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jihyoruri · 9 months

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LUCID DREAM— idol! yu jimin x idol!reader

warnings: 5th member reader, same yn and jimin from back to you, it doesn’t matter which one you read first

“no, no, no I can’t stop love.” yn’s soft but powerful voice sang into the mic, the eyes of the producer and her leader burn into her and repeats her lines of the song.

it made her uncomfortable and slightly nervous, it’s not like she hasn’t recorded songs that she’s written before, she does it all the time for demos, it’s the very reason that this time she’s singing a highly personal song, a song that was never supposed to be for the public, a song that was just supposed to be for her and her mind.

she curses aeri for convincing her into showing it to the production team, now she has the person singing the song that she wrote about them on a song with her and the rest of her members.

“you sound tense.” the producer says to her through the clear booth, yn laughs awkwardly at the comment, of course she’s tense, “that’s because I am.” yn blurts out, she curses at herself when both her leader and producer raise their brows at her honesty, she has to do something about her filter.

“this is your song yn.” the producer says leaning back in their seat, “and it’s your lyrics yn, loosen up.”

yn opens her mouth to respond but gets cut off by the girl seating in the seat behind the producer, “I think she should let some vulnerability into her voice, since it’s such vulnerable lyrics.” jimin says, she’s talking to the producer but has her eyes on yn, “the song seems to be a product of her fragile feelings, so I think letting some vulnerability into her voice would make her sound better, it always does.”

yn furrows her eyebrows at the last part, the groups producer doesn’t seem to pick up on jimin’s slick comments and nods their head in agreement at jimin’s statement, “I agree, yn let some of the thoughts that you had in your mind when you wrote this into your mind and keep it there.”

the only thing that runs through yn’s mind is why would she do that? why would she let all those thoughts into her mind?.

the only thoughts that ran through her mind that night when she wrote the song was, insecurity, hate and desperation, yn nods her head anyways because when she takes one look at her leader, she doesn’t even need to go back to that night, the thoughts are already in her mind.

“neon jakku jiteun eodum soge deo gipi.” she sings into the mic, letting all her thoughts of jimin and hers relationship, she closes her eyes as she sings not wanting to even take a glance at her leader, “no, no, no, I can't stop love.”

she opens her eyes and hears a cheer from the producer, “that sounded so good yn.” they say giving her a clap, “so much better, jimin was completely right.”

yn shifts her gaze to the girl that only smiles bitterly at her, “leader knows best I guess.” yn says, letting out another awkward laugh.

“well, that’s a wrap for today.” they say looking at the time on their phone, “it’s after midnight you two need to get home.”

the feeling of relief fills yn, as she takes off the headphones and walks out the booth, she bids goodbye to the producer before grabbing her tote bag and walking out the room, leaving jimin.

she feels the older girl walking close behind her, “yn wait up.” she doesn’t want to, but she does anyway.

yn tenses when she feels jimin’s arm wrap around her shoulders, she hates that she feels some sense of comfort with it around her.

“oh, so you’re not in one of your moods anymore?” yn asks lazily, peering up at her leader, jimin is like a switch when it comes to her and yn, sometimes she’s on sometimes she’s off, it’s so hard to understand her.

“shut up.” jimin mutters as she pulls yn closer to her, the two girls walk out of the building and head over to the black van that waits for them.

both girls get into the back as the greet the driver, jimin picks up the blanket that’s on her seat and throws it over her and yn’s legs.

this is why yn can never get out of this relationship no matter how hard she tries to, the moments like these are the highlights of her day, the moments when jimin is her jimin, the soft jimin and caring jimin.

but that never lasts long.

as yn’s focus is mainly on her phone she gets startled out of her phone by jimin’s head leaning on her shoulder.

she goes still for a couple of seconds, before turning off her phone, knowing if jimin saw who she was texting it wouldn’t end well.

yn stares into space trying her best to ignore the multiple buzz’s that come from her phone, she leans her head back when she feels jimin shift, “are you gonna answer it? the buzzing is getting annoying.”

“nah, it’s okay.” yn says trying her best to sound nonchalant but it comes out sounding very awkward, “just ignore it.”

“who are you talking to anyway?”

“no one important.”

yn wants to cry when she feels jimin reaching over for her phone, she side eyes the older girl awkwardly, she knows if she jumps for her phone it would make her even more suspicious.

“ryujin.” jimin hums before looking back up at yn, “I thought I said to stop talking to her?” she says with a strangely calm tone.

“yeah…” yn drags out scratching the back of her neck, looking outside the car window, “it’s just she’s a close friend of mine I’d feel bad if I just dropped her like that.”

