#grey’s birthday mailing list

[itsmccomplicated]

happy birthday sofia sloan-torres!

#okay technically it could be today tomorrow or the day after but we’re celebrating on the 7th #yeah i’m a sofia superfan what about it #grey’s anatomy #sofia sloan torres #7x18 #assorted grey’s anatomy thoughts #grey’s birthday mailing list #also eleven years since the musical episode (chronologically) how epic is that

[aphroditestempleimagines]

Out of a fairytale (18+) - part 1

Pairing: Edgar Allan Poe x fem!reader

Colour: Sweet and romantic

Warnings: fluff, romantic sex, vaginal sex, fingering, oral (fem and male receiving) + 69, language, nipple play, orgasm delay (implied), outdoor sex, thigh riding, come swallowing, kissing, handjob, cold play, a bit of food, established relationship

Words: idk like 2000 and smth

Summary: You receive a curious present for your birthday; the peculiar book arrived in the mail first thing in the morning. When you open it, you are transported to a fairytale-like castle where your lover has scripted every detail to perfection.

Part 1 ~ Royalcore version 《

Part 2 ~ Gothic Version

The knock on the door caught you by surprise. Your heart fluttered at the thought of your lover’s image standing outside your house. Alas, your excitement was for nought, as all you gazed upon was a scruffy delivery man. 

“Sign here”, he said after handing you a rectangular package. He held a receiver form in one hand, pen under thumb, and texted on his phone with the other.

“I didn’t order anything”, you objected.

“Is that your name and address?”, he said without taking his eyes from his phone.

“eh...y-yes?”

“Then sign here”, he pushed the form towards you once again.

With your birthday being just the day before you paid no more thought to the package’s origins. A lot of your friends were abroad and you were used to receiving presents from them by mail. It was only that...he was away as well.

Your pen pondered on the paper amidst signing your name. For the first time since you were seeing each other, Poe had to leave your home in Japan to return to America. On top of that, his work meant that he would not be allowed to see you on your birthday. He had called you early in the morning the day before to shower you with sweet words. But it was not the same. You took the package into your arms to compensate for the loss of your lover. It was not enough either. 

You thanked the delivery man and retrieted into your home. The package was not particularly lightweight yet not really heavy either. As you peeled the brown wrapper you confirmed rather than realised that it was a book. Its white hard cover was beautifully bound with a rose ribbon bookmark hanging from the top, and the title “The Princess and the Poet” displayed in golden letters at the front. There was no writer listed on the cover. One would have thought after a year together you would had automatically guessed who it was from. But in the early morning daze that clouded your brain, all you could think of doing is open the book to check inside. 

“ This is the tale of two lovers, who loved with a love that was more than love. The poet and his princess. With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven coveted her and him.”

Even as you read those first words your body was surrounded by a golden cloud of words, a cloud which shrouded your entire room and transported you somewhere new. Suddenly, you were standing in the middle of an internal garden. Your simple pajamas were replaced by an elegant pastel gown. Your heels clicked on the rose marble floor as you approached the Sakura tree in the middle. The small rosey petals were carried by a wind of unknown origin throughout the room. The small skylight at the crown of the dome let the light of the sunset seep into the ballroom, painting it in shades of soft orange and red. It did not take you long now to realise what had happened.

"I'm so glad you came", a familiar voice said behind you.

You turned around to see your lover standing at the entrance of the room. He wore a white and grey prince's uniform with a long one-shoulder creme cape. His hair was pulled back at one side exposing one of his eyes. He extended his hand towards you and gave you a regal bow. Even from that distance, you could see his cheeks and ears grow red as he did his best to act like the character he had created.

"Ed!", you beamed and ran towards him. You threw your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his hair. The familiar scent of cologne, ink, and jasmine that surrounded you convinced you of his existence.

He wrapped his arms around you as well. You felt his hand behind your head as he buried his face in your shoulder. "I'm sorry I missed it", he said in sorrow, "I thought I had calculated the times perfectly"

"It's okay", you squeezed him in your arms, "At least now you're here now."

He lifted your head by the cheek and chased the draught away from your lips with a long-awaited sweet kiss. "I made two copies of the book I sent you", he said, "So no matter the distance, we can always meet here"

"Shouldn't there be a murder here?", you asked, "Isn't that how your ability works?"

He smiled. "I don't need a murder", he said, "Just a mystery". His arm held you close by the waist while he guided you through the ballroom to a white and golden door. It opened as the two of you approached to reveal a beautiful garden of roses surrounding a white marble gazebo. The sweet smell of the flowers accompanied you as you walked down the stone-paved path. He retrieved his hand from your waist as you reached the small building. He let you take his hand as you climbed the steps. Under the gazebo's dome, Edgar had scripted a luxurious set of pillows and sheets and mattresses, next to a plethora of the sweetest delicacies. He supported you as you took a seat before resting at your side.

"I brought us right to the ending", he said, "As the writer, I know it would be much more interesting for the two of us"

"I'm sure", you smiled and placed your hand over his, "I missed you"

He looked at you with those puppy dog eyes, as if he could not believe the words that left your mouth. He fell back to his awkward mannerisms as he reached for the strawberry cake in front of him. "You should try this", he hid his face behind the plate, "I wrote it was delicious so it should be delicious."

You gladly accepted the dessert, if only to reveal Poe's blushed cheeks from behind it. You cut out a small bite and brought it into your mouth. Your eyes closed; the sweetness of the cream filled your senses, only battled by the sourness of fresh strawberries. "It's delicious", you said as soon as you swallowed. You did not have time to open your eyes before Ed crashed his lips onto yours. His kiss was sweeter than the cake and bolder than usual. He tasted the sweet dessert in your mouth before pulling back. His entire face was redder than a radish and you knew he had intended for this scene to play out exactly as it did.

"Indeed", he said, trying to cover his blush with the back of his hand, "Delicious"

"You know", you put down the plate and fork, "I know what you're planning"

Edgar looked at you, the reddish tint never leaving his cheeks. "Do you?", his eyes looked at you worriedly as if he had been caught stealing.

You walked towards him on your hands and knees. He reclined backwards as you came close. "I do", you said climbing on top of him. You could hear his ragged breath as you crashed your lips on his. He cupped your cheek and pulled you closer so he could once again taste the sweetness of your mouth. You grinded your hips on him to spite him. You swallowed a moan from him before he managed to grip your waist and keep you still. "What's wrong?", your smile teased him as much as your body. You leaned close enough to whisper in his ear, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

His lips traced your bare neck. His arms were sweetly wrapped around your torso as if guarding a treasure. He span the two of you around, hand protecting your precious head. "You have no idea", his eyes were closed as he touched his forehead on yours. His lips were sweet, drinking your melodious sighs. Your body was encased underneath his, his knees on each side of you. You could feel his bulge brush over you each time he lowered his body enough to kiss you.

"And here I thought you were a gentleman", your fingers combed his hair as he kissed you right above the bust. His one hand was already undoing the laces of your dress, but he stopped at the sound of your voice.

He seemed genuinely worried as he asked, "Would you like me to stop?"

He had this adorable shimmer in his pleading eyes. You knew he hung from your every word. He had pulled himself away at the slightest notion of discomfort, even if it was a mere jest on your part. Even so, nothing could hide the undying desire that blazed inside him and made his heart and breath race.

"Oh Ed", you laughed at his sweet confusion, "I only want you to stop when you finally had enough of me"

He smiled. "You are asking too much my love", he leaned back over you. He pulled your dress down until your body was rid of it, leaving you in your undergarments. "If I do that, I shall have to continue for eternity", he placed your hands over your breasts before he climbed down between your legs, "Or at least until my heart sings its last beat".

He lifted your chemise and buried his face on your mount. His tongue slipped between your rosey walls as he held your thighs apart. He alternated between kisses and licks as his fingers began circling your sensitive bud.

"Fuck, ED!", you could not help your body from arching as his lips shifted to suck on your bud, and he thrust two of his fingers inside you. You were by now more than wet enough to accommodate them. He knew your body so well that they curled and hit just the right spots inside you to make your body quiver in desire. He seemed to be melting more and more at each call of his name. He climbed higher. With his hand still working on your lower lips, his mouth captivated your upper ones. He placed one hand on your nape as he broke the kiss, letting his moans explode on your skin. You felt his breath on your cheeks, his need in his voice. He scissored his fingers. Your legs lifted on their own as he pressed on your silky walls. You wanted him. Your hands reached for his embroidered coat and began undoing its golden buttons until they could reach beneath the silk white shirt that hid behind. You knew your hands were cold from the stone's chill, but only when he trembled under their touch and you felt the scolding heat of his torso did you realise just how much you were torturing him. You could feel your wetness as it dripped from you to his fingers.

He broke free. He shook his jacket off and threw it aside. He pulled his shirt and got his head tangled up in the white fabric. You laughed. You heard his light chuckle underneath the tent he had made for himself. You sat up and helped him pull it off. The moment he was freed he reached for your body and pulled you onto his embrace. Your hips met his as your core drenched his light grey trousers. He collided his lips with yours. Your kiss was like water to a dying man. His hands cupped your exposed breasts, thumbs brushing over the nipples in a way that had you aching for more.

You pushed him down. His body fell on the white sheet on which he had displayed the food, framed by the numerous delicacies he had prepared. His chest heaved, his expression painful as he examined your body with his gaze. He reached for the laces of your pulled-down corset but you pushed his hand away. Your eyes fixed on his, you slowly undid the garment, leaving you only in your chemise which you easily took off. A slight chill enveloped your body. Your hands clamped around your torso at the sudden breeze, your body slightly shivering. Edgar's warm hand cupped your cheek. He had raised his body to reach your lips. He pulled you against him, his one hand rubbing up and down your torso, his other moving your hips against his thighs.

"Ed..."

"I know my love", his voice was strained as he pulled out a condom from his pocket, "I want you too". He freed his length from his trousers and dressed it. He slid the tip by your needy lips but never past them. "I want you so so much", he whispered between kisses, "so so much"

His length finally penetrated you. He let out a large moan that mixed with the sound of yours.

"You're so beautiful", he said as he began working his thrusts.

He held your hips to meet his in tandem until his head fell back. His eyes kept trying to focus back on yours, to check if your pleasure was as delightful as his, yet he kept losing himself in its depths.

"Edgar!", you cried in happiness. You shot your hand down on the floor to support you. Your fingers curled, clutching the white tablecloth instinctively as your back arched in your body's delight.

"Gah", he reached to rub eights on your bud. His lips caressed your breasts as he planted kisses closer and closer to their centres. You cried his name again. His hips met yours again and again, each time more agile and rough than the last. "God", he huffed on your chest, "Stay with me forever"

"I will!", you cried. His scraped your spine with his nails to urge your body into a tremble. His other hand pressed harsher on you, his eyes, ever watchful on your expression as you melted in his arms. He had his own struggle as your walls squeezed him the closer he brought you to ecstasy. He sought comfort in your body. He distracted himself with more kisses and loving nips at your skin. At last you let go. Your body slumped as the knot way down deep burst under the skill of his sword. You could not feel the chill any longer.

His tired breath exploded against your face. A satisfied smile appeared on his lips. He pressed his forehead on yours. "I love you so much", he tucked your hair, wet from sweat, behind your reddened ears. He planted a chaste kiss on your lips, one which you did not allow to remain anything other than deep.

He pulled out, resting your hips on his thighs. He continued to caress you, but you could feel how hard he still was as your own juices darkened his pulled trousers. "Edgar", you kissed him, "You're not done"

"It's okay", his arms kept you close as he nipped at your neck. "It's enough for me that you are"

He could be so stubborn sometimes. "It's not for me", your hand reached down for his erection. Your fingers wrapped around his length, moving up and down until they removed the condom. Your thumb brushed what precum came from the end. Edgar had buried his face in your shoulder. His expression was hidden, but his sounds were ever audible as his touch desperately sought yours. You did not see when his hand scooped some of the cake until the frosting touched your lips. You had begun kissing him lower, climbing down, when they nudged at the side of your mouth. You let them in. The sugary feeling and the softness of the cream overp-

"Sit on my face"

"Hm?", his fingers were still in your mouth. You were happy you did not bite them, but it seemed that he had led them there intentionally.

