with now he was almost always all over that man. ah well, she's just happy tang bo has an actual friend.

rather than worry that he was drunk off his rocker out on the streets past midnight doing who-knows-what in who-knows-where, at least now he's causing trouble with someone she could easily track. apperently, the man was a troublemaker in his own home too.

the first time she met the older sect brother of her husband's friend, they shared a look of silent understanding. ah, so you too have an oversized child to deal with.

watching tang bo come home staggering on his feet together with the man, leaning on the other for support used to riddle her with worry but now she just ushers them both into a spare room prepped with the necessary herbs to concoct a hangover remedy and hope for the best. her husband was a capable man, he would never let himself falter and die in a ditch.

in hindsight, she might have been too confident in his abilities.

the swordsman was the best thing to have happened to her husband. and it was not an exaggeration by any means. not when he looked at his happiest for the first time since she'd known him. even if they were both past their fifties and sixties.

how nice. she thinks to herself whenever she spots them together. to find your other half, your kindred spirit in this word before you died... it must be nice.

she can't find it in her to be bitter. really.

═══════════════

FIRST CHIPPING

if he were to look at what society deemed as a bastard husband, then that requisite would have had his face plastered as a prime example. the type of husband that any aspiring groom should not ever become.

though for those who were in the know, mainly his wife and himself, there was more to their marriage than what everyone saw. it didn't take long for either of them to recognise that this union had been a discreet way for them to hide away from what kids like them were supposed to act like in this rigid society.

they've stuck by each other as the only people who would have understood each other the best. so now that tang bo was finally finding the happiness he should have sought after all this time, he was always feeling the guilt of leaving her behind on her own in that house that had always been too big for just the two of them.

she has yet to utter a word of displeasure to him. that's how she was — the quiet one who kept to herself, letting things happen until the worst had passed over. it was one of the little things he detested about his wife.

he can't bring himself to really hate her. there was a time when he had opened up his heart and confided in her about some things he's been scared to come to terms with. the type of realisation one has from a very early age and has buried deep within themselves to fit into society and the expectations people had of him.

his wife had held onto his hand wordlessly, squeezing it ever so often to assure his nerves. he's never been this vulnerable before. he never thought things like this could be so frightening.

she had something to say too. but not right now. this was his moment, she's not so tactless to take it away. she can't stop thinking that if they'd been more honest earlier, then perhaps they wouldn't have hurt the other unknowingly all these years.

the walls they'd built between them were starting to come down a little — who would have thought they'd find out something new after decades of marriage.

═══════════════

COMING TO TERMS

she couldn't really understand why her husband was loudly crying into her shoulder. her good robes were getting wet from his tears and snot. how did this almost seventy-year-old man have no shred of shame — in front of the attendants no less?

she had given him her blessings earlier today, and he was now free to pursue the swordsman so why was he not going off to sweep his beloved off his feet and ride off into the sunset or whatever those romance novels say?

wife, you know you aren't obligated to be bound to me any more right? if you wish, you are also free to love someone else...

tang bo managed to say between sobs.

...thank you for your consideration.

she hesitated. what did he mean by her being free to love someone else? she can't think of a time when she'd ever felt that kind of emotion, at least not the one that every person around her was chasing after, even back when she was in her youth.

there was always a disconnect whenever the other wives she'd corresponded with ranted and raved about their husband's infidelities or little annoyances. they were always on the verge of hysteria, driven to that point out of love for their husbands they said. and she'd think about how foolish it was.

thank goodness her relationship with tang bo had not been built on a foundation that flimsy. rather, it was one based on mutual respect. which was far better—

ah but. he must have felt trapped in this marriage. not everyone in the world was like her. not everyone had been born with the inability to be like everyone else and it was unfair how they all just instinctively know what romance and lovers-love is. so to have held him back in this loveless situation for this long was a cruel thing.

the good wife, the understanding wife, the kindhearted wife. it's all that she's been the majority of her life. she doesn't know what else there was to her now that she's let-go of these titles. she's free to do what she wants. but what does a caged bird set free know?

she had packed lightly, the clothes on her back were lighter and less showy, the stark opposite of what she used to wear as the daughter-in-law of the tang family. there was not much hesitation as she donned the weimao — it's white veil falling past her knees. she looked at the darkened courtyard of their estate.

she's received enough goodwill in this lifetime. she prayed at the ancestral shrine one last time, asking them to look after everyone now that she's going off.

═══════════════

MORNING AFTER

tang bo awoke to the frantic bustle of the maids outside his room. turns out his wife had gone missing overnight without anyone noticing. he walked out of his room, wandering around the family estate until he reached the main halls where it was quieter. no one was allowed in here outside of events except for the elders and the main family.

he picks up the tattered note that had fluttered to his feet — eyes widening as he takes in the words written on it.

tch, that woman could still pull some tricks at her old age huh. he didn't think she'd still know how to surprise him. the paper was burned away on a candle flame. he wonders if he'd see his wandering wife on his travels with his taoist-hyung. would they all share a drink at the teahouse when they do? oh he hoped so. there's not much things to look forward to at this age, so at least give him some stories and a meal.

ah. he should let his taoist-hyung know about this too. before it slipped out of that old head of his.