“a friend that caused you to get into a scandal.” jimin says passing yn’s phone back to her, “that almost ruined our groups image you know? you’re lucky your stans know how much of a loser you are that you’d never get caught dead kissing someone outside of jyp building.”

yn let out a nervous laugh at the last comment, she’s happy that her fans came to defence, even if they were wrong , “I know jimin but-”

“do you wanna ruin our groups image?” jimin asks sternly cutting her off,her eyes burn into yn’s.

yn looks down defeated, she hates when jimin does that, making things seem like they’re her fault, “no… I don’t.”

“you’re right I’m sorry.”

jimin then smiles, completely satisfied at yn’s surrender, she then grabs yn’s hand and squeezes it, “good, I’m just telling you what’s best for you, that girl is bad news.”

yn just looks down at her lap nodding but jimin grabs her chin and turns yn’s head towards her, “I care about you a lot yn, you know that right?”

“yeah I know.” yn responds quietly, it doesn’t feel like it though, she says in her mind.

“good.” jimin then goes back to her position, putting her head on yn’s shoulder, “now that, that’s all settled, do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” jimin asks, “I’m not coming in yours, who knows what I’ll find, it always smells like marijuana in there.”

yn laughs softly at the last comment, “yeah, you’d probably have a heart attack if you came in my room, so yes I’ll expect your offer.”

“make sure bring your weighted blanket.” jimin says as she plays with yn’s chunky rings on her ringers.

“the one with the heat or the other one?”

“the one with the heat obviously.” she says looking up at yn’s face, smiling she brings her head up and places a kiss on yn’s cheek, “you’re so cute.”

“shut up.”

#aespa x fem reader #aespa angst #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin #karina x reader #karina aespa x reader #aespa x reader #aespa!yn #girl group imagines #ningning #winter #aeri

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the-littlest-lily · 4 months

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30 Days of G/t Self Care

I'm not fully sure where this idea came from, but here we go! I do enjoy a fun little daily challenge, and like most things my mind went to “but how can I make it G/t?” And here we are! Just in time for the new year, a 30 day self care challenge but… sizey. I wanted to make an actual calendar thing, just in time for the new year (though it can be started at any time, it's not specific to January). Check the days off, spread them out over a longer time, pick out just the ones that speak to you, whatever you want to do 😊 Here's the guide to go with it.

Day 1. Set aside a few minutes to take some deep breaths and focus on the present moment. To help ground yourself, perhaps wrap yourself in a blanket and imagine you are in a large, lovingly grasping hand, or hold a small item and imagine it's a tiny friend.

Day 2. Revisit some nostalgic G/t media. What first got you into this? Let yourself reminisce and remember why you love this in the first place.

Day 3. Make G/t art. It can be anything! Drawing, writing, crochet, pottery, you name it. No need to hold yourself to a certain standard or show anyone else, just take some time to be creative. Even if you don't deem yourself an artist, give it a shot and see if you enjoy it!

Day 4. Relax with a word search puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 5. Try out this journal prompt. If you could be tiny/big at will, what types of things would you do to relax? How might you extrapolate from this and apply it to your real life?

Day 6. Stretch your body today. What imaginary setting could you give yourself to make it G/t? Are you surrounded by gigantic furniture in your mind’s eye? Perhaps the yoga video on your phone helps you pretend you have a tiny instructor?

Day 7. Listen to some G/t music. This could be anything, from sizey music videos to songs with sizey lyrics to the Arietty soundtrack.

Day 8. Practice gratitude by listing out all the little things you're thankful for. (See what I did there?) Add some big things to the list for good measure.

Day 9. Practice stepping out of your comfort zone a little bit by talking about G/t, out loud if you’re able. Whether it's discussing with a friend (you brave soul), recording yourself on your phone (you can immediately delete it), or just mumbling to yourself in the shower. Maybe you’ll realize you want to make a G/t podcast and we all win!

Day 10. Here's a little creative prompt. Arrange everyday items to make a G/t scene (use toys, miniatures, or even fashion a tiny person out of paperclips or paper). Take a picture, share it if you like!

Day 11. Create a cozier space today to enjoy your G/t content. Grab some blankets, make yourself a snack or some tea, light some candles, whatever sounds nice to you. Sometimes it's making a mundane moment special!

Day 12. Make yourself something healthy to eat. While you prepare it, imagine how different the task might be to carry out if you were very big or very small. Maybe even have some fun making your snack in miniature too.

Day 13. Try out some affirmations today and see if you can make them both sizey and relevant to your life. Ideas of mantras could be “I am allowed to take up space,” “I choose to appreciate the little things today,” “I will achieve great things through small steps.”