He brushed his thumb over the corner of your mouth. "If you're going...to do this haah...", he could not control his breath now that your fingers worked faster, "I need to...to make you feel good too"

He averted his gaze as soon as you sought it. He was red up to the tip of his ears. You retracted your hand, licking his precum off your fingers before you pulled him for a kiss. "Okay", you said.

You turned your body around until your hips were above his face. You were careful with how much weight you let down, fearful to crush him, but his hands pulled you down against his lips. He greedily kissed every part between your legs before he let his tongue work your walls once more. He was much more forceful than when you two had begun, almost making you forget what you were supposed to do. You could not reject that this had been his intention either.

With your eyes still clouded, you buried your face between his legs, your hands blindly working at his length as you confessed your cries to his skin. You could feel the effect you had on him even with such a small effort. But that had not been the point. You wanted him to feel at the very least as good as he made you feel. You kissed his length at the side before taking it in your mouth. Your fingers continued to work down at whatever you could not take.

"Fuuuck", he breathed, "Y/n!"

Much like you could not focus earlier, now he was losing his edge. But not for long. He tested your core before finally inserting three of his fingers inside. You were still sensitive enough for a tremble to spread to your limps, but your body still accepted him gratefully. He dipped his other hand in the melted ice that was supposed to keep the champagne cold before he pressed it at the edge of your clit. You squeaked and closed your legs around him. It felt so good. He felt so good. You picked up your pace. He moaned against you but that only contributed to your own pleasure even more. You could not keep your body from the fall any longer. The cord snapped and he lapped at your entrance as you sat heavier on him. But he was not far behind, you could feel it in the heavy breaths he tried to hide by kissing your lower lips again. You could see it in the way his toes curled and his legs retracted as much as he tried to hold them planted. His hands held your hips as he fell back and cried for you. His breaths were desperate as his essence filled your mouth. You could not see his face, but his body lifted yours up and down simply with the strength of his breaths filling his lungs.

You climbed off him. He immediately reached for you and pulled you into his embrace. He kissed you on the forehead, then the nose. His arms wrapped tightly around you. He was taller than you, and so he opted to pull your face to rest on his chest as he pressed his cheek on your hair. His breathing slowly calmed down. His eyes were closed but he was not asleep.

"I've missed you so much", he murmured. His voice was always so expressive, so evident of the pain or joy he felt.

You held him tighter, hiding your face in his chest. "I missed you too", your whisper was almost inaudible; but he heard it and chuckled as he petted your hair.

You pulled your body upwards. You reached for two of the pillows you had scattered around with your dalliance and placed them side to side for your heads to rest. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing up and down your skin.

"You said this is a mystery novel", you told him, arms hooking underneath his before resting your palm on his back, "I'm curious, what's the mystery"

He smiled. "I don't think I'll reveal it just yet", he said, "And please don't do so either even if you find it out yourself." He placed another kiss on your nose, moving his body close enough for his forehead to touch yours once more. His one arm snaked underneath you. "Call me greedy", he said, "But I'd like to hold you in my arms at the very least a little bit longer"

He closed his eyes again. His lips were smiling as he appreciated the moment to its full.

You smiled too. "How could I ever object to that?", you told him and followed his example.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I never had a taglist until today but:

@stygianoir

This feels lowkey weird

#poe #bsd poe #bsd smut #bsd x reader #edgar allan poe #edgar allan poe bsd #poe x reader #bsd poe x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs smut

[artificial-ascension]

Reading through the wolrds surely most accurate source, Death Note fan wiki, I have accumulated a list of Wammys kid letters that are confirmed in some source to have an individual associated:

A- First successor of L, dead by suicide, mentioned in Death Note: Another Note

B- Beyond Birthday, number two of the first known successors behind A and a main character of Death Note: Another Note

D- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

E- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

F- Appears in the opening of L: Change The World film on a massion for L, dies via helicopter attack*

G- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

H- Sends L an email informing him of F's death in L: Change The World

I- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

J- Appears in the game L: The Prologue To Death Note, the game is unavailable in English so little is know of them, presumably a Wammys kid based on name, a separate J appears in the second episode of Death Note: A New Generation, she is not out right stated to be a Wammys kid, but she is assumed to be

K- Antagonist of L: Change The World book and film

L- If you do not know who L is why are you here, also Linda is a child who appears briefly in the manga and is responsible for the drawings of Near and Mello (I belive that is only presumed but I may be wrong, I can not remember where it was said)

M- Mello, second successor of generation four and a main antagonist of Death Note's main series and Matt, unranked member of generation four appearing as Mello's comrade in both anime amd manga

N- Near, successor of L and number one of generation four, appears in half the places L dose

P- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

Q- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film

R- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film, their letter is greyed out, presumably indicating they are dead**

T- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film, their letter is greyed out, presumably indicating they are dead

V- Shown on L's mailing list in L: Change The World film, their letter is greyed out, presumably indicating they are dead

X- Alluded to in Death Note: Another Note as helping in a detective war with L

Y- Alluded to in Death Note: Another Note as helping in a detective war with L

Z- Alluded to in Death Note: Another Note as helping in a detective war with L

Unused letters- C, O, S, T, U, W***, possibly J as both instances of the usage are for individuals only presumed to be successors

Letters with known duplicates- L and M, J(?)

------

Conclusion:

1. L: Change The World introduced a shit ton of Wammys lore for apparently shits and giggles.

2. Alot less dead Wammys kids than I expected. (Only 9/24, that's only over a third. Maybe 10/24 if you count Watari.)

3. I can understand not finding a U or V, but how the hell were there no genius orphans with S or C names??

4. It is impossible for a Death Note title to not have a : in it.

------

Notes:

I got this information from the fan wiki and my brain. If it is wrong I'd like to know. I'd also love to hear of any more orphans the fan wiki or I missed.

------

*I can verify that that happened. I remember it vividly. Only known Wammys kid to die from a helicopter.

**A greyed name implies death as B's name was also greyed out. However, this also implies L could readily email B whenever he wanted, which is extremely funny.

***W is often totoed as Watari's letter. However, I am not considering him a Wammys kid but this may mean some of the letters shown do not indicate successors but rather other Wammys higher ups.

#this list is for fun I just wanted to see what letters were never used in any source #I find it fascinating that C was never used as it is many people's go to letter for a wammys oc #death note #a death note #beyond birthday #wammys house #l lawliet #mail jeevas #nate river #mihael keehl #I hope I spelled Mellos name right #and on his birthday no less #kimiko kujo #k should be tagged more often she's amazing

[caughtaghostsomehow]

Just a Matter of Time

A flurry fanfic for MoA’s ( @maiden-of-asgard ) Frostbite *again* because tumblr is being a lil bitch

Especially for @sassy-potato-yall​

 She notices it for the first time when she's getting ready for bed. She's gotten into the habit of moisturizing her whole body before going to sleep, the cold of Jotunheim not doing any favours for her skin. She starts with her legs as always and works her way up. She's tired after a long day in the courtroom, there's always so many people who need something, have a complaint or a demand or a long list of ideas for improvements. She thinks back to the days when she wasn't Queen, how so far away this all seemed, the royal duties only a hindrance to her time spent with Loki. She smiles to herself, amused by her naivety when she spots the wrinkles on her hands. Her veins seem a bit more prominent than usual. Huh, she wonders how she didn't notice that before. She doubles on moisturizer that night.

 Next time it happens, In-Unga is soaking in the baths. She didn't feel great for most of the day and decided to skip dinner in favour of a long bath. She's been dealing with a few more aches and pains than usual but she figures it's probably normal, given the time she spends just sitting on the throne. She makes a mental note to take more walks around the palace when she has the time. She reaches for shampoo to lather into her hair and as she starts, she notices that a lot more hair is staying on her hands than she remembers. The exhaustion is probably getting to me, she thinks and continues washing her hair, promising herself to take a day or two off. Maybe go somewhere nice and quiet with Loki, just the two of them. Yes, a break would be nice, indeed.

 She's been sent prescription glasses from Midgard. Reading and writing Royal Mail has been getting more strenuous recently and she's been horribly irritated by it. She would squint and strain her eyes trying to decipher what's on the papers until she complained to Loki about it and he has most graciously offered his help as well as a brand new pair of glasses, shipped over-realms especially for his Queen.

 She sits in bed, a book she attempted to read lies abandoned on her lap, new pair of glasses perched on top of it as she watches her husband snoring softly right next to her. He looks young, even younger when he sleeps. To be truthful he looks exactly the same as the day she married him. It's been some time but not that long, has it? There is a voice in her head that tells her she should worry, some heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. But Loki looks so beautiful sound asleep and she doesn't want to think about anything else. When she finally falls asleep she dreams about the day she fell through the convergence. Only this time Loki doesn't find her. She's alone in the cave, the cold seeping through her skin and into her bones and she fights to keep her eyes open but her eyelids are so heavy and she's tired so she lets them close. The rest of her dream is shrouded in darkness.

 They stopped celebrating her birthday a while ago. Time passes differently on Jotunheim and it wouldn't make any sense. It mostly just served as a bitter reminder of In-Unga's mortality. As she's sitting at her vanity, watching her reflection she thinks it was a rather futile attempt at tricking themselves into believing they have more time together than they actually do. There are smile lines around her mouth, crow's feet at the corners of her eyes even when she doesn't smile, the skin on her cheeks sags a bit and lacks the plumpness it used to have. The grey streaks in her hair are taking over her natural colour. She frowns at herself and the lines on her forehead don't disappear long after she'd smoothed her features.

 She's still sitting in the same place when Loki walks in, makes his way towards her and kisses the side of her face before walking over to the bed and taking off his boots. She's watching him in the mirror with a frown on her face. He must've noticed… right? She observes his reflection as he goes through his routine. When he notices her staring, there's a teasing smile on his face and she feels a stirring of affection deep inside her. She looks away quickly and goes back to observing her own face in the mirror.

 Loki walks over and stands behind her, then bends down to kiss the top of her head and watches her watching herself, with an amused expression. He opens his mouth, undoubtedly, to make some smart comment but she's faster, "I have wrinkles."

She would laugh at Loki's baffled expression but she doesn't feel like laughing at all.

"What?"

"I have wrinkles," she repeats carefully, "And grey hair, and bags under my eyes."

She looks at Loki's reflection to see his frown deepen.

"What are you talking about, darling?"

Now it's her turn to frown.

"My face. Can't you see it?"

"I can see it perfectly well, and it's certainly a sight to behold, my love."

 She turns around and searches his face for… something. Anything, really. Some sort of sign that he understands what this means. But there's nothing in his eyes aside from adoration and love and he looks at her the way he's always looked at her and she wants to cry because he doesn't realise. Is this some sort of coping mechanism or is he in denial?

 She suddenly doesn't feel like finding out. He loves her so much, there's no reason to break his heart tonight. She makes a silent promise to herself that she'll talk to him about this soon.

Soon never comes.

 She forgets so many things nowadays. She knew emissaries from Vanaheim were coming, Gjálp has been reminding her everyday for the past week but somehow she still managed to forget. She feels tired. Everyone around her is so patient with her struggle to remember things but there are times when she catches Býleistr watching her with a weird, worried sort of expression and it makes her feel uneasy. She writes notes to herself, trying to regain some of her independence but then she forgets she ever wrote notes and she's forced to rely on everyone else to remind her of her duties.

 She's more tired than she's ever been and there's an ache deep in her heart for the young woman who managed to survive against all odds. She sleeps more and doesn't join official dinners. She hasn't been to the courtroom in a while.

 She lies in bed one night, staring at the ceiling. She knows there's something she wanted to do but she can't remember… She'll ask Loki tomorrow, he always helps her remember. She thinks it's important, a vow or a promise she made to someone a while ago but she cannot recall what it was. It nags at her brain but nothing comes so she turns to Loki who's sleeping beside her and she smiles, knowing he'll help her figure it out. He always does.

 She falls asleep that night with a smile on her face and when morning comes, she doesn't wake.

fin

#just a matter of time #loki x in-unga #loki fic #maiden of asgard

[survey--s]

238.

1. When was the last time you shaved your legs? Two or three days ago, maybe?

2. What were you doing this morning at 8am? I was in bed messing about on my phone. I was still half asleep at 8am lol.

3. What were you doing 15 minutes ago? Playing Gems of War on my phone and watching The Simpsons.

4. What are you wearing? I’m really cold so I’m wearing black leggings, a dark grey vest top and a pale grey sweatshirt, but I’m also wearing slippers and a dressing gown on top, lol.