#enihkwrites #rotbb #rotmhs #return of the mount hua sect #return of mount hua #return of the blossoming blade #dang bo #tang bo #return of the blossoming blade x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #dang bo x reader #tang bo x reader #gonna be real with you idk why i even wrote this #idk how i even had the idea to write this #it's more like a “tb was definitely married so how would that rls go with him and his potential wife” #*shakes the fic* pspspspspsps come get your fix loves

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more …

1854 – Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud (d.1891) was a French poet. Born in Charleville, Ardennes, he produced his best known works while still in his late teens—Victor Hugo described him at the time as "an infant Shakespeare"—and he gave up creative writing altogether before the age of 21. As part of the decadent movement, Rimbaud influenced modern literature, music and art. He was known to have been a libertine and a restless soul, travelling extensively on three continents before his death from cancer just after his 37th birthday.

At the age of fifteen, Rimbaud was showing maturity as a poet; the first poem he showed his tutor, Georges Izambard, "Ophélie", would later be included in anthologies as one of Rimbaud's three or four best poems. When the Franco-Prussian War broke out, Izambard left Charleville and Rimbaud became despondent. He ran away to Paris with no money for his ticket and was subsequently arrested and imprisoned for a week. After returning home, Rimbaud ran away again to escape his mother's wrath.

From late October 1870, Rimbaud's behaviour became outwardly provocative; he drank alcohol, spoke rudely, composed scatological poems, stole books from local shops, and abandoned his hitherto characteristically neat appearance by allowing his hair to grow long. At the same time he wrote to Izambard about his method for attaining poetical vision through a "long, intimidating, immense and rational derangement of all the senses. The sufferings are enormous, but one must be strong, be born a poet, and I have recognized myself as a poet." It is rumoured that he briefly joined the Paris Commune of 1871, which he portrayed in his poem L'orgie parisienne (ou : Paris se repeuple), ("The Parisian Orgy; or Paris Repopulates"). Another poem, Le cœur volé ("The Stolen Heart"), is often interpreted as a description of him being raped by drunken Communard soldiers, but this is unlikely since Rimbaud continued to support the Communards and wrote poems sympathetic to their aims.

Rimbaud was encouraged by a friend to write to Paul Verlaine, an eminent poet, after letters to other poets failed to garner replies. Taking his advice, Rimbaud sent Verlaine two letters containing several of his poems. Verlaine, who was intrigued by Rimbaud, sent a reply that stated, "Come, dear great soul. We await you; we desire you," along with a one-way ticket to Paris. Rimbaud arrived in late September 1871 at Verlaine's invitation and resided briefly in Verlaine's home.

Rimbaud and Verlaine began a short and torrid affair. Whereas Verlaine had likely engaged in prior homosexual experiences, it remains uncertain whether the relationship with Verlaine was Rimbaud's first. During their time together they led a wild, vagabond-like life spiced by absinthe and hashish. They scandalized the Parisian literary circle on account of the outrageous behaviour of Rimbaud, the archetypical enfant terrible, who throughout this period continued to write strikingly visionary verse. The stormy relationship between Rimbaud and Verlaine eventually brought them to London in September 1872, a period about which Rimbaud would later express regret. During this time, Verlaine abandoned his wife and infant son (both of whom he had abused in his alcoholic rages). Rimbaud and Verlaine lived in considerable poverty, in Bloomsbury and in Camden Town, scraping a living mostly from teaching, in addition to an allowance from Verlaine's mother. Rimbaud spent his days in the Reading Room of the British Museum where "heating, lighting, pens and ink were free." The relationship between the two poets grew increasingly bitter.

By late June 1873, Verlaine grew frustrated with the relationship and returned to Paris, where he quickly began to mourn Rimbaud's absence. On 8 July, he telegraphed Rimbaud, instructing him to come to the Hotel Liège in Brussels; Rimbaud complied at once. The Brussels reunion went badly: they argued continuously and Verlaine took refuge in heavy drinking. On the morning of 10 July, Verlaine bought a revolver and ammunition.That afternoon, "in a drunken rage," Verlaine fired two shots at Rimbaud, one of them wounding the 18-year-old in the left wrist.

Rimbaud dismissed the wound as superficial, and did not initially seek to file charges against Verlaine. But shortly after the shooting, Verlaine (and his mother) accompanied Rimbaud to a Brussels railway station, where Verlaine "behaved as if he were insane." His bizarre behavior induced Rimbaud to "fear that he might give himself over to new excesses," so he turned and ran away. In his words, "it was then I [Rimbaud] begged a police officer to arrest him [Verlaine]." Verlaine was arrested for attempted murder and subjected to a humiliating medico-legal examination. He was also interrogated with regard to both his intimate correspondence with Rimbaud and his wife's accusations about the nature of his relationship with Rimbaud. Rimbaud eventually withdrew the complaint, but the judge nonetheless sentenced Verlaine to two years in prison.