Day 14. Go out into nature for some fresh air. Lean in close and pay attention to the small details, perhaps imagining a shrunken version of yourself or a small friend exploring.

Day 15. Challenge yourself to learn a new skill today to bring your Gt ideas to life. Maybe it's learning how to code, or making your own VR avatar, or learning a new art tool or technique. It's finally time to watch that tutorial you've been saving!

Day 16. Pull out your dream journal, or start up a new one! Maybe we’ll figure out the whole lucid dreaming thing and come close to experiencing Gt, wouldn't that be the dream~ If this doesn't resonate with you, maybe start a journal to jot down your Gt daydreams instead!

Day 17. Relax with a crossword puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 18. Try to cross a few to dos off your to do list someday. Make it more fun by adding in some joke tasks in there, like “leave out a snack for the fairies” or “prep for borrowing trip tonight” or “meet with giant friend for coffee.” Maybe even schedule some real life Gt tasks - such as “work on chapter 2 of (Gt story you're writing)” or “plan a VRC hangout”.

Day 19. It's time to dress the part! Is there any way you can dress up or accessorize yourself in a sizey way? Maybe you have an oversized hoodie, or a necklace of a tiny Eiffel tower, or an old shirt with Tinkerbell on it. Did you know you can actually buy Arietty’s giant hair clip thing? Or if this better scratches your creative itch, maybe your objective is to make tiny accessories for a toy or figurine.

Day 20. Take some time to rest. Just allow yourself to lay down in a quiet, cozy setting for at least a few minutes and have some dedicated G/t daydreaming.

Day 21. Try out a new exercise routine and use your G/t imaginings to make it more fun. Watching a new workout video? You’re a giant visiting the gym and that's your human instructor on the screen. Spontaneous dance session in your room? You're a fairy frolicking in a field of enormous wildflowers. Going for a swim? You're actually crossing a vast ocean, or maybe a small glass of water.

Day 22. Check out a new G/t story. Not a big reader normally? Just give it a shot!

Day 23. Give yourself a pamper night, whatever that means for you - face masks, cucumber water, a warm drink, candles, the works. Pamper night (face masks and stuff)

Day 24. Make or buy something for your G/t interests (miniatures or toys, “max”iature like a giant flower pillow, fairy-themed stationary, make a giant paper mache strawberry, etc)

Day 25. Relax with a coloring page. You can use any of your favorite artist’s lineart (just make sure to get permission and/or proper attribution if you want to post it). Here's an example option from me.

Day 26. Make a list of all the things you love about G/t. It's always nice to remember the various ways this interest might benefit our lives.

Day 27. Motivate yourself to try out a new hobby by making it G/t. Take that pottery class you've been meaning to take and make a giant acorn-shaped mug. Get into cosplay so you can dress up as a borrower. Dabble with watercolors and you may end up becoming a G/t artist. Study a new language and enjoy new sizey media you couldn't understand before. Whatever speaks to you!

Day 28. Do a favor for your future self and make a self care kit for when you're having a hard time. This could include a journal or affirmation cards, or perhaps some grounding items like fidget toys, stress balls and mints. Add a little something G/t in there too. Perhaps some kind of miniature with an interesting texture, or a fidget toy in the shape of a person, or a stuffed animal of a giant ladybug to hug.

Day 29. An act of kindness can do wonders for our mental health. Send someone in the G/t community a kind comment today, whether it's a long-time friend, someone you just met in a Discord group, or a comment to your favorite G/t artist.

Day 30. Reflect on all the activities you’ve tried during this self care challenge and journal about it. What have you learned about yourself? What might you incorporate more into your self care routines going forward? Pat yourself on the back for investing some time and attention into yourself - you deserve it!

#g/t #giant tiny #giant/tiny #gianttiny #sfwgt #gtselfcare #30 day challenge #30 days of gt

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years

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Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part I.

GIF: Originally posted by @sandmancentral

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit.

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs. Story inspired by my own experience with parasomnia and night terrors. Fun fact: I've had two parasomnia episodes since starting to write this and they were quite something! Second part coming soon. Have a great day, Saskia.

Sandman Masterlist

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Sleep hallucinating was not something that you had experienced as a child. The occasional bout of sleep talking and walking, yes, but seeing things in a state of semi-unconsciousness was something you had grown into.

This particular type of parasomnia was fuelled by nightmarish visions. Of insects and arachnids crawling in your sheets. Of threatening, humanoid shadows stalking the perimeter of your bed. One instance a few years ago had been a severed head floating above your face. Macabre but not wholly unexpected due to the brutal TV programme you had been watching before bedtime.