5. Are you mad at anyone right now? No, not at all.

6. The last person to say they loved you? I suspect it was probably Mike or my mum.  7. Last time you had sex? I don’t really keep track of that kind of thing.

8. Do you know the words to the song on your MySpace profile? Wow, this must be an old survey lol. I miss profile songs.

9. Last thing received in the mail? Junk mail.

10. Do you have any famous relatives? No.

11. Have you ever had sex in a public place? Yeah, several times.

12. Have you ever been searched by the cops? Just airport security if that counts, lol.

13. How is your hair? It’s fine? I just had a shower not long ago so it’s still damp from that and I just tied it up in a messy bun as I have to go back to work soon.

14. How many different drinks have you had today? Three - coffee, pepsi max and orange juice.

15. What have you eaten today? Two weetabix, some dried mango and some nachos.

16. Are you any good at math? I’m not BAD at it but I just don’t enjoy it so I never put much effort into it.

17. Do you have plans on Friday night? Nah, it’s only Saturday afternoon now though.

18. Do you draw your name in the sand when you go to the beach? Of course! :)

19. Last kiss? Yesterday.

20. Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight? Yeah, it used to happen every time we went to Australia.

21. Do you like the ocean? I love the ocean.

22. Do you stay friends with your ex's? We’re still friends on social media but that’s about it.

23. What are you excited about? Getting these jobs over with tonight and then I pretty much have two days off apart from feeding Monty and Benny.

24. What did you do last night? Fed Monty, had dinner, watched TV and lazed about at home.

25. Are any of your great-grandparents still alive? No. None of my grandparents are alive anymore either.

26. Where do you keep your change? I don’t use cash anymore so any money I get goes in the bank.

27. Do you remember the most naughty night of your life? Sure.

28. Would you rather sleep with someone else, or alone? Either is fine so long as they don’t keep me awake with their snoring.

29. What was the weather like on your birthday? It was cold and wet, as it normally is in December.

30. Would you have sex with someone on your friends list? Just my husband.

#survey #surveys

[biandlesbianliterature]

54 Bi and Lesbian Books Out in August!

[image description: an image reading “August Sapphic New Releases” with a collage of the books below. The following images are the covers of the books listed]

Can you believe more than 50 sapphic books come out this month alone? To read all of the descriptions, you can click through to the their individual listings, or check out the original Lesbrary post for all the descriptions in the same place.

Young Adult:

Six Angry Girls by Adrienne Kisner

Eight Pieces of Silva by Patrice Lawrence (YA Mystery) 

Love Frankie by Jacqueline Wilson (Middle Grade) 

YA Fantasy:

Afterlove by Tanya Byrne

Court of Lions (Mirage #2) by Somaiya Daud

The Dark Tide by Alicia Jasinska 

Ironspark by C.M. McGuire 

YA & Middle Grade Comics: 

Goldie Vance: Larceny in La La Land created by Hope Larson, written by Jackie Ball, and illustrated by Mollie Rose

Beetle and the Hollowbones by Aliza Layne

Lumberjanes Volume 15: Birthday Smarty by Shannon Watters, Kat Leyh, AnneMarie Rogers, and Maarta Laiho

Fiction:

Love in Colour by Bolu Babalola

Grey Dawn by Nyri A. Bakkalian

Summer of the Cicadas by Chelsea Catherine

All Men Want to Know by Nina Bouraoui, translated by Aneesa Abbas Higgins

The Secret of You and Me by Melissa Lenhardt

Fidelity by Marco Missiroli, translated by Alex Valente

Summer by Ali Smith

little scratch by Rebecca Watson

A Saint From Texas by Edmund White (Historical Fiction)

The Lavender House Murder (Reissue) by Nikki Baker (Mystery)

The Seduction by Joanna Briscoe (Thriller) 

Fantasy:

The Vanished Queen by Lisbeth Campbell

Snow White and Her Huntress by Emma Dean

The Tyrant Baru Cormorant (The Masquerade #3) by Seth Dickinson

Destiny’s Choice (Destiny and Darkness #3) by Karen Frost

Glorious Day by Skye Kilaen

Science Fiction:

The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson

Seven Devils by Laura Lam and Elizabeth May

Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Romance:

Hopeless Romantic by Georgia Beers

Spindrift by Anna Burke

Out on the Ice by Kelly Farmer

Hugs & Quiches by Candace Harper

Blades of Bluegrass by D. Jackson Leigh

Serenity by Jesse J. Thoma

Hopes and Dreams by Pj Trebelhorn

Everything We Never Wanted by Sienna Waters

Moon Fever by Ileandra Young (Paranormal Romance)

Comics & Manga:

Be Gay, Do Comics: Queer History, Memoir, and Satire from The Nib, edited by Mat Bors

Motor Crush, Volume 3 by Babs Tarr, Brenden Fletcher, and Cameron Stewart

I Love You So Much, I Hate You by yuni (Manga)

Bloom Into You: Regarding Saeki Sayaka, Vol. 2 by Hitoma Iruma & Nio Nakatani (Light Novel)

Nonfiction:

Tomboyland by Melissa Faliveno (Essays)

The Fixed Stars by Molly Wizenberg (Memoir)

How to Stop Homophobic and Biphobic Bullying: A Practical Whole-School Approach by Jonathan Charlesworth

Lived Experience: Reflections of LGBTQ Life by Delphine Diallo

Queerfully and Wonderfully Made: A Guide for LGBTQ+ Christian Teens by Leigh Finke

The Wanting Was a Wilderness: Cheryl Strayed’s Wild and the Art of Memoir by Alden Jones

Information Activism: A Queer History of Lesbian Media Technologies by Cait McKinney

Voices of LGBTQ+: A Conversation Starter for Understanding, Supporting, and Protecting Gay, Bi, Trans, and Queer People by Lynda Wolters

Support the Lesbrary on Patreon to get queer books in the mail throughout the year!

#queer books #lgbtq books #sapphic books #wlw books #lesbian books #new releases #2020 #long post

[harrypotterbrainworms]

The Night We Met

Summary: songfic request inspired by “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron (aka my depression personified)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N)- your name, (E/C)- eye colour

Word Count: 765

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ 

He softly recited the last words he heard (Y/N) say to him. He did this day after day, night after night until the days slowly faded into each other. The one thing that kept him sane was trying to picture his face, the last few draining months was spent trying to figure out what colour his eyes were. He couldn’t remember anymore.

“No… That’s wrong. They were brown. Nono. Blue. Fuck. Green?” He mumbled to himself as he stared at the grey walls, if he continued he may start crying. His memories felt so distant, he wasn’t sure what was night or day anymore. He just wanted to remember him, exactly how he was.

“(E/C)!” He shouted out to nobody, he closed his eyes once again. He remembered. It was enough for him, made him feel warm inside as he remembered staring into them that last night. If he knew what was to take place the next day, he would’ve stared longer, harder. He imagined (Y/N) had little wrinkles now, gorgeous thin crinkles in his eyes. He never stopped smiling, even on the darkest day. Probably lines across his forehead from worrying about him. He wished he didn’t make (Y/N) worry as much as he did.

“Haunted by the ghost of you” He whispered as he sunk to the floor of the cell, feeling the cool ground soothe his aching body.

He played his memories like a movie on repeat, watching his love sleep, running around Hogwarts, dancing to his mixtapes, laughing at his stupid jokes.

He wished he wasn’t so stupid, wished he didn’t waste his life away, didn’t look at him more. He could almost feel his hands holding (Y/N)’s cheeks again, just out of reach. Always just out of reach. He wanted to rub more circles around his knuckles, drink more beers with him, watch more movies. He thought about how many movies (Y/N) must’ve seen by now. He wondered if there was a new Stars Wars. Wondered what Freddie Mercury was up to.

“Don’t forget to buy the milk!” He could almost hear him, he wished he had bought the milk that day. So he could make that cake for his birthday, his favourite cake. (Y/N)’s cake.

He also wondered how Remus was, he wondered a lot looking at the full moon. He was glad he wasn’t alone, he would’ve hung himself in this god forsaken cell if Remus was alone out there. He hoped they looked after each other, and didn't drift apart.

“I had all of you and then most of you. Some and now none of you.” He cried out, as he now tried to remember your hair colour. It was so hard to think in here, days and weeks and months passed so slowly yet too fast to count.

He stared at the ceiling now, it felt cruel to have a small window. That was the real torture, a small window too far from reach yet he could see the night sky. Recall the constellations he memorised a long time ago, had it been years? Maybe. He wasn’t even sure.

“Would you check the mail?” He said again. He didn’t check the mail that day either, stupid selfish asshole, he thought. He should’ve listened more. Thought more.

He moved to the small iron bed, laying on it with his arms wrapped around himself. Imagined (Y/N) whispering sweet nothing into his ear. He wished he whispered more sweet nothings back.

“You look beautiful, all the time” He whispered to him softly, rubbing his knuckles as he once did. It was the one thing that kept him sane. Rubbing his knuckles like he was there.

“Take me back to the night we met” He sighed, small tears falling onto the gross mattress. He sniffed loudly, looking at the small window above him. He wondered if (Y/N) was looking at the sky too, you could probably see the moon up there. Moony healing from wounds he got a few days before, drinking tea.

“One day, my love.” He held himself comfortingly, rubbing his back. He would go back to see his face again, even if it killed him. Memorise all the new features of his face.

Of all the things he could possibly wish for, he just wished to be back in his arms. Fighting over who did the dishes or why there was no toilet paper. He also wished Peter Pettigrew was beaten to death and thrown in a pauper’s grave, but that was next on the list.

#sirius black x male reader #Sirius Black #young!sirius black #harry potter marauders #Marauders #the marauders #marauders era #one shot #sirius x reader #x y/n #male reader #gay yearning #HP #hp marauders #requests #song fanfic

[itsmccomplicated]

sign up for my grey’s anatomy character birthday mailing list. not all of them are canon but everyone has one.

#one fun fact about me is that i go hard for fictional character birthdays #no i do not care if i made them up #grey’s anatomy #meredith grey #derek shepherd #lexie grey #mark sloan #callie torres #arizona robbins #you get the gist they all have one #assorted grey’s anatomy thoughts

[ccohanlon]

in transit: excerpts from a notebook

Kansai Airport: Blind, free-floating within the warm gel of some exotic amnion, a sudden, gritty reflux obstructs a breath and I surface, choking. I claw the bedside table for an open bottle of mineral water. My lungs rasp as I try to suck in air.

I sit up on the edge of the bed and get my bearings by looking out through a sealed, double-glazed window. I never draw the curtains in hotel rooms; the view outside is often the only clue I have of where I am and, more and more these days, I wake in panic, not knowing. It is still well before dawn but darkness has given way to a grey luminescence that distorts the mile-long island of orange lights that is Kansai International Airport. Renzo Piano’s angular steel and glass terminal resembles a huge alien shipwreck in the middle of the bay. Small trains shuttle to and from it like parasitic robots, and the surrounding water  is black and unnaturally still, as if quelled by an oily spillage.

I arrived last night on a Northwest flight from Detroit, too late to catch the last train to Shin-Osaka and the bullet-train connection to Hiroshima. I tell myself I am on a business trip to give it a bit more specificity of purpose, but really it has more to do with compulsive nomadism than with commerce. I wrangle data, distilling from it information to barter with major corporations. What I do has no real job description, no locus, no regular hours and, I have to admit, no discernible outcomes other than it pays well. I could do it from anywhere.

The girl beside me doesn’t stir. Naked, lying on her stomach on top of the covers, her arms by her sides and her legs straight, her round face obscured by a tangle of long black hair, she could be a corpse awaiting autopsy. Her pale skin is as cool and smooth as antique jade. The slight epicanthic folds of her eyelids twitch but the eyes remain closed.

She is 23 years old, less than half my age, and in between flights we live together in hotel rooms and serviced apartments and the first-class lounges of major airports. Sometimes she returns to visit her mother and sister in the small house they share in Asakusa, in Tokyo, but maybe because she is so young, or she is sick of the lack of space or the burden of obligations at home, she prefers the fugitive life with me. She acts as my translator, not just of the language but of the oblique protocols that are intrinsic to every interaction with the Japanese. There is so much that I miss, or just don’t get. And not just  in Japan.