At 21, Rimbaud quit writing and sought other employments to help him travel widely in Europe, The Dutch East Indies, and North Africa where he developed an infection in his leg in 1891. He shipped back to Marseilles, where the cancerous leg was amputated. He died in November of that year.

1926 – Edward Douglas-Scott-Montagu, 3rd Baron Montagu of Beaulieu (d.2015) was a British Conservative politician well known in Britain for founding the National Motor Museum, as well as for a pivotal cause célèbre in British gay history, his 1954 conviction and imprisonment for homosexual sex, a charge he denied.

Lord Montagu was born in London, and inherited his barony in 1929 at the age of two, when his father, the 2nd Baron Montagu of Beaulieu, was killed in an accident. He attended St. Peter's Court School and Ridley College in Canada, Eton College and New College, Oxford. He served in the Grenadier Guards, including service in Palestine before the end of the British Mandate. On coming of age, Lord Montagu immediately took his seat in the House of Lords and swiftly made his maiden speech on the subject of Palestine.

Lord Montagu knew from an early stage of life that he was bisexual, and while attending Oxford was relieved to find others with similar feelings. In a 2000 interview he stated,

"My attraction to both sexes neither changed nor diminished at university and it was comforting to find that I was not the only person faced with such a predicament. I agonised less than my contemporaries, for I was reconciled to my bisexuality, but I was still nervous about being exposed."

Despite keeping his homosexual affairs discreet and out of the public eye, in the mid-1950s, Lord Montagu became "one of the most notorious public figures of his generation," after his conviction and imprisonment for "conspiracy to incite certain male persons to commit serious offences with male persons," a charge which was also used in the Oscar Wilde trials in 1895, and remained on the books until 1967.

On two occasions Lord Montagu was charged and committed for trial at Winchester Assizes, firstly in 1953 for allegedly taking sexual advantage of a 14-year-old Boy Scout at his beach hut on the Solent, a charge he has always denied. When prosecutors failed to achieve a conviction, in what Lord Montagu has characterised as a "witch hunt" to secure a high-profile conviction, he was arrested again in 1954 and charged with performing "gross offences" with an RAF serviceman during a weekend party at the beach hut, located on Lord Montagu's country estate. Lord Montagu has always maintained he was innocent of this charge as well ("We had some drinks, we danced, we kissed, that's all.") Nevertheless, he was imprisoned for twelve months for "consensual homosexual offences" along with Michael Pitt-Rivers and Peter Wildeblood.

Unlike the other defendants in the trial, Lord Montagu continued to protest his innocence. The trial caused a backlash of opinion among some politicians and church leaders that led to the setting up of the Wolfenden Committee, which in its 1957 report recommended the decriminalisation of homosexual activity in private between two adults. Ten years later, Parliament finally carried out the recommendation, a huge turning point in gay history in Britain, where male homosexuality had been completely outlawed in statute law since 1533.

In a 2007 interview, when asked if he felt that he and his co-defendants had been instrumental in the decriminalisation of homosexuality in Britain, Lord Montagu said,

"I am slightly proud that the law has been changed to the benefit of so many people. I would like to think that I would get some credit for that. Maybe I'm being very boastful about it but I think because of the way we behaved and conducted our lives afterwards, because we didn't sell our stories, we just returned quietly to our lives, I think that had a big effect on public opinion."

The story of Lord Montagu's trial is told in a 2007 Channel 4 documentary, A Very British Sex Scandal.

1995 – Dalton Maldonado is an American high school basketball player and LGBT rights activist, who came to National prominence whe he shared his harrowing tale of intimidation when he came out at a high school basketball game in Kentucky.

In 2015, he was featured as one of the most influential people in the LGBT community by the magazine Out and he was named "Person of the Year" by Outsports. He grew up in Kentucky and became known after coming out after a basketball game. His coming out gained national attention after being featured in Outsports magazine. Maldonado wants to make sure no other teen endures the harassment he received after coming out in December 2014.

Following reports that he had been harassed because of his sexuality by the rival team from Bryan Station High School, both schools were challenged in the press. Both schools said that they had conducted internal investigations and denied any wrongdoing. The Fayette County Public Schools administration's investigation concluded that the event "was inaccurately reported and mischaracterized" by media.

After coming out, Maldonado's picture was left out of the two-page spread that commemorated his basketball team in his senior yearbook. In addition to the team photo, there were individual call-outs for every member of the team except Maldonado. His school, Betsy Layne High School, claimed that the omission was accidental and that the school district "holistically supports Dalton Maldonado just as we do all our students". They point out that the book includes 15 photos of Maldonado, including many that show him playing basketball.

Maldonado has a fragrance released by Xyrena called Formula 3, sales of which will support the LGBT sports organization "You Can Play". Fragrance industry analysts Basenotes claim that this is "the first signature fragrance from an openly gay athlete".

Maldonado was invited to speak at The Atlantic's inaugural LGBT summit in Washington D.C. in December 2015, aiming to "convene wide-ranging conversations on queer identity in America, at the end of a game-changing year in arenas from politics to pop culture".