Each incident unleashed a visceral, unbridled terror that sent your pulse spiking and incoherent noises tumbling from your mouth. There would be a frantic scramble for the nearby light source, a search of your room or violent thrashings of your limbs to defend against your imagined threat.

Strangely, unlike when you had sleep walked and talked, you were always lucid enough to be aware of what was transpiring and recall each detail come morning. However, the truly unsettling part of each episode would be that despite your recognition that these visions weren’t real, you were totally unable to stop your physical reactions to them.

Your rational brain would be held hostage by your subconscious and until you had performed your safety behaviours, you were unable to assuage your over-stimulated mind.

There was a pattern to it too; when your life was being affected with stress, the hallucinations would gain their freedom. At present, stress was staining your nearly every waking moment and creating turmoil in your nocturnal ones.

This had been happening every night for over a week, with each hallucination becoming more vivid every time. It had resulted in a jittery dread of bedtime and extreme exhaustion come morning.

So when a worry-amplifying day at work coincides with you noticing a person standing in the corner of your room, you are hardly astonished.

As per, your survival instinct kicks in and forces you to slam your clammy hand onto the plastic lamp switch.

Terror then turns to confusion when your delusion doesn’t disappear like it usually would.

"Well this is new," you speak out loud.

You blink a few times, wondering if there’s something in your eyes.

You re-focus on the space where your little desk stands.

The person is still there. They appear to be a man. And you can pick out stunning levels of detail on their pale face.

An angular bone structure and nose. Intense, bluish eyes framed by dark lashes and brows. Perfect pinkish lips. Most striking, however, is their raven-coloured hair. It sticks out in all kinds of directions with unruly precision.

You laugh feverishly. "Okay, brain, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. I applaud your newfound persistence but you can stop now. I know this isn’t real."

“What makes you so sure that I’m not real?” The man asks.

Your head falls back in exasperation. “Oh great, a hallucination that talks.”

The position of the figure’s head told you that they were still waiting for an answer.

You lean forwards a fraction to study him more closely. You smirk as you choose your reply.

“Honestly, you’re way too attractive to be real.”

A smile ghosts over the man’s face and you hear a small noise of bemusement.

“You flatter me, but I can assure you that I am very real."

"Nope, you're just a side effect of my anxiety."

You close your eyes, upgrading to screwing them shut when you could still pick out his silhouette from behind your eyelids.

He's still there when you look again.

You find yourself rubbing rough circles into the skin at the back of your skull.

“Just wake up," you say to yourself as your movements become a little desperate.

"You already are awake."

His tone is the blended juxtaposition of the whispered beginnings of a rainstorm paired with the sub-continental trembles of an earthquake. It is utterly distracting but somehow you manage to argue back once more.

“I’m very certain that you are a dream. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to focus on regaining consciousness.”

The image takes a single, measured step towards you.

You could now see him in the mirror across from you. You were unsure if your subconscious had paid attention to the laws of reflection before.

The observation gives birth to panic. Never before had a dream been so intricate. And the more it progressed, the more you began to question whether you were actually asleep after all.

When he takes another step, fear moves from your stomach to your throat.

"Oh, shit," you curse in an undertone, as you find yourself retreating like a mouse from a feline.

The man continues to advance.

His floor length coat sways hypnotically with each movement he makes.

"It's just a dream," you reason.

More like a nightmare. Your inner voice volunteers unhelpfully.

Your arms form a crisscrossed belt around your waist, your hands are balled into fists, skin blanched by your clenched knuckle bones.

You begin to repeat four words in a mantra, hoping above all else that it’s enough to over-ride the sleep cycle that has you imprisoned.

“It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream.”

Your mattress is like a lifeboat in a treacherous ocean, you feel it shift under you as the man takes a seat beside you.

Two more of your senses begin to process stimuli from his presence; his proximity sends a jolt of stirring heat across your sweat-cooled skin and there’s a scent blend akin to a glacial landscape.

A landscape dominated by snow dappled mountains, divided by serene water and framed by ancient forests. Like the Fjords of Norway in the summertime.

You are aware of your growing delirium from this intoxicating sensory overload.

"It's just a dream," you whisper once more as his stare swallows you entirely.

He speaks in his velveteen voice, “Would a dream be able to do this?”

Before you have time to process, his hands are reaching for you own, prising them out of the vice-like grip you have on your torso and setting them down on your lap.

His deep blue eyes appraise you thoroughly, checking for a change in your viewpoint.

There is no difference. Your face is still set with disbelief.

A frown pinches the man’s face for a quick moment before reverting back his previous stoic expression.

His next movements are graceful and measured, like he's performed them a thousand times.