There is a slight surge in the pale blue-grey glow of my laptop’s screen as the open mail program downloads a dozen new messages. I check the list of senders. Only one of them is personal and it’s from a half-forgotten girlfriend, a film director from New Zealand: “There is something about you that has always intrigued me and also made me wary,” she writes. “I always wondered why someone who is so intelligent and sensitive to things could equally be so ruthless and without compassion. It was always a mystery to me and didn’t make sense, then I suddenly understood that you didn’t have the whole gamut of human emotion that one is usually endowed with, that you are cauterised in certain ways, that your chemistry means you bond differently.”

I decide to read the rest later. I use the hotel’s over-priced broadband to check my next flight, three days away, from Hiroshima to Tokyo, and reconfirm a flight from Tokyo to Los Angeles that will, in turn, connect with a flight to Dallas. My son’s 10th birthday is a week away and I have promised to be there to celebrate it with him, although I know already it will be another promise that I cannot keep. I sometimes have to remind myself that I have a family and that this hyper-mediated existence, in which my life is like flotsam drifting on the surface currents of interconnecting networks — multi-band cell phones, the internet, ATMs, credit cards, mail drops, courier pick-ups and deliveries, teleconferences, airport lounges and airline hubs, client LANs and extranets, regional offices, rent-a-car pick-ups, hotel chains, cable TV and pay-per-view movies that hardly change from country to country — is supposed to be a means to an end rather than an end in itself.

It is probably brought on by jet lag, but the cold tentacles of depression are constricting my brain, making it wearisome to process any thought more complex than getting out of bed. I keep telling myself that whatever it is I’m feeling is temporary, not to be trusted, just part of the rapid-cycling of the particular type of bipolar disorder I suffer. Within days, sometime hours, the fluctuating sine-wave of my labile mood will incline upwards again; right now, it is low enough to encourage me to be contemplative and not yet oppressive enough to cause me to be confused and withdrawn. I take 25 milligrams of a drug called Lamictil to counter it, on top of 2500mg of Epilim and a milligram of clonazepam a day. I feel like the medications coagulate as a sludgy residue in my system, decelerating my thinking but leaving me unassailed by the aggressive sieges or leaden shutdowns of unmanaged madness.

Even when my moods are stable, a part of my psyche still misfires with odd fixations or phobias or undefined irritations. But now I’m aware of them, I exert some control. I can act ‘normally’ rather than surrender to impulse. It’s as if connectors in my brain have found clean contact points and the jagged, itchy fuzziness of my thought processes have cleared.

The drugs have sharpened my perception of reality. But there’s a down side. Over the past weeks, I’ve begun to recognise that some of what I used to recall very clearly as personal experience is illusory, that my psyche has concocted delusional memories from random input, manic reconstructions of ideations and dreams (including other people’s) and roles I acted or compelled others to act out for me.

Which confronts me with the concept that I am not what I think I am: what I have and haven’t done, when, with whom, and where, all have to be re-examined in forensic detail to determine the true narrative.

Which is to say, reality is alien to me. Accommodating it is like trying to adapt to the atmosphere of a different planet.  Part of the reason I started a diary was to have a daily record, some way of keeping track.

Shin-Osaka: The 23-year-old perches barefoot on the edge of the “green car” seat on the Hiroshima-bound Shinkanzen, her toes curling like tiny, well-manicured, pink talons on the front of the seat cushion. She is gnawing at a rice ball.

All Japanese girls perch. Like fine-boned birds, they squat and balance on their toes while they smoke, drink takeaway coffee or suck up bowls of udon, or chat with their girlfriends who are perched alongside them like sparrows on a telephone wire. Some, alone, stare Zen-like into space or peer for hours at the small screens of their mobile phones, distractedly thumbing the keyboards. With the precise ease of professional acrobats, they teeter on the edge of street kerbs, steps, even metal railings.

There is a persistent frisson of tension between the 23-year-old and me, a cultural and generational dissonance that erupts occasionally in impatient, resentful spats that are only quelled by my silence. It doesn’t help that it’s hot, humid and it hasn’t stopped raining for days.

Japanese women are intricately neurotic, with all kinds of unpredictable fixations and prejudices sieved through the weird subordinate personas they adopt — innocent schoolgirl, servile drone, chirruping hostess, white-pantied sex fantasy — to relate with most men. I keep asking myself what I’m looking for in this young girl. Maybe it’s a form of emotional vampirism, needing young flesh and a relatively unjaded and pliable mind to stay my own self-negation.

Hiroshima: A typhoon is out in the Pacific, several hundred kilometres south of here. Ponderous, gunmetal grey clouds have piled against the steep mountains inland and the air is so dank it is hard to breathe. Cargo ships are sheltering in the lee of steep islands that litter the inland channels of the Seto Inland Sea, and oystermen are securing the timber rafts on which they farm before boarding their boats and navigating the maze of narrow passages back to the relative safety of small mainland harbours. There are still cranes pecking in the shallows of the muddy delta that intersects the city.

It’s so dark that it’s hard to imagine it is just after sunrise. We’re sitting by a window on the sixth floor of an automotive manufacturer’s headquarters, staring out across the rusted rooftops of the engine plant towards a dense cluster of suburban housing clinging to the side of a nearby hillside like a fetid blight. Below me, an empty parking lot, slick black and partly flooded, will begin filling with company cars during the next hour and then the whole building will stutter into a droning half-life of pointless busyness. We’re waiting for a herd of senior managers to turn up for a teleconference with their opposite numbers in the company’s United States subsidiary: a large monitor displays a blurry, out-of-focus image of the clock on the wall above our heads.

The earth tremor hits before they arrive. It is no more than 3.0 on the Richter scale, the television news reports later. Weak but prolonged, it begins as a low, resonating rumble and, within seconds, there is a curious, rubbery flexibility to the walls and floor. Then the furniture becomes animated. I wait for it to intensify but it gradually subsides and solidity is regained. I am a little disappointed that it wasn’t stronger.

Tokyo: The thing that surprises me most about Tokyo is the water. It’s everywhere. You come upon it in unexpected places: on freeways, where the high supporting pylons are driven into black canals that flow between the shadows of high office towers, or at the edges of new suburbs of glass and steel that float like refugees on low, flat rafts of reclaimed land. There are inexplicable, bracken inlets and backwaters enclosed by concrete dykes. And then, in the distance, there is the occasional glint of sunlight that, beneath the umber smog, reveals the infinite horizon of the sea.

The wet season has begun early, although it feels colder and less humid than a year ago. From my hotel window, the city is a ghostly silhouette beneath a pall of monsoonal rain, the grey clouds so low, they’re like shabby awnings strung between the rooftops of the nearby high-rise apartments. Everything is monochromatic, flat, except for the bobbing flow of umbrellas along the sidewalk. The city’s incessant throb is muted.

When I arrived last night, the upper floors of most of the buildings were just an eerie glow within ragged scarves of low grey cloud. The city felt like a futuristic battlefield imagined by sci-fi writer Harlan Ellison and rendered by an otaku game engineer. The 23-year-old and I checked into a suite at The Westin in Ebisu, a longed-for-relief from the shoebox dimensions of Hiroshima’s ‘business hotels’ and closet-sized bathrooms cobbled together with plastic laminate and injection mouldings.

This city is too conducive to the manic mis-wiring of my psyche. It’s too easy to be swept up in its unrelenting momentum, the raw energy of 30 million intense, tightly wrapped souls teeming through its arteries, the hyper-electric jolt of its too bright neon and plasma, office lights always burning, the visceral rumble of its streets — deeper, louder even than New York — and the heightened sensitivity to data swarming like tsetse flies in the ether around you, stirred up by millions of tiny CDMA phones. But there are times when I’m oppressed by the stifled emotions, the compressed sense of space and the contrary social protocols that combine to amplify the ever-present neurotic jitter that infects every minute of life here.

I will never really understand the Japanese, not even with the 23-year-old’s help. They are not unlike the English in some ways: both are confined to small islands and share an insular disregard for the rest of the world that is usually interpreted as xenophobia. They cling to worn-out traditions and protocols and avoid exhibitionism, while at the same time, they forebear eccentricity. They are both suppressed, uptight peoples, undemonstrative, even cold, but with a capacity for sympathy and unselfish kindness. They both have bad teeth.

Los Angeles LAX: The sub-dermal irritation I get from Americans these days flares like an allergy every time I’m in close proximity to large numbers of them: the obese mid-Western women with their bad perms and too colourful clothes, the cookie-cutter Gen-Yers with their skater T-shirts and baggy cargo pants and their dumb faux-ebonic chatter, the too tightly wrapped mid-level business executives and sales reps in Brooks Brothers knock-offs and badly fitting shirts. Between them flow the self-righteous, insular, God-fearing, thoughtless, uninformed, media-referenced monologues that pass for conversation these days: no-one listening to the other, everyone expressing themselves (because they’ve been taught that they should, no matter how dull-witted or ill-informed they might be).

West Hollywood: I’m like a spinning top at that moment before it loses speed and balance and topples on its side. Dizziness has overwhelmed rationality. I am on the net, teleconferencing over Yahoo! Messenger with my psychiatrist, 2500 kilometres away in Tulsa, Oklahoma. When I was in Tokyo, she wrote an email that instructed me to “focus on the things you can enjoy and try to capture a sense of wonderment about this strange land where you don’t always understand the spoken word but you certainly can understand things of beauty”. Now she is telling me to increase my dosages and seek help as soon as possible in Los Angeles.

I am holed up in The Standard Hotel with the 23-year-old who, like an unruly kid, has strewn her clothes among half-spilled files, notebooks, electronic organiser, mobile-phone charger, a tangled nest of computer cables and a laptop tipped on the floor. Her underwear is drying on hangers above the terrace door. Many Japanese girls suspect laundry staff of a fetishistic interest in their bras and knickers, perhaps with reason, and they insist on washing their own.

The nights are long when you don’t sleep. I have lost interest in the 23-year-old’s pseudo-innocence and elastic skin. I channel-surf the TV, clicking the remote several hundred times before my attention is arrested. I develop fleeting fascinations for golf, get-rich-quick real estate schemes, born-gain Christian sermons, rap music (especially if the video features big-assed mocha-skinned women in bikinis) and kitchen gadgets. I immerse myself in re-runs of ’60s and ’70s comedy episodes I know so well I can recite the dialogue. I watch the scrolling headlines on CNN at the top of every hour. Finally, it’s dawn and I’m released from the obligation to rest.

I wonder how long the 23-year-old will be around. Few people – and even fewer memories of them – ‘stick’ in my life. As soon as my relationship with someone or something is over, I erase it from my mind, a kind of emotional reset. I’ve erased so much from my mind that I’m confounded by how often and unexpectedly I come across blank spots, like the black, felt-tipped strokes of the censor on classified documents.

I read somewhere that the science fiction writer Philip K. Dick once argued that if two people dream the same dream, it isn’t a dream anymore — it signifies the existence of an alternative reality … The insane always occupy multiple realities: their internal narratives are always different to their actual or external experiences. For me, that can be complicated by the fact that, when I was unmedicated, which was for most of my 49 years, the character I adopted for one experience was very different to another that I adopted for a different experience somewhere else. The process was so compulsive that I would, for extended periods, devise a complex network of different characters and different lives in different parts of the world, with different relationships, then live intermittently in and between them, while blending them all into a fluid mutability that had the parallel narratives and multi-tiered options of a computer game. And the game engine was an invisible ‘real’ me, solitary, sentient and more than a little crazy.

These days, medication gives me the possibility of sustained reason, of a reliable perception of the present. But the same cannot be said of what I remember, so I am disenfranchised from my past, condemned to roam in search of a future. First published in Griffith Review, Australia, 2004.

#japan #losangeles #hotellife #technology #madness #travel #hiroshima

[readerbookclub]

One Year Later, May’s Booklist

Hurray! It’s been a year since the book club first started. Time really does fly. And why not celebrate this birthday by looking back on some of the books we’ve read together? This month’s book list is made up of novels by author’s whose works we read throughout the past year. Let’s revisit some old favourites, shall we? 