1941 – South African police are called in to quiet a disturbance at a gold mine caused by the dismissal of 122 miners for refusing to stop dances in which boys are squeezed and kissed.

1987 – The US House Judiciary Committee voted 21-13 to approve a bill requiring the justice department to collect statistics on hate crimes, including anti-gay violence.

1987 – Over fifty ACT-UP members were arrested during an act of civil disobedience protesting President Reagan's lack of action in the AIDS epidemic. Another demonstration of about 150 people was held across the street from the United Nations building during the UN General Assembly's first debate on AIDS.

1997 – Portugal's first Gay and Lesbian Community Centre opened in Lisbon.

[richincolor]

Book Review: When We Become Ours: A YA Adoptee Anthology edited by Shannon Gibney & Nicole Chung

Summary: There is no universal adoption experience, and no two adoptees have the same story. This anthology for teens edited by Shannon Gibney and Nicole Chung contains a wide range of powerful, poignant, and evocative stories in a variety of genres.

These tales from fifteen bestselling, acclaimed, and emerging adoptee authors genuinely and authentically reflect the complexity, breadth, and depth of adoptee experiences.

This groundbreaking collection centers what it’s like growing up as an adoptee. These are stories by adoptees, for adoptees, reclaiming their own narratives.

With stories by: Kelley Baker, Nicole Chung, Shannon Gibney, Mark Oshiro, MeMe Collier, Susan Harness, Meredith Ireland, Mariama J. Lockington, Lisa Nopachai, Stefany Valentine, Matthew Salesses, Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom, Eric Smith, Jenny Heijun Wills, Sun Yung Shin, Foreword by Rebecca Carroll, Afterword by JaeRan Kim, MSW, PhD

My Thoughts: This is a much needed collection that provides an excellent collections of stories representing the adoptee experience. There are so few adopted characters in YA literature and of those few, rarely are those stories told by adoptees. I first heard about this book through Dr. Sarah Park Dahlen, who is an adoption studies scholar and was happy to finally get to read it this week.

In some of these stories adoption is a huge focus, but in some, while the main character is an adoptee, that isn’t really a major part of the plot. It’s a strength that there are such a variety of ways that the adoptees are portrayed. There is a poet, a relative of a queen, a road tripper, a person learning indigenous ways, two people on farms, someone who speaks to ghosts, and many more characters. The majority of the tales are contemporary realistic fiction, but one is sci-fi, one happens in a mythical queendom and two might be described as speculative fiction. One also has a comic format.

Each story feels distinct and unique, but there are common threads of identity, belonging, questioning, loss, anger, love, pain, and healing. Who am I? Where and who do I come from? Am I enough? Where do I fit? and so many other questions are asked and sometimes answered in these narratives. Like anyone coming of age, these teens are wondering so much about themselves, but living as adoptees adds another layer as they navigate the world and their place in it.

Recommendation: Get it now! This is a fantastic collection that many readers will connect with in many ways. It’s an excellent way for adoptees to possibly see some of their experiences on the page of a book and for others, this will be a way to possible see things from that perspective. Shannon Gibney & Nicole Chung have gathered together a talented group of authors and we’re fortunate to have this anthology in the world.

Publisher: HarperCollins Pages: 352 Availability: On shelves now Review Copy: Digital ARC

#book review #young adult books

[sasudou]

hi! i'm very new to bungou stray dogs and i was wondering if you could help me? can you tell me which order i should read everything? i know there is the manga which is the main thing, but there are also light novels? how do they fit in the universe, when should i read them and which one is important and which one is less important (to understand the story)? and is there anything else (aside from the manga, light novels and anime)?

hello!

sorry it took me a while to answer this 😭😭

ok so currently there are 8 published light novels:

osamu dazais entrance exam

this novel is set just a little before the manga starts and shows us how dazai entered the agency and how his and kunikidas partnership came to be. this novel was adapted into an anime version, but a lot of things were changed (example: it happened after atsushi joined and he was also part of the assignment), so i really recommend reading the light novel.

osamu dazai and the dark era

this novel is set during dazais last year in the port mafia. it talks about dazais relationship with oda and ango and how/why dazai left the mafia to join the agency. this was adapted into the anime pretty well (although some details are still missing, but hey adaptations aren’t perfect).

the untold origins of the detective agency

this novel is set before the agency was formed. it explains how ranpo and fukuzawa met and explains their backstory. this was recently adapted into the anime in the fourth season.