To your surprise, he pulls a leather pouch from his pocket.

He loosens the beaded draw strings and you feel a strange hum of energy pass through the air.

By this point you are so confused by your brain’s choice of hallucination that you simply accept it without question and continue to watch the scene unfold.

Long fingers dip inside the pouch to retrieve something that you cannot see.

He's then bending so his face is at the same level as yours. There's a rush of air from his mouth and a swirl of sand is hitting your skin.

You flinch away from the assault but it's too late. The particles are in your eyes.

It brings on a sensation that is impossible to ignore. It fogs up your brain like warm breath on a cold windscreen. A sensation completely summed up by the single word you hear him utter as your body goes limp.

"Sleep."

----------------

"All my dreaming torn in pieces."

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mindful-hempress · 5 months

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If the darkness initiates the thrill to feel the end to autumn's breeze, shea butter laced with purple haze trees, hypnotic daze branding carpet-burnt knees, then allow our tongues to dribble lamentations, trickle upon timid lips, swallow lime’s salty brim_

as dream invocations bargains with concoctions, distilling dripped lingo tripped wire emotion, slipping down pure chopped lines of devotion while tequila chimes awaken lucid rhymes_

bleeding out ballads from a dying moon; drunken words gurgled by a lovesick loon, lost inside the confines of a chilled mythical night, closing off worlds between warm lyrical thighs as penetrative eyes bend the will to slide in, peaking a sacrificial clockwork spin, spilling seeds sifting satin skin, but I must set to drift away before a new day begins.

Walata M.

Artwork Source - Flickr ~ Lime Green

#writers on tumblr #lime #salt #tequilla #autumn nights

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borderline-culture-is · 21 days

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bpd culture is the lyrics to lucid dreams by juicewrld

#borderline culture is #borderline personality disorder #bpd culture #bpd culture is #bpd safe #bpd #actually bpd #actually borderline #song recs

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pandoa · 1 year

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Hi!!! Can I request yellow pansies and anemones in a balcony theme for Jamil? Thank you!!

Yellow pansies ~ “they love me, they love me not. they love me, they love me n—” “what are you doing?” “GAH!”

Anemones ~ “just take my hand. don’t you dare second guess yourself”

~jamil viper x gender neutral reader~

the moment i saw the balcony theme and anemones prompt i immediately thought "ALADDIN A WHOLE NEW WORLD SCENE-" AND I'M JUST SDJNJVDV THE PERFECT WAY TO END THIS EVENT, THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING <3

♡shining, shimmering, splendid!♡

He was perfect. Way too perfect, actually. What kind of man was just too good at everything?

It was to the point where it drove you absolutely crazy. Every step he made caused your heart to flutter hoping each step would be an inch closer to him standing right beside you, every mention of his name made you helplessly lift your head thinking you and him were in the very same room, every word he said to you was another word you would place high on a pedestal as if it were the most enchanting sentence your ears had ever heard. He had lucid locks of hair your hands had only dreamed of running themselves through. Skin as smooth as silk that sent electrical shivers down your spine with just one simple touch of his skin on yours. His dancing lyrical, his mind intelligent, and his soul beautiful.

You were in love with Jamil Viper. And you were nearing the verge of insanity if you did not find out if he had felt the same.

Days would seem to pass in no time at all—mainly because you would constantly be dazed with your mental consciousness never present at all—and it regrettably began to influence, not only your emotions, but the life lived around you as well. You could no longer keep still, your mind always drifting off into never-ending daydreams, friends concerned for your health, and your heart needing a definite answer before it exploded into a million pieces. Which was why you were there now, leaning on Ramshackle’s antique balcony, pulling at the dainty petals of a flower you had picked on your way back to your dorm after class. This had to be settled once and for all. In the name of your ever-pounding heart.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” your hopeful muttering played through the trees and grassland residing at the bottom of your balcony, each petal you gently picked off gracefully gliding down to touch the greenery as it twirled and spun in the wind. Going up to Jamil and directly asking him about his own feelings was obviously not an option in these circumstances; that was simply too bold for your taste. So, you had resolved to the next best thing for determining someone's romantic emotions: using flower petals to predict your crush’s feelings.

Plucking another petal off of the delicate flower, you sighed wistfully as a gentle breeze began to comb through your hair, “He loves me, he loves me n—”

“What are you doing?”

“GAH! J-Jamil!” Upon hearing the calm voice of the Scarabia second year, your body jumped up in surprise as you hid the flower you had been holding behind the small of your back. Lifting your gaze up to face him, however, you had noticed something off about the way Jamil’s figure had slowly risen up and down as if he were flying in mid-air. That’s odd, you curiously thought, I don’t see a magical broom with him anywhere?