In May 2020, when the world felt like it was going to end and so many of us had more time than we could spend, this book club read its first book. Neil Gaiman’s, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, kept us occupied during that frightening time. So our first pick for this list is:

Stardust, by Neil Gaiman:

Life moves at a leisurely pace in the tiny town of Wall—named after the imposing stone barrier which separates the town from a grassy meadow. Here, young Tristran Thorn has lost his heart to the beautiful Victoria Forester and for the coveted prize of her hand, Tristran vows to retrieve a fallen star and deliver it to his beloved. It is an oath that sends him over the ancient wall and into a world that is dangerous and strange beyond imagining...

June was when many of our members first joined us (hey Ann, hey Rey, hey Lani! love ya!). Together we read The Starless Sea, a book that enchanted some, and frustrated others. Now we take a look at Morgenstern’s other novel:

The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern:

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night. But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway—a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them, this is a game in which only one can be left standing, and the circus is but the stage for a remarkable battle of imagination and will. Despite themselves, however, Celia and Marco tumble headfirst into love—a deep, magical love that makes the lights flicker and the room grow warm whenever they so much as brush hands. True love or not, the game must play out, and the fates of everyone involved, from the cast of extraordinary circus performers to the patrons, hang in the balance, suspended as precariously as the daring acrobats overhead.

In August, when many of us still couldn’t leave our houses, we read A Gentleman in Moscow and met Count Alexander, a man under house arrest. He taught us a lot about finding beauty and purpose, even when everything seems hopeless. In this list, we take another trip into the wonderful imagination of Amor Towles:

Rules of Civility, by Amor Towles:

On the last night of 1937, twenty-five-year-old Katey Kontent is in a second-rate Greenwich Village jazz bar with her boardinghouse roommate stretching three dollars as far as it will go when Tinker Grey, a handsome banker with royal blue eyes and a tempered smile, happens to sit at the neighboring table. This chance encounter and its startling consequences propel Katey on a yearlong journey from a Wall Street secretarial pool toward the upper echelons of New York society and the executive suites of Condé Nast—rarefied environs where she will have little to rely upon other than a bracing wit and her own brand of cool nerve. Wooed in turn by a shy, principled multi-millionaire, and an irrepressible Upper East Side ne'er-do-well, befriended by a single-minded widow who is ahead of her time, and challenged by an imperious mentor, Katey experiences firsthand the poise secured by wealth and station and the failed aspirations that reside just below the surface. Even as she waits for circumstances to bring Tinker back into her life, she begins to realize how our most promising choices inevitably lay the groundwork for our regrets.

In November, while I was procrastinating studying for my entrance exam, we embarked on a whirlwind journey that unfolded over twenty years. Journey Under the Midnight Sun was a story that started with one murder, then spiralled into a world of crime and deception. Now we take a lot at another one of Higashino’s novels:

The Miracles of the Namiya General Store, by Keigo Higashino:

When three delinquents hole up in an abandoned general store after their most recent robbery, to their great surprise, a letter drops through the mail slot in the store's shutter. This seemingly simple request for advice sets the trio on a journey of discovery as, over the course of a single night, they step into the role of the kindhearted former shopkeeper who devoted his waning years to offering thoughtful counsel to his correspondents. Through the lens of time, they share insight with those seeking guidance, and by morning, none of their lives will ever be the same.

In February, we read This is How You Lose the Time War, a book that led to our most lively and active discussion yet. It was then we welcomed many new voices into our book club, and we’re very happy to have them. Whether you loved the novel or just felt confused, I think we can all agree that it was something unique and different. Now, we take a look at another of Gladstone’s sci-fi books:

Empress of Forever, by Max Gladstone

A wildly successful innovator to rival Steve Jobs or Elon Musk, Vivian Liao is prone to radical thinking, quick decision-making, and reckless action. On the eve of her greatest achievement, she tries to outrun people who are trying to steal her success. In the chilly darkness of a Boston server farm, Viv sets her ultimate plan into motion. A terrifying instant later, Vivian Liao is catapulted through space and time to a far future where she confronts a destiny stranger and more deadly than she could ever imagine. The end of time is ruled by an ancient, powerful Empress who blesses or blasts entire planets with a single thought. Rebellion is literally impossible to consider--until Vivian Liao arrives. Trapped between the Pride―a ravening horde of sentient machines―and a fanatical sect of warrior monks who call themselves the Mirrorfaith, Viv must rally a strange group of allies to confront the Empress and find a way back to the world and life she left behind.

Vote Here: https://forms.gle/2cAGQtJDdDvhycMT9

Member’s List (message me to be added/removed):  @solitarystudies @adhyayana-v @gordinmegan​ @appleinducedsleep​ @morphedphase​ @bowieziggyfan​ @theeezoneee​ @wanderlustingdreamer​ @elfspectations​ @astreamoflight​ @engineeriblr​ @chemistrybaby6-022x10-23​ @pepperpaprikash​ @bubblylion​ @generalblizzarddreamer​ @ifancythetrancy​ @selescope​ @love-witch-magic​ @bluebellraven​ @arctic-mistress​ @asmolhumanwoman​ @medicineandamurder​ @belateeegfya14​ @orangesays​ @alxgnacherylle​ @guilthurts​ @earphonesandquills​

#book club #book list #booklr #stardust #neil gaiman #the night circus #erin morgenstern #rules of civility #amor towles #the miracles of the namiya general store #keigo higashino #empress of forever #max gladstone

[lydskisses]

💖 Selling 💖

Voltage Inc Samurai Love Ballad Party SLBP merch

All items are priced in Singapore dollars (SGD), mailed via tracked airmail. PayPal is accepted for international buyers. Please note that mailing to you is additional.

For USA/Europe/Canada parcels, tracked mailing will start from SGD$11.90 (250g) and non-tracked mailing will start from SGD$8.30 (250g). For all other countries, please dm me!

⚠️ Please note that there is a mix of pre-owned and new items. Their surfaces are all in pristine condition, but some older series can badges may show greying on the backs. Please dm for more info if keen :) !

⚠️ Bundling requirements are stated in each section. Please bundle from the last picture.

+ Pic 1 +

(Each Saizo bundle with 2 items. Each Masamune bundle with one item.)

Kirigakure Saizo can badge SGD$12/ea

Date Masamune can badge SGD$12/ea

Katakura Kojuro can badge SGD$11/ea

Kakizaki Kageie can badge SGD$10-11/ea

+ Pic 2 +

(Each Saizo Acrylic Stand bundle with 2 items. Each ieyasu acrylic stand bundle with one.)

Saizo Chibi Acrylic Stand SGD$13/ea

Ieyasu Chibi Acrylic Stand SGD$13/ea

Other chibi acrylic stands SGD$10-12/ea

Pirate Charms (Saizo/Kojuro) SGD$10/ea

Ieyasu Can Badge SGD$12/ea

Kojuro Shikishi SGD$13

+ Pic 3 +

(SET) Ieyasu bromide + Can Badge + Nobunaga Can Badge SGD$28

(SET) Masamune Bromide + Masamune Heart Badge + Kageie Heart Badge SGD$30

(SET) Masamune Chibi Stand + Yukimura Can Badge + Charm SGD$30

(SET) Kojuro Chibi Stand + Charm SGD$18

+ Pic 4 +

(Yukimura/Ieyasu bromide please take with one bromide or badge. Saizo take with two)

Each bromide SGD$11/ea.

+ Pic 5 +

Postcard (Yukimura/Ieyasu/Nekomimi) SGD$7.50/ea

Ieyasu Tokuten mini card SGD$6

Bromide (top row take with one from bottom row) SGD$8-10/ea

+ Pic 6 +

Ieyasu kimono Acrylic stand (take with 2 bundle items) SGD$16.50

Nobuyuki/Shingen Acrylic Stand SGD$16/ea

Saizo big acrylic Keyholder (take with 2 bundle items) SGD$24

Saizo + Yukimura mini Tokuten card SGD$14

Yukimura Big Can Badge SGD$9/ea

Yukimura big acrylic Keyholder SGD$20

Yukimura birthday bromide SGD$14

+ Pic 7 +

(SET) 2 Suit Dioramas (Oshu + Kai) SGD$140

Owari Diorama SGD$40

Oshu Diorama SGD$70

Kai Diorama SGD$80

+ Pic 8 +

(Saizo Diorama take with 2 bundle items. Ieyasu diorama take with 1 bundle item)

Diorama (Saizo/Ieyasu) SGD$22/ea

Kojuro/Saizo/Kageie Big Acrylic Stand SGD$32/ea

Ieyasu big acrylic stand SGD$36

Shingen Big Acrylic Stand SGD$28-32/ea

+ Pic 9 +

Note: badges here have significant greying on the back. Left Kojuro and yukimura has mild brown rust. Selling cheap at SGD$3 - $4.50/ea

+ Pic 10 Bundle List! +

Bundle items are assorted prices. Badges are SGD$9-11. Glitter yukimura pin is SGD$14.

Items here can be bought individually. Pm for prices if necessary.

#voltage inc #samurai love ballad party #slbp #slbp merch #slbp saizo #slbp ieyasu #slbp yukimura #slbp masamune #slbp kojuro #kirigakure saizo #date masamune #slbp shingen #slbp nobuyuki #slbp mitsuhide #slbp nobunaga #kakizaki Kageie #slbp kageie #slbp shigezane

[thefirebreathingqueen]

Tis the damn season

a folk of the air fic based on tis the damn season by taylor swift. 

Summary: after years away from her quiet hometown, Jude returns for the weekend. Someone is still there, waiting for her (Jude x Cardan) All human AU

Snow drifted lazily through the sky as her legs took her on an all too familiar path, collecting in her hair. This path was one well-traveled, Jude remembered it from ditching class with Larkin and Liliver and early morning study seshes before exams. The path had hardly changed in the years she had been gone, the quiet little town she called home hardly changing either. Small, old houses still lined every street, decorated with bright, twinkling lights. Children chased each other through the snowbanks, throwing loose powder at each other with gloved hands. Memories of her and her sisters doing the same pushed to the front of her mind, memories of a life long abandoned.

Taryn would be home, she knew, Vivi might be. Jude hadn’t been back since graduation, not for holidays or birthdays or anything. If her family needed her, they would pop over to her apartment hundreds of miles away.

And yet, she was here. After nearly five years of absence.

With a chime of the bells on the back of the door, the door swung open, Jude hastily slipping inside.  Stopping the snow of her boots, she entered the room. Coffee assaulted her nose, freshly ground and made. Inhaling deeply, a small smile pricked at her lips, shoulders dropping she fell into the comforting warmth of the small café.

Plush armchairs sat scattered around, varying shades of reds, oranges, and greens, the colours rich and inviting. Tables and chairs were mingled with them too. The glow of the lights cast everything in a bright and warm hue. Making her way to the counter, she smiled at the barista. Fand, she remembered, only a year or so younger than herself. Footsteps sounded behind her as she ordered, light as a cat and barely audible. Moving to the side to wait for her coffee, Jude turned, catching a pair of dark eyes already fixed on hers. A familiar smirk danced across the mans even more familiar mouth.

“Cardan,” She said, keeping her voice stiff and polite. He nodded at Fand as she asked something about a usual, dark hairs stirring on his head. It was longer now, styled in a way that simultaneously looked like it took seconds and hours.

“Jude,” her name rolled of his tongue smoothly. Jude’s stomach fluttered at it, at the way his lips curved around her name. Like it fit perfectly in his mouth.

Cursing herself quietly, he moved to stand next to her waiting on his own cup.

“How’s the city?” he asks, leaning closer. It was small talk, but somehow it didn’t feel like small talk.

Small talk was boring, and absolutely nothing about Cardan was boring.

Black eyes bore into mine as he waited intently on her answer. Refusing to look away, she shrugged, “It’s okay.”

After a moment, “How’s the town.”

Cardan shrugs, “It’s okay.” He mirrors her, “Empty now.”

“Empty?” she can’t stop herself from asking. Curiosity fell on her, forcing the words out far quicker than she wished.

Noticing he smiled a bit, but his eyes were still melancholy, “We seem to be missing a fiery brunette with a tendency to threaten people. Have you seen her?”

Jude’s throat tightened, “I don’t think you’d want her back.”

Looking around he muttered, “I think we would.”