55 minutes

this novel doesn’t have a specific time where it fits?? it was after atsushi joined the agency and after he and akutagawa started their rivalry. but it’s super cute!! also it gives you some insight on dazais relationship with the members of the agency. it’s just all around super sweet. this has not been adapted into the anime.

dead apple

this is just the novel version of the dead apple movie. i don’t think there are a lot of differences??? but i prefer the movie simply because of the visuals

beast

this is an alternative universe type novel. i would really recommend reading this one because 1) it’s interesting 2) it does kinda help you understand the current plot + gives you some more insight on dazais character. this was not adapted into the anime, but there is a live action movie.

dazai, chuuya, age fifteen

this is a novel detailing how dazai and chuuya met. it’s very cute and i enjoyed it!! this has been adapted into the anime, but i prefer the novel.

stormbringer

this novel focuses on chuuya, his backstory, and his ability. he’s 16 in this novel. i really enjoyed this novel. but also i love chuuya so there is a bit of bias. this hasn’t been adapted into the anime

(there’s another novel called “the day i picked up dazai,” but that one isn’t currently available for sale to the public yet (and i’m not sure if it will be), but you can find fan translations online since they were distributed during the first and second week screening of the BEAST movie. this novel shows us how dazai and oda met in both the main universe and BEAST universe).

out of all these novels, i think the least important would be 55 minutes and dead apple. 55 minutes is cute but it’s not super essential to the story, and dead apple has a movie so… also dark era might fit into this category simply because it was well adapted?? so there’s really no need to read it if you’ve watched the anime (although the plot itself is incredibly important)

aside from the light novels, manga, and anime, we have a couple live actions and separate mangas.

live actions include…

BEAST

dark era

stormbringer

fifteen

dead apple

bungo stray dogs on stage (which is just the beginning of the manga)

three companies conflict (which is an arc in the manga)

untold origins + dazais entrance exam

cannibalism (which is an arc in the manga)

you don’t have to watch these, but they’re fun! the actors are great.

now onto other mangas!!

we got…

bsd wan (this is just a funny little gag manga)

all the bsd anthologies (basically the same thing as wan except without the chibi art style)

bsd BEAST manga adaptation

bsd fifteen manga adaptation

bsd dead apple manga adaptation

you don’t have to read these since most of them are just copies of the light novel. as for wan and the anthologies, they’re just fun little side stories that you also don’t have to read.

i think that’s it’s but i typed all this pretty fast so i may have forgotten something. if i did, sorry!

have fun!!

edit: i just remembered that i forgot to add gaiden (also known as bungo stray dogs another story). it’s a light novel set in the bsd universe, but it doesn’t follow the main cast. there’s a manga adaptation too!!

[madhogthymaster]

Down The Cabbit Hole: The Weird World of Klonoa Literature - An Archive (Part 3)

[PART 1] [PART 2]

This is where our burrowing ends, in the most awkward crevices of pro-bono fandom work: the oxygen-depriving hole of amateurishly translated Japanese comics. The older among you might recall the days where the only way to read your favourite unpopular manga was to rely on some random fellow on the Internet to provide it through the incomparable medium of "scanlations." That is to say, poorly scanned pages from a physical copy they somehow owned subsequently localized through the power of Grit, Determination and Google Translate. Right about now, your bones should have begun turning to dust. Before you're gone from this world, however, please consider holding on for a while longer as I share my last archived tweets on the subject of Fluffy Boy Literature. As you might have guessed, the covered works belong within the domain of fan-translated scans and, as such, they occupy a very specific, very niche place in that befuddling collective unconscious we all know as The Web. In layman terms, stuff's about the get wacky.

---

25 July 2022

It is now time to enter the (forbidden) world of Klonoa's physical literary media - as scanned and translated by community hero, powerstone05. Appropriately, I will start with the much lesser known, unofficial and self-published story by Mofusuke, Dream at Night.

-

I shall not rag too hard on the obviously unprofessional translation work here - it was done by a fan, after all. The awkward lettering and sentence repetition give it the distinct charm of something decisively made in the early days of "Scanlationns."

-

Which is a surprisingly good fit to the adorably simple art style that was also drawn by a fan. I do like the sibling dynamic between Klonoa and Huepow, whereas the latter acts as an impatient older brother to the former. Grandpa reprimanding them at the end is the icing on top of this fluff cake.

-

There isn't much else to say: it is a short, fifteen pages long doujinshi and it's pure slice-of-life. It is all it wanted and needed to be.

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As an addendum: the existence of the Namco x Capcom anthology manga, based off the Japanese-exclusive gaming crossover of the same name, has been made known to me. I've read the only Klonoa centric comic from it and it's just one dumb, obnoxiously protracted joke. I don't care for this.

-

27 July 2022

I have been postponing the inevitable for far too long. This is Shippuu Tengoku Kaze no Klonoa (2002-2003) by Hiroshi Katou as questionably, yet valiantly, scanslated by powerstone05. It is the most "renowned" official literature within the Klonoa community.

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Ah, of course... puns. Bad puns. Bad Japanese puns localized into English. Those puns.

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This manga is a fast-paced, madcap comedy - emphasis on fast-paced. It moves at a speed of a million kilometers per hour, constantly shooting visual gags at your face on almost every panel without any proper sense of pacing and with flimsily established setups.

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The translation does not help but it's clear that this lack of focus and breathing time between jokes is an intrinsic issue. Frankly, I find this brand of "Machine Gun Humour" exhausting to read. I'd much prefer my comedy to be akin to a shotgun: powerful and deliberate.