“What brings you here…floating on a…” a small pause cut your sentence as you looked over the balcony’s railings only to see a familiar piece of tapestry-like cloth hovering over the air—confusion plaguing your voice as you turned to look the boy directly in the eye, “magic…carpet? What the heck, Jamil?”

Jamil, softly clearing his throat, attempted to avoid eye contact as a hesitant hand shot up to nonchalantly cover a part of his face. For whatever reason, it had seemed like he was embarrassed—for what you did not know. You were too focused on hiding a burning blush on your end to notice the also red tint creeping onto the vice housewarden’s cheeks. Trying to continue on with what he had come here for, Jamil finally gained back some of his composure and looked back at you, “I noticed that you seemed…quite stressed this past week and thought that you could use a moment to clear your head. So, I borrowed Kalim’s carpet and headed straight for Ramshackle. Apologies for scaring you, though. That, I did not plan.”

“What do you mean?” you timidly asked, heart still palpitating miles and miles each second Jamil’s gray eyes had bore into your own.

“I’m taking you with me to relax.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” you watched as Jamil had shifted his position to get a better angle before reaching his own hand out to latch onto yours. “Here, just take my hand. Don’t you dare second guess yourself,” he said as the sun over Ramshackle’s balcony reflected onto the shining gold accents of his charms and bracelets—causing him to glimmer brighter than any star you had ever seen, “And don’t worry either.”

“You can trust me.”

a/n: and then reader and jamil ride off into the dramatic sunset singing "a whole new world" throughout the entirety of nrc until jamil finds out kalim tried to cook again and jamil's little date is interrupted because he doesn't want the housewarden to burn down their whole dorm <3

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #twst jamil #jamil x you #jamil twisted wonderland #jamil twst #scarabia #gender neutral reader #blossom grove prompt event

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perfectlyripeclementine · 5 months

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queer novel masterlist

cleaning up that post i've got running with books that touch on queerness. these are not organized in any particular fashion, or gathered along any particular theme. these are just gay novels i've either read and enjoyed or would like to read. blurbs are the books' own descriptions of themselves. not all these blurbs mention the queer stuff, but trust, if it's on this list it's in there. last updated 9 dec 23.

lists: sapphic books by Palestinian authors; butch memoirs; another list of masc, butch and stud books; a digital library of trans-related content; free access to the works of Leslie Feinberg.

After Sappho, Selby Wynn Schwartz. "“The first thing we did was change our names. We were going to be Sappho,” so begins this intrepid debut novel, centuries after the Greek poet penned her lyric verse. Ignited by the same muse, a myriad of women break from their small, predetermined lives for seemingly disparate paths: in 1892, Rina Faccio trades her needlepoint for a pen; in 1902, Romaine Brooks sails for Capri with nothing but her clotted paintbrushes; and in 1923, Virginia Woolf writes: “I want to make life fuller and fuller.” Writing in cascading vignettes, Selby Wynn Schwartz spins an invigorating tale of women whose narratives converge and splinter as they forge queer identities and claim the right to their own lives. A luminous meditation on creativity, education, and identity, After Sappho announces a writer as ingenious as the trailblazers of our past."

All Boys Aren't Blue, George M. Johnson In a series of personal essays, prominent journalist and LGBTQIA+ activist George M. Johnson's All Boys Aren't Blue explores his childhood, adolescence, and college years in New Jersey and Virginia.

The works of Dionne Brand: In Another Place, Not Here. Beautiful and meticulously wrought, set in both Toronto and the Caribbean, this astonishing novel gives voice to the power of love and belonging in a story of two women, profoundly different, each in her own spiritual exile.

Love Enough. In Love Enough, the sharp beauty of Brand's writing draws us effortlessly into the intersecting stories of her characters caught in the middle of choices, apprehensions, fears. Each of the tales here—June's, Bedri's, Da'uud's, Lia's opens a different window on the city they all live in, mostly in parallel, but occasionally, delicately, touching and crossing one another. Each story radiates other stories. In these pages, the urban landscape cannot be untangled from the emotional one; they mingle, shift and cleave to one another.

The young man Bedri experiences the terrible isolation brought about by an act of violence, while his father, Da'uud, casualty of a geopolitical conflict, driving a taxi, is witness to curious gestures of love and anger; Lia faces the sometimes unbridgeable chasms of family; and fierce June, ambivalent and passionate with her string of lovers, now in middle age discovers: "There is nothing universal or timeless about this love business. It is hard if you really want to do it right." Brand is our greatest observer—of actions, of emotions, of the little things that often go unnoticed but can mean the turn of a day. At once lucid and dream-like, Love Enough is a profoundly modern work that speaks to the most fundamental questions of how we live now.