The Greenbriar’s had known Jude and her family for a long time, Cardan was in her and Taryn’s grade, Rhia used to babysit us, Dain had given Jude her very first job. The Greenbriar’s had been a part of this town for as long as it’s stood.

A cup landed on the counter, nearly black steaming liquid inside. Grasping the cup, careful not to burn her fingers, she moved to an olive green armchair in the corner. Barely two minutes had passed before an extravagantly dressed man sat across form me, his own mug full of some sugary smelling, light coloured, drink.

Looking at him expectantly, as she took a sip, she waited for him to begin.

He was off, acting so much like and unlike himself at the same moments. Who he had grown to be was a mystery Jude, their last interaction at eighteen as he begged her to stay and she refused, chasing her dreams outside of the bubble they had lived in.

Seeing him now a small bubble of regret bubbled in her stomach. Jude didn’t regret leaving, didn’t regret going to university and finding her job. But for just a moment, she looked at him and imagined what it would have been if she didn’t.

“How long are you staying?” Cardan asks, eyes barely meeting hers.

“Just for three days,”

He nods, “I can work with that.”

 Cardan had walked her home, standing beside her, arms gently brushing. Warmth pooled in her chest at it, at the feeling of him next to her again. They had stayed and talked about everything and nothing for nearly an hour before she looked at the watch on her wrist. Everyone should be at home by now, and the sun would no doubt begin to fall on the horizon soon.

At the gate out front her parents place, Jude turned, pulling the lapels of her coat tighter around her body. A larger hand slipped into hers, squeezing it gently.

“I’ve missed you, Jude.” His voice was quiet.

Without room for another word, he turned and continued his way down the road.

 Knuckles hitting the door, she waited for just a moment. Nerves spiked, choking her out slowly. Dark wood pulled open in front of her, light and warmth escaping quickly. In the doorway was a tall, slender woman. Features of her face sharp and angular. Before Jude could even open her mouth arms wrapped around her.

“What are you doing here?” Viviane asked, excitement lighting her face.

“Thought I’d come for a visit, if you’d all be okay with that?” Jude tapped her boots together nervously.

With a small shake of her head, she pulled Jude inside.

“Who’s at the door?” A dark head poked out of the doorway to the kitchen, long hair in perfect curls. Taryn’s face dropped in surprise; mouth agape as she stared.

“Jude’s here.” Vivi said plainly, pulling the coat from Jude’s shoulders and hanging it by the door.

Rushing over, her body collided with her twins, hair of the same exact hue mingling in their embrace.

“Come on, Dad, Mom, and Oak are going to be so happy to see you.”

 The next time Cardan appeared was in a sleek looking black car pulling up next to her as she walked off the large breakfast she had been stuffed with. The window closest to her rolled down. Hesitantly she leaned into the open space, her nose just reaching the interior of the car.

“My darling Jude,” a broad smile fell across his mouth, “Get in.”

After a moment of debate with herself and against her best judgement. She got in.

The town had hardly changed since she left, still trapped in its own bubble. Just like the café, they talked easily, slipping back into who they were in high school. Jude’s shoulders felt lighter than they had for a long time. They drove up and down every street, and then back again, filling their time like they did when they were teenagers.

Eventually they came to a stop, climbing out into the busy streets. A small store selling handmade novelties sat quietly. It was always the best place for buying presents, and despite the fact she had purchased a gift for everyone before she came, one name had been missing on her list.

Holding the door open for her, Cardan followed her inside, moving silently through the rows of shelves. Items crowded the space, each marked with a little twine and tape price tag. Scanning the shelves, Jude searched.

“Look at this,” Cardan muttered behind her, grabbing her hand to keep her from walking any farther forward. They still fit together perfectly, calluses and soft skin in the same places, slotting like the final pieces of a puzzle. He held a small charcoal grey box. Inside was a necklace, a simple chain with only one pendant. A silver dagger, highly detailed for its size.

“It’s beautiful,” escapes her lips. After a moment, he sets it down, pulling her along the isles, not dropping her hand.

After a moment she managed to snag something while he was off looking for last minute gifts for his brothers. A small bag slung off her wrist as he met with her at the front of the store, his own bag in his hand. Silently, he slipped his hand into hers ago. And surprising herself, Jude did not let go.

The third time Jude found Cardan was at night, right after Christmas dinner. Her family has already unwrapped their gifts, muttering apologies that Jude didn’t have any to unwrap. They had already sent them in the mail.

One final gift stayed heavy in her pocket.

The Greenbriar estate was the largest in town, built and added on over two centuries, maybe even more. It was light up, brilliant lights lining the doorways and rooftops.  For a moment she paused, debating on whether approaching was a good idea. Her chest tightened, unease settling in her bones.

“Looking for someone?” a playful voice reached her ears.

Turning quickly, and very nearly slipping on the ice, she found the source of her conflict standing right behind her, leaning against a tree lining the street.

“Indeed I am.”

“May I be of any service then, my darling?”

Jude’s heart sped at the nickname. Cardan looked unphased by their teenage term of endearment however.

Pulling the small box from her pocket, she held into him.

“For me?” his dark rows raised, looking more unsettled than he had any other time this weekend.

“For you.”

Gently, he pulls the small box from my hands, popping open the lid.

“Are you proposing darling? I must admit that is one hell of a gift.”

Jude’s cheeks burned as blood rushed to them, “No I just know how you never go anywhere without them.”

Nestled on the black satin was a silver ring, one thick band. Scales were etched all around it, the head of the snake swallowing the tail.

Pulling it out, he slipped it on, fitting it perfectly on his middle finger. Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear he whispered, “Thank you, I love it.”

Throwing all her judgement and reservations aside, Jude’s palms brushed against his cheeks, pulling his face to hers.

Cardan responded quickly, entangling his fingers in her hair, grasping right at the base of her neck.

“What are we doing?” he asks between kisses, lips sliding over each other’s.

“This,” she answers, “Just for the weekend.”

The last time she saw Cardan was when her car was loaded with her suitcase and she was idling outside the driver’s door. Waiting for something she didn’t want to admit to.

She had already said her goodbyes to her family inside, hugs and tears shed from all of them with promises of visiting more often.

As he always does, Cardan rounds the corner, already walking toward her.

Jude’s heart thumps in her chest, she had done this once, she could do it again.

Standing close, voice small and steady, he asks, “There’s nothing I could say to get you to stay is there?”

Shaking her head slightly, voice thick she whispers back, “No.”

Cardan nods, looking much like the eighteen year old she had left the last time.

Soft lips meet hers, slowly. A finale.

A goodbye.

Without wasting anymore words, he steps back, giving her room to slip into the driver’s seat. Moving forward she refuses to look in the rearview mirror and the man she is leaving behind.

As she drives along the busy highway and the town shrinks behind her, Jude pretends she doesn’t feel her heart shattering in her chest.

Back home, she had unpacked her bags, throwing a load of laundry in and beginning to dust every available surface in her house. Anything to keep her busy, her mind away from the images of dark eyes, long ring covered fingers, soft pink lips.

Finally, she collapses against the couch, a thin sheen of sweat coating her body.

A knock sounds against her door. Moving quickly, she pulls it open. Her whole body stutters as she takes in the image on the other side.

Leaning against her doorframe casually, Cardan smiles, “Hey.”

A/N: so its been awhile. I’m not sure the last time i even wrote and i think this SUCKS but im trying to get back into it. The characters both seem pretty ooc to me so sorry bout that but im trying to get back into the grove of things. 

#jude duarte #jude x cardan #cardan greenbriar #high king cardan #The Folk of the Air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #tfota #tfota fanfic

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Piercings and Polaroids

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Word Count: 4,984

Warnings: Piercings, blood, needles, swearing, sexuality (eluded to)

Tag List: @moonstruckhargrove @thechickvic @carolimedanvers @hotstuffhargrove @alex--awesome--22 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @agentsinstorybrooke @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @mickmoon @buckybarneshairpullingkink @marvelismylifffe @spidey-pal

Starcourt got boring after awhile. Once the lustre of new stores and fast food restaurants died off, people stopped shopping and starting soaking up the A/C like snakes under heat lamps. You didn’t mind, it just meant that you could spend your afternoons flipping through magazines and listening to the ad-free mall radio.

“Hey bitch!” someone slapped the counter loudly and you looked up boredly from your copy of Cosmo. Heather was standing in front of you with a devilish grin, her hair damp from the pool and her signature red Ray-Bands jammed on the top of her thick brown curls, most of which were piled high on the top of her head in a messy attempt at a ponytail, half tied and falling apart.

“Hi Heather...” you signed, laying the magazine open on the counter. Heather was your best friend, although it had begun to feel more and more strained as you both got older. Heather and you were very different people. You were a band geek, a tutor, and a slave to the mall. Heather was a cheerleader, the head of the yearbook committee, and one of the infamous ‘lifeguard hotties’ of the Hawkins Community Pool. She was a popular princess; a daddy’s girl with his platinum card wrapped around her little finger. You were from a broken home with an exhausting home life, and someone who should’ve been an ignored loser. Without Heather defending you, you would be bullied to bits by girls like Carol and Tina. But with her, you felt like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

She leaned her elbows on the counter, smiling giddily “So, how’s your summer of piercing baby ears going?” she asked with a devious giggle, her sunglasses falling onto her nose and her mouth curling into a devilish grin.

You rolled your eyes “I’ve only seen one baby get pierced, I mostly pierce like middle schoolers. Today, I gave Mrs. Blythe her second hole. She bought three packs of neon studs and said they were for her daughter. Trying to look younger or some shit.” You replied, popping a strip of bright pink bubblegum into your sticky pink mouth, your cheap drugstore lipstick gunking in the corners of your lips. It was obvious that Heather had stopped listening after the first sentence, her mouth open in a yawn.

“Boring! You haven’t done anything cool all day? You know what me and Jeff did?” she asked, bouncing on her heels. She leaned over the counter, cupping a hand over her mouth as she leant in to your ear “We did it in the locker room showers. And Jessica Abrams totally walked in on us and freaked out! She totally got all red and teary it was totally embarrassing!” she whispered.

You pulled away, your face turned up in disgust. “That’s disgusting!” you gagged, squeezing your eyes shut as the image of Jeff’s douchey smirk came into view, turning into an ‘O’ face that made you want to hurl.

Heather cackled “He wasn’t even that good! I have no idea why Jessica’s been going on about it!” she cried, slapping the counter with her bare hand.

“Maybe because they were like two seconds away from being a couple and you got in the way.” You replied, deadpan. Sometimes Heather was a real bitch. This was one of those times. Poor Jessica had been following around that jerk since April and just when she’s about to get over him, he decides to pay her the time of day. And just when he seemed to genuinely like, Heather had to get bored and took Jeff away. Poor Jessica didn’t even know what hit her.

Heather scoffed, rolling her eyes at your comment. “That’s not the most interesting part of my shift though! I brought you a live one!” she giggled. You felt your blood run cold. Heather had no concept of what was appropriate ever. She had almost gotten you fired twice. This was not a good thing.

Heather waved someone over as you stared on wide eyed. Before you could even tell Heather to stop whatever she was trying to do, Billy Hargrove was standing in front of you, visibly put off by the children running around the shop and the bright, colourful decor. His eyes scanned yours boredly, his eyes narrowing judgementally.

“Alright, it’s piercing time!” Heather cried, clapping excitedly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes “Alright, the piercing package costs thirty bucks. You pick your piercing from the case.” You pointed down into the glass case below you, lit up and filled with silver butterflies, flowers, stars, and other girly designs. “You just want the other ear, right?”

Billy’s eyes scanned the case, his eyes narrowing further, his upper lip curling up in disgust. “Nah, my nose.” He replied, his voice monotone.

“Yeah, you can’t do that here.” You said, matching his tone. Billy looked quickly, his eyes blowing out in annoyance, looking between you and Heather.

Heather’s expression shifted and she laughed awkwardly “Of course you can!” she leaned over to you once Billy’s was sated enough to return to the difficult choice between the only ball studs in the case, one silver and one gold. “Don’t be fucking lame, Y/N…” she whispered harshly.

“I’m not being lame, it’s literally not something I can do.” You pulled the heavy, clunky piercing gun out from its drawer “This thing is literally only meant for ear lobes. It’s all I can pierce. Anything else I try will get super fucked up.” You explained, flashing the grey and white gun to the pair. It looked like a glorified hot glue gun, except splattered with a bit of dried blood.