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On the other hand, I enjoy the artwork. Take a look at this delightfully detailed two page spread of pure wanton destruction, capped by Klonoa's comically traumatized features.

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It must be pointed out that the entire premise of this manga is Klonoa being the biggest moron who ever lived. Your mileage with it may vary.

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Right! This manga is turning into a "Looney Tunes" short and I'm starting to warm up to it. Katou has a clear penchant for slapstick humour. The propeller hat made me chuckle.

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I finished reading the whole thing - well, skimming would be the appropriate term. It's a tiresome little deviation that could not quite distract me from its flaws. There isn't anything worth noting as all the over-the-top, frenetically paced gags tends to blend together.

-

With that, I have successfully covered all the major, currently available comic book media related to Klonoa: a thoroughly mixed bag, overall.

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The fan-made web series Dream Crusaders sits atop the proverbial hill even with its troublesome connection to the insipid Sol Noctis storyline. Everything else is various degrees of forgettable or insubstantial.

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'Tis an unsurprising result considering how hard to follow the games are - the first two games, that is. Regardless, this was an illuminating experience in its own right from the perspective of how malleable (or not at all) this franchise can be. Thanks for reading.

---

As a posthumous note, there was a final piece of literature worth mentioning to you, an officially licensed short manga that served as promotional material, introduction and basic tutorial for the 2009's Nintendo Wii remake of the first game, Klonoa: Door to Phantomile. The comic is readily available online if you're curious about it.

With that, the excavation has been halted, the dream has ended, my terrible analogies have been put to rest, my archive has been shared. As I lack a romantic way to see us out of here, I shall simply bid you a fond farewell and a good night sleep. Stay wondrous, fellow Phantomilians.

#madhog thy master #fluffy boy literature #klonoa #down the cabbit hole #part 3 #scanlations #manga #comedy #namco x capcom #doujinshi #twitter

[logicheartsoul]

I was talking with @livingincolorsagain and these random thoughts came into my head and next thing you know, it became a million years long. It’s kind of long, so putting some of it under a read more.

Also, shout-out to @talk3tiv3 @lupusxuniversum and @saryasy for wanting me to post it, so here.

So, I was thinking about writing and having this idea about Bucky not able to be able TO write (he can journal but journaling isn’t really something polished and unique, it’s just emotion and thought dumping for his own private eyes) but he has all these overwhelming feelings about Sam. 

He wishes he could write beautiful love letters, like he had been taught in the past, but words end up clumsy and silly in his head after all he’s been through and he thinks that the 40’s version of him could do that but not him. And all his letters would be too hard or plain for a guy like Sam who deserves romance and to be wooed. 

His therapist suggests if he wants to write creatively but letters and stories are too hard, to find another medium. Maybe something like drawing or music or etc. Bucky says he’ll think about it. Even though he went to art school with Steve, drawing was more Steve’s thing and he was skilled at it. Bucky’s art skills tend to be more engineer based and whatever he draws wouldn’t convey the feelings in his heart. He’s ok at singing — not the worst but not the best, he can hold a decent note but not all the time, and sometimes when he gets too distracted, either caught in the feeling or too goofy, his voice goes off key. He doesn’t want to embarrass Sam like that, though Sam being serenaded is an idea he tucks away into a pocket. 

And then he goes to the bookstore, a local one that has second hand books but also sells new things and they’re having a live reading of some local artist. Bucky stands around in the back, curious of the group, and turns out it’s a poet, reading some of their favorite poems but also a few of their own from their new book. 

And the poetry — the poetry ranges from extremely beautiful and full of flowery prose to some very simple but hard hitting lines that stick after the next one is read. There’s prose poetry and poetry with rhyme that seems more like the melody line of a song. The last fifteen minutes, which is what Bucky catches, goes by quick with a short q&a session, and Bucky gets the courage to ask about poetry, writing it, how to go about it, especially if you haven’t done it before. It’s the last question that gets answered coz it was so thoughtful, and the poet gets too into the answers but that’s ok coz the rest of the audience is raptured just as Bucky is. It feels like the lecture hall of an English class and Bucky is the most willing student.

And then once the answer is finished, the autograph session is up and Bucky gets in line, sees the table full of the poet’s work. Several books, including the newest, but also a selected anthology of poems with annotations from the poet, a mix of their work and others. Bucky picks up that one, seeing the subject matter is varied along with their newest book. It’s autobiographical almost, but it talks about life, loss, love, and politics and the way the world affects those with a voice not of the white, cisheteronormative majority, especially non-Christian, and it’s certainly an eye opener. It’s someone’s voice not of his own but not to control him, but to tell their own truth to share to others willing to listen. Yeah, he hasn’t bought it yet, but he is gonna get it signed. 