What We All Long For. Tuyen is an aspiring artist and the daughter of Vietnamese parents who've never recovered from losing one of their children while in the rush to flee Vietnam in the 1970s. She rejects her immigrant family's hard-won lifestyle, and instead lives in a rundown apartment with friends—each of whom is grappling with their own familial complexities and heartache.

By turns thrilling and heartbreaking, Tuyen's lost brother—who has since become a criminal in the Thai underworld—journeys to Toronto to find his long-lost family. As Quy's arrival nears, tensions build, friendships are tested, and an unexpected encounter will forever alter the lives of Tuyen and her friends. Gripping at times, heartrending at others, What We All Long For is an ode to a generation of longing and identity, and to the rhythms and pulses of a city and its burgeoning, questioning youth.

The Human Origins of Beatrice Porter and Other Essential Ghosts, Soraya Palmer. Sisters Zora and Sasha Porter are drifting apart. Bearing witness to their father’s violence and their mother’s worsening illness, an unsettled Zora escapes into her journal, dreaming of being a writer, while Sasha discovers sex and chest binding, spending more time with her new girlfriend than at home.

But the sisters, like their parents, must come together to answer to something more ancient and powerful than they know—and reckon with a family secret buried in the past. A tale told from the perspective of a mischievous narrator, featuring the Rolling Calf who haunts butchers, Mama Dglo who lives in the ocean, a vain tiger, and an outsmarted snake, The Human Origins of Beatrice Porter and Other Essential Ghosts is set in a world as alive and unpredictable as Helen Oyeyemi’s.

Telling of the love between sisters who don’t always see eye to eye, this extraordinary debut novel is a celebration of the power of stories, asking, What happens to us when our stories are erased? Do we disappear? Or do we come back haunting?

Before We Were Trans, Kit Heyam. Today’s narratives about trans people tend to feature individuals with stable gender identities that fit neatly into the categories of male or female. Those stories, while important, fail to account for the complex realities of many trans people’s lives. Before We Were Trans illuminates the stories of people across the globe, from antiquity to the present, whose experiences of gender have defied binary categories. Blending historical analysis with sharp cultural criticism, trans historian and activist Kit Heyam offers a new, radically inclusive trans history, chronicling expressions of trans experience that are often overlooked, like gender-nonconforming fashion and wartime stage performance. Before We Were Trans transports us from Renaissance Venice to seventeenth-century Angola, from Edo Japan to early America, and looks to the past to uncover new horizons for possible trans futures. 

Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers, Lillian Faderman. As Lillian Faderman writes, there are "no constants with regard to lesbianism," except that lesbians prefer women. In this groundbreaking book, she reclaims the history of lesbian life in twentieth-century America, tracing the evolution of lesbian identity and subcultures from early networks to more recent diverse lifestyles. She draws from journals, unpublished manuscripts, songs, media accounts, novels, medical literature, pop culture artifacts, and oral histories by lesbians of all ages and backgrounds, uncovering a narrative of uncommon depth and originality.

note from roo: essay in this about how queer white women engaged with Harlem should be essential reading for white queers who enter spaces (like drag spaces, ballroom spaces etc) that are informed by Black culture.

Land of Milk and Honey, C Pam Zhang. A smog has spread. Food crops are rapidly disappearing. A chef escapes her dying career in a dreary city to take a job at a decadent mountaintop colony seemingly free of the world's troubles.

There, the sky is clear again. Rare ingredients abound. Her enigmatic employer and his visionary daughter have built a lush new life for the global elite, one that reawakens the chef to the pleasures of taste, touch, and her own body.In this atmosphere of hidden wonders and cool, seductive violence, the chef's boundaries undergo a thrilling erosion. Soon she is pushed to the center of a startling attempt to reshape the world far beyond the plate.

Sensuous and surprising, joyous and bitingly sharp, told in language as alluring as it is original, Land of Milk and Honey lays provocatively bare the ethics of seeking pleasure in a dying world. It is a daringly imaginative exploration of desire and deception, privilege and faith, and the roles we play to survive. Most of all, it is a love letter to food, to wild delight, and to the transformative power of a woman embracing her own appetite.