Billy turned his attention to Heather, obviously annoyed “You said she could do it. I bought a nose ring in Carmel cause she could do it.” He grunted, obviously annoyed.

Heather looked over at you with her giant, pleading eyes, and for a brief moment you felt bad. Heather was just trying to look cool to this cooler, more popular guy and it had fallen flat so fast. You owed her something, for all the things she’d done for you over the years. With the barest of restrained sigh, you spoke up “Look, I can’t pierce your nose here, but I can do it at my place.” You said.

Billy scowled “Yeah? You got any proof?” he asked. He was getting more annoyed by the second; his expression growing harder and angrier if that was even possible.

You raised an eyebrow, tapping the small silver ring in your left nostril “Did this myself. Did all my piercings myself. How do think I got this job?” you countered. In truth, you’d done a mail in course and passed a piercing test on a rubber practise head. You were licensed in a week by Claire’s. You couldn’t even transfer the license to any other brand; they made it very clear in the paperwork you filled out.

Billy nodded, looking over your work. You guessed that it was satisfactory enough to him because a small smirk pulled at his lips. “What time you finished up here?” he asked. Heather cheered loudly, grabbing Billy’s bicep excitedly.

“I got like fifteen minutes left. Heather knows my address if you just wanna leave with her. I’ll meet you there.” You replied, looking over to your manager, who nodded for you to start your closing out.

“No way! You took the bus here, we’ll wait.” Heather said quickly “We’ll meet you in the food court.” She pulled Billy out of the shop with a wide grin, waving to you and mouthing ‘so hot!’ when he wasn’t looking. You chuckled, shaking your head. Heather thought every guy was hot, it didn’t mean much. But you wouldn’t deny that Billy was hot. Even with his cocky attitude and that ugly tattoo on his bicep that he insisted on showing off. You swore he’d cut all the sleeves off his tee shirts just to show off that stupid skull smoking a cigarette. Who the hell wanted that on their body forever?!? You weren’t too attracted to that level of ego, but Billy held a bit of interest around himself. There was some mystery, an aura of intrigue he seemed to hold around himself effortlessly, and that kept you interested enough to pay attention when you heard his name. He was just closed off enough to keep everyone guessing about him.

You took your time with your duties, making sure to snatch up the small silver ‘H’ earrings Heather had been eyeing for weeks now. They were in the case, so you were only supposed to be able to get them if you were getting a piercing in house. You’d convinced your boss to sell them to you, since you were an employee and wouldn’t tell anyone about it, and she agreed. You had intended to give them to Heather on her birthday, but there was no time like the present.

You half hoped that Heather and Billy would forget about you. You had this sickening feeling that it would be a tiresome ride. But to your chagrin they were waiting for you in the food court. Heather had gotten herself an Orange Julius and seemed to have put all her attention into the straw in her mouth, you assumed she was trying to put on a bit of a show for Billy, but he wasn’t paying much attention to her. You joined the group and endured quite possibly the longest and worst car ride of your life. Heather took over the front seat; it seemed that Billy had driven her to the mall, seeing as how her stinky work stuff was shoved in the back seat with Billy’s and, unfortunately, you. The entire back seat stunk like chlorine and mould, you guessed that one of them had forgotten a towel or swimsuit in their bag or under the seat for long enough to let it stink up the car. But that wasn’t the worst part, Billy didn’t seem to have A/C so all the windows were popped open and fresh air was blasting in your face and killing the smell, the worst part was that Heather seemed to think that this car ride was the perfect time to shamelessly flirt with Billy. She tried to pull her feet on the seat, but Billy didn’t want shoes on the leather, so she took off her flip flops but that was worse apparently. So she spent the whole time cooing about how hot he was and touching his arms and neck and hair. Touching his hair almost got her hand bit off. You wanted desperately for her to stop, you tried to tell her to cool it, but she told you to shut up. You didn’t bother after that.

But Billy seemed to notice that. He kept looking at you through the rear view, at first you thought he was just checking behind himself as he drove, but he was doing it too often for it to make sense. Then you finally let him catch your eye and he smiled. Well, it was more of a lopsided smirk, but you took it as a compliment. He hadn’t even attempted to smile the whole time he was around you, but now, with Motley Crüe blasting through the speakers and the wind whipping up everyone’s hair, he was apparently happy to have you around. You took it as a sign of gratitude for at least trying to get Heather to calm her hormones and just smiled back.

You directed Billy to your place, well at least you attempted to. Heather took over easily, drowning you out. “Y/N’s place is right over there-oh! Is your mom home? She’s gonna get pissed if you have a boy in your room; remember what happened when she caught Carl Simpson in your room? God, I can’t believe you lived through that!” she cackled loudly, her intent most definitely to make you blush. You simply rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, no she’s working late. She’s always working late.” You said, trying to hide the annoyed bite to your voice, masking it with a laugh. Heather just continued to cackle loudly, which hid your defeated sigh. Billy parked on the street without you having to ask and he climbed out angrily. You rushed to get ahead of the group, keys jingling in your hand, and unlocked the door.

“If you don’t mind, can you take your shoes off?” you asked as a wave of A/C smacked you in the face. You kicked off your sneakers as Heather and Billy stared at you, dumbfounded.

“Ugh, come on Y/N! That’s weird!” Heather moaned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Heather. You know if I get shoe prints all over the tile, my mom will get pissed. You never have a problem with it when we’re hanging out, so don’t be a weirdo now.” You replied. Billy simply kicked off his own shoes, leaving Heather to groan loudly but to follow suit. Then and only then did you let them trek through your house and into your bedroom. You lived in a bungalow, so your room was at the back of the house, facing your backyard.

“Alright, you want your nose, yeah?” you asked, popping open your front door and heading to your bookshelf. You dug through your worn paperbacks until your fingers hit the firm spine of Catch 22. You pulled it off the shelf, popping open the cover and revealing the carved out middle. Your mother was the type to rifle through your stuff to try to catch you doing something wrong. You made the hiding spot solely to keep things that she’d take away. Inside, you had some spare cash, for emergencies, your hollow needle, and the silver barbells you’d bought to use when you pierced your nipples, which you’d been meaning to get around to. You’d promised your mother that you’d stop piercing people. She’d found the bloody needle and freaked out. Usually, it wasn’t that much of a blood bath, but you’d pierced Samantha Burke’s upper cartilage that day and underestimated both how much it would hurt her and how much of a mess it would make. You swore up and down that you’d stop, but your wannabe cool classmates paid big bucks for you to pierce their ears. There’d been an insane influx of boys wanting their ears pierced after seeing how popular Billy was. You didn’t correct them when they wanted the left ear, especially if they were dicks, and you took the cash happily. What your mother didn’t know didn’t hurt her.

“Yeah.” Billy said stiffly. He stood in the middle of your room, unsure what to do with yourself. You only lived a street down from him, too close to his father for comfort. His father already didn’t like the earring, doing his nose could get him in even deeper shit. He was willing to risk it though, purely to look cool.

“Which nostril, left or right?” you asked, bending down to reach into the lowest drawer of your desk, pulling out a lighter and, flicking open the flame, running it over the needle to sanitize it.

Billy chucked “Neither, I want the bull ring.” He said proudly, puffing out his chest. You looked up from the flame, looking him over for any signs of bluff. He looked too serious about this.

You nodded “Alright, I’ve never done a septum ring, but I’ve done the cartilage before, shouldn’t be any different.” You replied with a shrug “You got a big enough nose ring on you? Or am I cleaning and selling you one of mine?”

Billy reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a silver ring. It looked like it was actually made for a nose, which was a good sign. You’d pierced enough idiots to know that people think that any old earring would work in their nose or eyebrow or lip.

Heather was completely agog “No way, Bill! You can’t do your nose like that! I hate that!” she cried. Both you and Billy looked over at him, bouncing on your twin bed angrily. You raised an eyebrow at Billy, who seemed to understand the look immediately: ‘are you two dating?’ He shook his head.

You closed your eyes, trying not to strangle your friend. She always seemed to think that the world and people’s choices revolved around her. Instead of freaking out, you simply nodded “Heather, you want your second hole today? We can do it really fast before Billy’s nose.” You said.

“Oh duh! But I didn’t bring my earrings and I’m not paying for a set of yours, so unless you’re coughing up a pair for free, I’ll wait.” She replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

You flicked the lighter closed, placing the needle on your desk and pushing yourself onto your feet, reaching into your purse. You pulled out the earrings, tossing them to your friend. “Here, happy birthday.” You smirked. Heather caught them and squealed loudly, clutching them to her chest and kicking out her legs.

“Thank you!” she cried, reaching out to grab your neck and hug you tight. You chuckled, patting her back awkwardly.

“Okay! We’ll do yours first, go grab like a full tray of ice from downstairs, okay? And a roll of paper towel.” You instructed. Heather jumped to her feet, rushing downstairs as fast as she could. You resumed what you were doing, grabbing your lighter to disinfect the needle one more time.

“You wanna see what those things look like when they get ripped out?” you asked, turning your attention to Billy, who had taken to looking through your shelves boredly.

“What things?” he asked, his tone annoyed and deeply tired.

“The bull rings.” You replied. Billy hummed and you took that as the go ahead to grab the picture from your copy of Catch 22, pulling the Polaroid from underneath the cash. You handed it to Billy wordlessly.

The image was gruesome. It was of a guy, a few years older than Billy and you, with a bright red mohawk and dressed in a suit. He stood next to who Billy could only assume was the dude’s bride in an ugly reception hall. But that wasn’t the gruesome part; the part that made Billy’s stomach turn was the guy’s nose. It was mangled beyond belief, shrunken and crumpled. The guy only had one full nostril, the left one turned into a short of half open hole, a bunch of cartilage gone and gaping. It was quite honestly gross.

Billy cringed as he examined the guy. You took the moment to explain. “That’s cousin and her husband, Ben. Total punk rockers. Like three months before the wedding, I went with them to a Pixies concert and we all went to the mosh pit together. I guess I looked at this girl’s boyfriend or maybe I looked at her wrong because she tried to pick a fight with me. Ben stepped in, and before he could even say anything to her, she reached up and yanked out his nose ring. It tore the cartilage and he had to have his whole nose reconstructed. He couldn’t afford to have the nostril reconstructive surgery on top of the general nose reconstruction to save his one solid nostril and the bridge from collapsing.” You said.

Billy looked up, trying to bring his expression back to a neutral one “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, handing you back the picture.

You sighed “Look, everyone in the town knows that you get into fights. Having a big ole ring in the middle of your nose is just a really good place to grab for someone who wants an easy win on a fight.”

Billy scoffed “Only girls grab at shit to make a fight easier.”

You shrugged “Maybe, but I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t try to not get their ass beat by a guy twice their size.” You replied, popping the picture back into your kit.

Billy sighed “Would you do the left or right side then?” he asked.

You smirked slightly, looking him over. You bought your hands to his hands, which made Billy gasp slightly with his mouth shut. You ignore it, turning his face to the left and right, examining each side. The right side was better.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t do either. It’s not your look.” You said, letting his face go. He was very pretty up close, which gave you all the more reason to pull away before you did something stupid.

“Well I want something!” he cried and you laughed. Billy smirked as your face broke into a grin. It was the first genuine smile you’d had all day and it was quite pretty. He thought you were prettier than Heather, although he wouldn’t admit that if he still wanted the blow job Heather had been eluding to wanting to give all day.

“I can pierce your other ear, or give you a second hole on your right ear.” You said. Billy cringed and shook his head at both options. You thought for a second before a daring idea came into your head. You hesitated to give it, purely because you’d spent money on it for yourself, but you felt bad for making him give up on the idea.

“How about your nipples?” you said. Billy’s mouth fell open slightly, but he swallowed slightly, closing it. He’d never thought about piercing his nipples, but he immediately liked the idea.

“You ever pierce a nipple?” he asked, leaning closer to you. He was really hoping you’d say yes. He could feel himself warming up just at the thought of a great pair of tits with silver barbells glinting in the sunlight.

“No, but I had planned to-if you’re worried about me fucking up, I can do one of mine first.” You said, pulling the silver barbells of his dreams out of the book and flashing them to him with a smile.

“Oh no sweetheart...I trust you. But you gotta let me do yours if you want them done.” He replied.