He’s near the end of the line, letting others go first who might want to see this poet, vibrating with anticipatory excitement. And then his turn comes up and the poet’s eyes brighten and thank him for such a wonderful question. And then, seeing both books, asks 1) which one he’d like to sign or if he wants both coz he’s near the end of the line so it’s no struggle and 2) what made him ask that question earlier. And he confesses a bit about having all these thoughts and feelings but no way to put it in words until he heard the poetry today. And he wondered if that could be for himself too. And the poet is like, well, it might not always turn out good, but you keep writing until something feels right and you do it again and again. You can keep the old attempts or trash it, you can edit the hell out of things if he’s that kind of person or just start from scratch, but it’s a process of discovery if he’s willing to take it and not be perfect from the get go. But it’s definitely guaranteed to help get all those feelings out no matter now pretty the words sound or not. 

And then Bucky gives thanks and the poet asks for his name and he gives his full name, James Buchanan Barnes but if you’d like to use my common nickname, that’s fine and the poet pauses and blinks looking at him like, I knew you looked a bit familiar. Are you for real that’s your name? 

Bucky laughs like, yeah yeah that’s me and the poet is like I know people name their kids after famous people all the time so your name isn’t what bugs me it’s just putting your name with your face made it click. 

Bucky goes, oh. 

And they both have a laugh and Bucky goes “you can address it to Bucky, if you want” and then the poet writes some words of encouragement on the anthology hoping these poems will help guide Bucky on his writing journey for whatever is inside his head and heart and for their own hoping he enjoys these words written, to a fellow poet. And then they shake hands and Bucky rings up the books, not getting any of the other potential new sci-fi or fantasy novels he was thinking of getting and goes home. 

Sam isn’t home which is good coz he doesn’t want him to know what he purchased. Puts the books in his room.

He brings out a clean journal from his journal stash — he hasn’t stopped chronicling his life for his own edification and he sometimes doesn’t want to go buy some more to write it down. Finds one that looks “artsy” enough and picks a pen and starts writing. It’s all a dump of feelings and emotions, loss, memory, belonging, feeling out of time. Also about rediscovery, healing, finding home again, finding hope, finding a love he never thought he’d fine. Home and happiness and family and a place to belong. And Sam. All thorough lines that lead to Sam.

Sam sees Bucky scribbling away in these notebooks from time to time but doesn’t question it — not from his collection when they confiscated it back in Romania (and took forever to get back) or when he asked him about it and Bucky explained it was for his memory and therapy. 

But on a free weekend, one day, he sees him with the light shining down on his face, sometimes almost like a painting or a well shot photograph and he makes these faces, sometimes beaming with pride, sometimes scrunched like he’s scrutinizing something under a microscope and then crossing things out enthusiastically or erasing depending on if it’s a pen or pencil. And it gets Sam curious. Bucky has been writing with more face journeys going on than he usually does just journaling. 

And he asks. 

Bucky lightly goes, “oh, I got into poetry recently. Something my therapist suggested.” 

Sam is like “you, writing poetry?” 

Bucky goes “yeah, I don’t know if it’s any good but it’s nice to create something, something positive with these hands.” 

And Sam thinks those hands have done positive things already: fix the boat, help out with their neighbors, with Sarah and the boys watching over them or helping with errands or family game nights, helping Sam with his wounds, shielding people from getting hurt, lending a hand to pick them up. 

But Sam doesn’t say anything and he goes makes a joke about Bucky wanting to be the next best American poet and Bucky laughs and goes hell no, I’m not that good, but thanks for the vote of confidence. 

And then Sam drops it and asks if he wants anything for lunch since there’s still leftovers but he’s gonna fix a sandwich on his weekend off. And Bucky goes you go ahead, I can fix one myself and gets back to writing, the cats winding their bodies around Sam’s feet in the kitchen since Bucky is too preoccupied. Sam setting a sandwich on the side table anyway as he scrolls on his phone, reading his ebooks or watching a vid or two at a reasonable volume so he can hear it but not distract Bucky. The cats sometimes looking at Bucky but then cuddling with Sam. 

Bucky, finishing, lost in his words and sees Sam lightly napping on the couch, the cats doing the same. The sandwich on the plate. He writes about the serenity and how perfect that moment is. Home and peace right there. Takes a pic with his phone surreptitiously and makes it his lock screen before he eats the sandwich. Cleans up after both he and Sam and washes the dishes, the cats mildly awake and listening to the rushing water but don’t move.

Bucky starting prep on early dinner because time flew so fast. He makes something he’s good at that Sam also thinks is good and they haven’t had it in awhile. Once it’s out of the prep stage the cats get active again and start to eat and drink while Bucky is in full swing, Sam waking up to the smell of home cooked meals made with love and Bucky lightly humming. 

He rubs his bleary eyes and trots slowly to the kitchen, asks with a yawn if Bucky wants any help and he says, no but it’s almost done, I need to set the table and Sam touches his arm going, I’ll do it and goes and does it. 

After it’s set, Sam peers over Bucky’s shoulder as he’s taste testing for seasoning and Sam’s like let me and like an indirect kiss he tests it and it really is the right balance of seasoned. Bucky’s cooking practice is paying off. 

And it’s there Bucky can’t help himself with Sam’s soft smile of contentment, pleased at the taste, his warm brown eyes, and the close proximity of him — he tells him a poem. A poem about him, and love. It’s short, it’s from his heart, it’s about right now. 