Grievers and Maroons by adrienne maree brown. Grievers is the story of a city so plagued by grief that it can no longer function. Dune’s mother is patient zero of a mysterious illness that stops people in their tracks—in mid-sentence, mid-action, mid-life—casting them into a nonresponsive state from which no one recovers. Dune must navigate poverty and the loss of her mother as Detroit’s hospitals, morgues, and graveyards begin to overflow. As the quarantined city slowly empties of life, she investigates what caused the plague, and what might end it. In anguish, she follows in the footsteps of her late researcher father, who has a physical model of Detroit’s history and losses set up in their basement. She dusts the model off and begins tracking the sick and dying, discovering patterns, finding comrades in curiosity, conspiracies for the fertile ground of the city, and the unexpected magic that emerges when the debt of grief is cleared.

In the second installment of the Grievers trilogy, adrienne maree brown brings to bear her background as an activist rooted in Detroit. The pandemic of Syndrome H-8 continues to ravage the city of Detroit and everyone in Dune's life. In Maroons, she must learn what community and connection mean in the lonely wake of a fatal virus. Emerging from grief to follow a subtle path of small pleasures through an abandoned urban landscape, she begins finding other unlikely survivors with little in common but the will to live. Together they begin to piece together the puzzle of their survival, and that of the city itself.

Elastoe, Darcie Little Badger. "Elatsoe—Ellie for short—lives in an alternate contemporary America shaped by the ancestral magics and knowledge of its Indigenous and immigrant groups. She can raise the spirits of dead animals—most importantly, her ghost dog Kirby. When her beloved cousin dies, all signs point to a car crash, but his ghost tells her otherwise: He was murdered. Who killed him and how did he die? With the help of her family, her best friend Jay, and the memory great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother, Elatsoe, must track down the killer and unravel the mystery of this creepy town and it’s dark past. But will the nefarious townsfolk and a mysterious Doctor stop her before she gets started? A breathtaking debut novel featuring an asexual, Apache teen protagonist, Elatsoe combines mystery, horror, noir, ancestral knowledge, haunting illustrations, fantasy elements, and is one of the most-talked about debuts of the year."

Sordidez, by E.G. Condé "In the ruin created by climate disaster and a devastating civil war, survivors in Puerto Rico and the Yucatán peninsula struggle to rebuild their communities and heal their lands, but powerful forces from abroad plot against them. Desperate for answers, Puerto Rican journalist Vero Diaz seeks the counsel of the Maya revolutionary known as the Loba Roja, triggering a chain of events that will forever reshape his destiny and the fate of the Caribbean world."

When They Tell You To Be Good, by Prince Shakur "When They Tell You to Be Good charts Shakur’s political coming of age from closeted queer kid in a Jamaican family to radicalized adult traveler, writer, and anarchist in Obama and Trump’s America. Shakur journeys from France to the Philippines, South Korea, and elsewhere to discover the depths of the Black experience, and engages in deep political questions while participating in movements like Black Lives Matter and Standing Rock. By the end, Shakur reckons with his identity, his family’s immigration, and the intergenerational impacts of patriarchal and colonial violence."

My Government Means to Kill Me, Rasheed Newson "Earl "Trey" Singleton III arrives in New York City with only a few dollars in his pocket. Born into a wealthy Black Indianapolis family, at 17, he is ready to leave his overbearing parents and their expectations behind.

In the city, Trey meets up with a cast of characters that changes his life forever. He volunteers at a renegade home hospice for AIDS patients, and after being put to the test by gay rights activists, becomes a member of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP). Along the way Trey attempts to navigate past traumas and searches for ways to maintain familial relationships—all while seeking the meaning of life amid so much death.

Vibrant, humorous, and fraught with entanglements, Rasheed Newson’s My Government Means to Kill Me is an exhilarating, fast-paced coming-of-age story that lends itself to a larger discussion about what it means for a young gay Black man in the mid-1980s to come to terms with his role in the midst of a political and social reckoning."

Where There Was Fire, John Manuel Arias Costa Rica, 1968. When a lethal fire erupts at the American Fruit Company’s most lucrative banana plantation burning all evidence of a massive cover-up, and her husband disappears, the future of Teresa’s family is changed forever.

Now, twenty-seven years later, Teresa and her daughter Lyra are picking up the pieces. Lyra wants nothing to do with Teresa, but is desperate to find out what happened to her family that fateful night. Teresa, haunted by a missing husband and the bitter ghost of her mother, Amarga, is unable to reconcile the past. What unfolds is a story of a mother and daughter trying to forgive what they do not yet understand, and the mystery at the heart of one family’s rupture.

Brimming with ancestral spirits, omens, and the anthropomorphic forces of nature, John Manuel Arias weaves a brilliant tapestry of love, loss, secrets, and redemption in Where There Was Fire.

#queer lit #qlit #queer fiction #queer memoirs #queer history #lgbt history #lgbt writers #lgbtq writers #lgbt novels #lgbtq novels #queer novels #tbr #to be read #reading list #queer reading list

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