“You do piercings?” you asked sceptically, placing the barbells on your desk.

“Doesn’t seem too hard.” He replied, inching closer to you. You back into your desk, exactly where he wanted you.

You chuckled, pressing a hand into his chest, and pushing him off you. “Yeah, the only amateur I get pierced by is myself, that way if I fuck up I have no one to blame but myself.” You explained. Heather burst in right on cue, ice melting down her hand and a damp paper towel roll in hand.

“Sorry! Took awhile to find the paper towel.” She announced, plopping the roll on your desk and tray next to it.

“It’s cool, you ready to do this?” you asked her. She furrowed her brow nervously, but you gestured to your desk chair. She sat down and gripped the arms to ease her shaking hands. You grabbed a cube from the tray and pressed it to her left lobe. “Alright, hold that there for a second sweetheart, I gotta unpack your earrings.” You reached for the package and pulled off the tape that secured the backings to the earrings. You pulled the cheap backing off the spoke and released the ‘H’ from the teal plastic hanger and placed it flat on the desktop.

“Nice and numb?” you asked. Heather bit down hard on her lip and nodded. You grabbed a black sharpie and marked her lobe. “Alright we’re going to count to three, take a deep breath with me, okay?” you took in a deep breath and Heather followed, shutting her eyes. You grabbed the needle and placed it against the marking.

“Let the breath go.” You huffed the breath out and when Heather did the same you plunged the needle into her lobe. She squealed but you counted loudly over it “One, two,” you grabbed the earring, placing it into the hole in the needle and pulling it through “Three. There, you’re halfway done.” You said, capped the earring and wiping down the needle with a bit of paper towel. Earlobes don’t generally bleed much and your needle came through practically clean, but you wiped it down anyway, if only to calm her nerves.

“Are you okay for me to do one more?” you asked. Heather nodded and you grabbed another cube from the tray, pressing it to the right lobe. The process repeated again and Billy watched on baited breath. At first, he was only interested in staring at your ass and imagining filthy things at the idea of you hovering over Heather and making her bite her lips for other reasons. But Heather wasn’t the interesting part of this image; it was you with your kind words and gentle but firm touches. Even when he got bored of the fantasy, he still watched you, utterly transfixed by you. Heather’s squeal pulled him out of his fantasy and back into the warm light of your bedroom. You capped the back of the second earring, stepping back to admire your work.

“Do they look alright?” Heather reached up to touch the new pierces, as if they weren’t real. As if she didn’t feel them stab through her head.

“They’re completely crooked.” You said, deadpan. Heather gasped loudly and you backtracked quickly “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! They look great!” Heather smacked you hard in the stomach, forcing herself out of the chair and over to your bed.

“We doing this, Hargrove?” you turned to him, looking him over confidently. He nodded, licking his lips. “Alright, lay down, Heather I’m gonna need you to move.” Billy tore off his shirt and Heather’s mouth dropped open as you ran the flame over the needle again.

“Oh my god what is going on?” Heather asked, practically drooling.

You rolled your ice “Heather, move your ass and grab me some ice. Billy, which side we doing here?” you asked, grabbing the package of silver barbells and ripping it open, pulling out one and bringing it over to the bed.

“Right.” He said confidently and you took the ice from Heather, straddling Billy and pressing the ice to his nipple. Billy shivered under you and you smirked.

“Heather, pass me the sharpie.” You said, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“This is insane...” Heather breathed, passing you the black marker. “Where’s your camera?”

“Nightstand drawer.” You replied, uncapping the marker with your teeth. Billy turned sharply to look for Heather, his face turning into a snarl. You leaned down, grabbing his chin and turning him back to you. His mouth fell open slightly as you leaned into his ear, whispering “Relax, you look hot...” you breathed hot air onto his neck as you spoke and his skin broke into goose bumps.

“You numb?” you asked. Billy nodded, even though he didn’t think his senses could be less numb if he tried, all of his nerves were alert and on edge. “Good...” you muttered, marking the spot for your needle and unscrewed one end of the barbell. You heard a click and saw the flash go off in the corner of your eye, but you ignored it, focusing on the warm skin under your hands.

You looked him over with a smirk “You need a countdown or are you gonna be a big man for me?” you asked, another flash trying to spot your vision. Billy swallowed hard and let out a small yelp, nodding confidently despite the sound coming out of his throat. “Good boy...” you whispered, shoving the needle through the hardened pink flesh. You felt every inch of him tense up as the pain shot through the bundle of nerves you’d just stabbed through. You mistook the final flash of the camera for stars as you felt him stiffen under your ass. You slid the barbell into the hollow end and slid the needle through, screwing the ball back on.

You smiled, admiring your work for climbing off him and dropping the needle on the mattress. “Alright, use rubbing alcohol to clean those at least once a day. I am not responsible for any infections you get because you can’t take care of yourself.” You explained, pulling your white tee shirt back over your hips. Billy sat up slowly, drinking you in like a cool glass of water, his mouth turning up as you turned around, packing up your kit and returning it to your hiding places.

“My mom’s gonna be home soon and I really wanna change. You good to take Heather home?” you turned your attention to Billy and he nodded slowly.

Heather got up, pulling you into a tight hug and sliding something into your back pocket. “Call me later?” she asked. You nodded, shoving your hands into your back pockets once she let go. Thick and glossy, they had to be the photos. You smirked; you’d look those over once she was gone. Heather headed out of the room as Billy examined himself in your full length mirror before tossing his shirt over his shoulder.

“You alright?” you asked, coming up behind him in the mirror.

“Just admiring your handiwork,” he replied, cocking his head to look at you “You think I can come back and get the other one done?” he asked.

“Sure...” you replied, looking him over slowly “Maybe you leave Heather behind next time.” Billy chuckled darkly, nodding slowly as his tongue slipped out of his mouth again.

“Alright then...I’ll see you around.” You said. You wanted to look over your pictures before you made any plans. You had to know if it looked as hot as it felt. But you had a feeling that it was more than you could ever imagine, no matter how hard you had tried in the past.

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy x reader #billy x y #billy x y/n #billy x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove hc #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove aus #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanon #stranger things au

[femmefangirl]

I posted 1,923 times in 2021

123 posts created (6%)

1800 posts reblogged (94%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 14.6 posts.

I added 61 tags in 2021

#youtube - 20 posts

#lol mood - 11 posts

#uquiz - 6 posts

#no - 5 posts

#well - 4 posts

#maybe the rodrick and greg dynamic is me and my sister - 3 posts

#writing - 3 posts

#thramsay - 3 posts

#cass got mail - 3 posts

#aleksander morozova - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 84 characters

#me who hasn't read the bible and know about christianity from tumblr and pop culture

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Welcome to my Blog

-I am a minor

-I love to read

-I am working on a novel

-I write fanfiction

-I am Indian

-My favorite color is currently either black, grey or brown.

-I speak English

_I am pansexual

-I am genderfluid

-I move around a lot

-I live in Cuba currently

-I want to go to Stanford University

-I want to study psychology, law, English literature and maybe history

-I was born in March 20

My fandoms are

A Song of Ice and Fire/ Game of Thrones

The Umbrella Academy

Ever After High

The Grishaverse

Harry Potter

Percy Jackson

Marvel Cinematic Universe

The Witcher (Netflix)

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Rapunzel's Tangled Adventures

Disney

Pixar

Descendants

Monster High

Keeper of the Lost Cities

The Folk of the Air

Stranger Things

Merlin BBC

Sherlock BBC

Red Queen

Brooklyn 99

Hamilton

Six: The Musical

Kingsman

IT

Lucifer

Good Omens

My Comfort Characters

-Five Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

- Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

-Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson)

-Alex Fierro (Magnus Chase)

-Carter Kane (Kane Chronicles)

-Lester Papadopoulos (Trials of Apollo)

-The Darkling (Grishaverse)

-Genya Safin (Grishaverse)

-Kaz Brekker (Grishverse)

-Inej Ghafa (Grishverse)

-Theon Greyjoy (ASOIAF/GOT)

-Jon Snow (ASOIAF/GOT)

-Jeyne Poole (ASOIAF/GOT)

-Loki Odinson (MCU)

-Tony Stark (MCU)

-Bucky Barnes (MCU)

-Pepper Potts (MCU)

-Regulus Black (Harry Potter)

-Sirius Black (Harry Potter)

-Peter Pettigrew (Harry Potter)

-Lily Evans (Harry Potter)

-Jaskier (The Witcher)

-Varian (Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure)

-Crowley(Good Omens)

-Lucifer(Lucifer)

-Ella Lopez(Lucifer)

My OTP in each Fandom

THRAMSAY

KLAVE

APPLE/DARLING

DARKOLAI

WOLFSTAR

SOLANGELO

LOGYN

GERASKIER

MAIKO

EUGENE/RAPUNZEL

TIANA/NAVEEN

WALL-E/EVE

HARRY/UMA/GIL

CLEO/DEUCE

SOKEEFE

JUARDEN

MILEVEN

MERTHUR

JOHN/MARY

THOMAVEN

KEVIN/HOLT

LAMS

HENRY/TORTURE

GARY/TILDE

REDDIE

DECKERSTAR

INEFFABLE HUSBANDS

Current Favorite Song: Prom Queen

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0x03NDSGOTA&list=RD3L6nF73xjnM&index=6

10 notes • Posted 2021-10-11 00:07:24 GMT

#4

Peggy Carter is a fucking bicon!

12 notes • Posted 2021-11-12 23:20:29 GMT

#3

To make you sad, here is a sad short fic.

Sirius was supposed to be getting drunk with James, Remus and Peter.

He was supposed to use his hands to get a piece of cake, purely just to annoy Peter.

He was supposed to have tea with Andy and her daughter.

He was supposed to have fun and be 21.

Instead he was rotting in Azkaban, singing Happy Birthday to himself. Not that he deserved to do anything he was supposed to, he killed his best mates. He killed James and Lily. If only he let them make him secret keeper, maybe they would still be alive.

Maybe.

Or maybe Sirius would betray them, he already betrayed one brother, what's another brother to betray.

Sirius was innocent of the muggle killing, he didn't rat out Lily and James, but he as good as killed them.

Happy Birthday Sirius!

13 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 14:34:23 GMT

#2

28 notes • Posted 2021-10-16 00:58:23 GMT

#1

Rant(Grishaverse)

Leigh Bardrugo is a horrible piece of shit, the Grishaverse makes no sense when you think of the place and time it is based on. I am younger than her and I know more about Russian names than her. She made Aleksander part of a minority, she made him also the antagonist, are his ways a little extreme, sorta, but is he in the wrong, no. He is the antagonist but he shouldn't be. The Grishaverse makes zero sense. Why would any grisha follow Alina, they should follow Aleksander. THEIR LEADER. He made a save space for grisha. A bit of context for you people who have no idea what the Grishaverse is: people who can do magic(they call it small science) are called grisha, they are a minority, in Fjerda they are burned as witches, in Shu Han they are experimented on, in Kerch they are sold into slavery, in other places they are treated just as badly, in Ravka Aleksander made the Little Palace for grisha as children, their parents do not stay with them. Aleksander can control shadows, Alina our protagonist is boring and is the sun summoner. Alina and Aleksander have chemistry but Ms. Bardrugo would pair Alina up with her toxic childhood friend Malyen Oretsov. Aleksander created the shadow fold which is great for Ravka but it also split Ravka in two, he plans on expanding the fold with Alina's help as the Sun Summoner(which has never been heard of) but Alina doesn't want to be Grisha she wants to be normal(no Grisha should follow her). Leigh has committed culture appropriation. She has made Sasha(Aleksander) the villain but he just wants what is best for the Grisha and wants them to live lives. It seems Ms. Bardrugo has never met a minority in her life, she is white, cis and straight. No minority would want to be oppressed any longer. I am a poc, genderqueer, and pansexual. I would gladly follow someone who would help me be treated as an equal to a white, cis, straight man. As society wants everyone to be white cis het males.

EDIT: It has come to my attention that Ms. Bardrugo is Jewish and based the grisha prosecution on Jewish prosecution. This makes it much worse. Why Ms. Bardrugo, why?

29 notes • Posted 2021-10-03 17:05:11 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #me who hasn't read the bible and know about christianity from tumblr and pop culture