Sam blinks and he goes “that’s beautiful. Who wrote it?” 

Bucky goes, I did. Just now. 

Sam is all damn that’s wow. You? Just now? That’s good poetry, Buck. 

Bucky goes, “only because it comes from the heart”. 

And then, he says another poem, about his heart, his love, and the two of them. 

Sam laughing a shocked chuckle, are you confessing to me? Are you saying you love me? Are you pulling moves right now? 

Bucky goes it’s not a move when it’s what I really feel for you. 

And Sam, Sam’s eyes are tearing up, he can’t believe it, and Bucky turns the stove off, he places the spoon down, he cups Sam’s face, his thumb brushing his check under his eyes like don’t cry, sweetheart I don’t want to make you sad and Sam grabbing his hand and going and kissing his palm, kissing his lips, chaste and sweet and a tear falls; he presses his forehead against Bucky’s while Bucky wipes his tears and he looks at him and his eyes are saying it’s been so long since someone loved me like that who wasn’t obligated, someone who has seen me at my highs and lows, someone who has been with me to the brink and back and Bucky kisses him again and goes I love you, Sam.

Then the cats meowing leads them to break away and for Bucky to serve dinner, for Sam to hear all of Bucky’s poetry writing woes and journey, interspersed with Sam’s thoughts of the day — catching up on family, neighborhood gossip, his viewpoints on some of his high school friends getting together and the few videos he watched while Bucky was writing. Both of them laughing and rapt with attention. And love, so much love. 

And then later, for Sam’s birthday, he gives him a little rough handmade booklet of paper full of poems he wrote about him.

His therapist, after he reveals this, is pleasantly happy and surprised, along with the good developments in his life. 

And Bucky is truly happy, settled in a way. He has a family, a home, a love, a community, purpose, a place to belong. It’s not always smooth and some days there are setbacks but they’re surmountable. 

And there’s Sam. Sam’s happiness can get him through all the dark days, he’s sure.

#headcanons #imagines #MCU #sambucky #my writing #I guess #did i just write something so bucky would give sam a million poems about his love for him? yeah #it got a smidge meta there about writing ngl #anyhow hope y’all enjoy

[sistahscifi]

Be warned, dear reader: The Black girls survive in this one.

A YA anthology of horror stories centering Black girls who battle monsters, both human and supernatural, and who survive to the end

Celebrating a new generation of bestselling and acclaimed Black writers, The Black Girl Survives in This One makes space for Black girls in horror. Fifteen chilling and thought-provoking stories place Black girls front and center as heroes and survivors who slay monsters, battle spirits, and face down death. Prepare to be terrified and left breathless by the pieces in this anthology.

The bestselling and acclaimed authors include Erin E. Adams, Monica Brashears, Charlotte Nicole Davis, Desiree S. Evans, Saraciea J. Fennell, Zakiya Dalila Harris, Daka Hermon, Justina Ireland, L. L. McKinney, Brittney Morris, Maika & Maritza Moulite, Eden Royce, and Vincent Tirado. The foreword is by @TananariveDue.

https://sistahscifi.com/products/the-black-girl-survives-in-this-one-horror-stories?_pos=1&_sid=c1f14ffca&_ss=r

Reposted @ll_mckinney She came in the mail today.

The way I live for this cover.

💅🏼

#bookstagram #horror #finalblackgirl #blackwriters #theblackgirlsurvivesinthisone #sistahscifi

@flatiron_books

@v_e_tirado

@zakiyadalilaharris

@literarydesiree

[vagueandominousvibes]

Hi everyone,

I’m delighted to be kicking off this year’s Four Swords Advent Anthology over at @fsadventanthology with my fanfic If Happy Lives a Mile Away! 

I was originally going to submit a different entry, and had it all written out and ready (a nice 1,000-and-something-words one-shot about Blue dealing with chronic pain), but then this thing seized me by the throat and refused to let go until I’d banged it out, so here we are. Hopefully you’ll all enjoy it :D

.

If Happy Lives a Mile Away

Summary: Red is a fifteen-years-old unsworn mage — the lowest of classes in Hyrule, feared by the ruling class for their unregulated powers. He's not supposed to venture beyond the slums. He's not supposed to leave Castletown. And he's not, under any circumstances, supposed to venture beyond the slums and leave Castletown to go on dates with Blue, the sixteen-years-old son of Lord Arn.

Word Count: 4,993

Relationship(s): Blue Link/Red Link; Vio Link/Shadow Link (background)

Character(s): Red Link, Blue Link, Green Link, Vio Link, Shadow Link, Link’s father

Warning(s): fluff; fluff and angst; angst with a happy ending; class differences; class issues; Alternate Universe (vaguely Austen-esque/Dickensian, but with magic); unofficial double dates; Blue is (briefly) a Damsel, but he's too unconscious to be in Distress; they're also technically not heroes in this one

READ ON Ao3 HERE

#four swords #four swords advent anthology #fsaa #fanfics #my writing