#bc i lost my collection of writings on this subject that i have read and i cant find them anywhere :(

[lesb0]

miss terra what is museum curating like? i recently felt very strongly like it would be something im good at but im worried about overthrowing my whole life plan for one very specific career (i am currently studying physics, have always enjoyed reading and writing and painting and visiting museums but never thought i would want to pursue an art career). mostly the detail oriented part appeals to me and i think selecting and arranging the pieces and writing their descriptions is something i would be good at but im wondering if i have a romanticised view of the job bc it also seems to be an administrative and supervisor position? also how much freedom would i get in choosing the subjects of exhibitions like would i have to do exhibitons about art that i viscerally HATE (im really picky) thank you in advance<3

Its hard work! you need professional degrees in art history + museology to touch anything over 50 years old. A lot of it is social engineering/institution politics, you have to navigate the hierarchy with perfect subordination. day to day is managing a lot of pretentious neurotic peoples impossible egos all fighting for top billing on a project. you don't control anything, the board of directors does. at my level, you'll learn to feed leaderships' giant egos and get the job finished without breaking into wwiii.

As for exhibitions, your director will loan and order the artists she wants to work with for a show and you might be called over for input but she really just wants you to say how genius the project is and how excited you are lol! your lead curator and coordinator/s will make terrible creative choices, your job is to best serve their vision exactly as they imagined it. half your job is just sitting still in your little shared office cubicle back of house and waiting for the higher ups to see your mockups so they can say, "good job!"

in this post Fred Wilson era, a lot of museum work is just mitigating potential backlash, assuming everything from a collection has already pissed somebody off. that being said, I've learned through work experience that I prefer museum education, publicity, and registrar roles to curatorial. but in museums, your real job never stops at the description. everyone does everything. interns do conservation and greetings. janitorial directs floor traffic to find lost kids. directors scrub paint spots off the floor and do the rag laundry. wages for full time serious mid career positions start at $12 /hr. seriously.

and not to deter you at all from a museum career! to ME, this is all absolutely worth it!! the passion, pride, and reward of opening reception is something you can't price. watching everyone engage deeply with my project is enough. theres no other job I would rather have :-)

of course, its also totally possible to go the uneducated independent route, if you can do it part time as a hobby, sticking to smaller contemporary galleries, posting on insta frequently, and writing for local artists, often pro bono, etc.

[loregoddess]

For the unpopular opinion ask game, how about🤍🖤 and 💔? (for any series you want to do!)

It's funny, albeit a little baffling, that I got the questions about fictional character morality twice. Not a bad thing, but definitely not the two nickels I was expecting to collect.

I wrote a sort of "overview to my epistemological approach when thinking about morality in fiction" over here, but the tl;dr is that analyzing morality in fiction is tricky, and I currently feel that looking at the morals of characters and fictional settings in the context of the narrative is important to separate from my personal responses to the work which stem from my own moral sensibilities, but that it's also important to talk about both when trying to do critical analyses because both are valid sources of experiences and information w/ fiction works (and other forms of art) worth contemplating.

And I'll go with...hmm...FE:3H bc I can hit all three questions for that. (Under the cut bc, you guessed it, length!)

🤍: Which character is not as morally bad as everyone else seems to think?

Hmmmmmmmmm I'm gonna just say it as it is: Ingrid. See, AM was my first route, and I went in blind and therefore did not know about the A-support roulette, and the game mechanics worked so well for getting all the characters I was using for my main force (the Lions kids for AM obviously) to full supports with each other. Which meant that while Ingrid and Dedue's C and B supports did not leave a good taste in my mouth, I still went ahead and viewed their A support where lo and behold, Ingrid has some amazing and very important character development where she apologizes to Dedue, and admits her racism was wrong. Which is like, huge for her characterization, since some of her own racist attitudes are deeply tied to the fact that she lost Glenn, which is a huge defining event for a lot of her characterization beyond just the learned racism from Farghus culture.

And again, I didn't know how A-support roulette worked my first run, and bc of this and that, I also ended up getting Ingrid and Dedue's paired ending, which is...surprisingly fine. Very typical fare for a lot of Ingrid's endings actually, but with the bonus that apparently relations between the people of Faeghus and Duscur did improve bc of Ingrid and Dedue's unfailing friendship.

Honestly, Ingrid's arc is fairly well handled all things considered, and the writers of Hopes also decided that "Ingrid learns to seriously look at her core beliefs and reevaluate them, and actively chooses to work against her internalized racist feelings towards Duscur" was such an integral part of Ingrid's character that rather than just being hidden in one easily missed A-support and ending card, Ingrid's growth is a fundamental part of her character in the AG route as a whole (and works alongside the themes of that route), and it's worked into several of Ingrid's supports and her paralogue.

But the thing is the fandom might as well have burned Ingrid at the stake for a character flaw that was written to be a flaw and also written as something she can grow past, but this is the piss on the poor reading comprehension website, so it's not like anyone actually bothered reading/watching her A-support with Dedue or think critically about literally any of her writing (at least in the early days of the 3H fandom, I dunno what the fandom's like now since I have so many blogs blocked).

Ingrid's not even my favorite character, but her treatment by the fandom really irked me, and even when fans of color wrote up actual critical analyses on her character and pointed out that she's technically not that bad as a person and decently written, and that moving past her racism is part of her characterization, well, as is typical for fandom spaces, those fans got harassed despite being y'know, people of color themselves who definitely knew what they were talking about. There's not really a whole lot else I could write on that subject specifically that hasn't been said already and better by fans of color, but it really is telling of a fandom space's racism when they performativity demonize a fictional character over said fictional character's fictional racism, and then turn around and harass actual real live people of color.

🖤: Which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?

Aaaand the flipside of Ingrid's treatment by the fandom is Hilda. Now, this is partly the fault of 3H's writing, since Hilda's overall writing is much weaker than Ingrid's, as the writers don't often branch out much from the "Hilda is super strong and capable, but lazy af" joke trait. But then they drop the whole story bit with Cyril being a former "servant" of House Goneril, and it's strongly implied that after being used as a child soldier in Almyra's army and losing a battle, he was captured by House Goneril and made to work for them, only being saved (quite literally) by Rhea when she happened to visit.

This is never addressed in any of Hilda's supports with Cyril, and even the idea that House Goneril apparently takes Almyran soldiers as prisoners of war is never brought up. Ever. Not even in Three Hopes, where we get Holst as a character and theoretically more insight into House Goneril, do we get any explanation for whatever the hell happened to Cyril.

So, unlike Ingrid, who has an entire "I'm in the wrong and I need to be a better person" moment (in two games!), Hilda doesn't get this. The writers entirely ignore the inherent racism present in Hilda's characterization. This doesn't necessarily make Hilda herself a "bad person" or morally bankrupt, since again, a lot of this hinges on the fact that the writing just straight-up isn't there, so we can't even look at the narrative worldbuilding for in-story morality to analyze Hilda.

But the fandom had no problem overlooking the whole "foreign servants captured from battle" thing, in part bc the fandom loves to ignore Cyril, and in part bc Hilda ended up being treated as the poster lesbian, which is more or less what most of her fanon rep dilutes her character to. Which again, the lackluster writing bugs me, but the way the fandom decided to handle Hilda's character bugs me 100x more, bc I don't like characters being boiled down to one or two traits and I don't like watching one character who actually gets character development and decent writing be sent through a witch hunt while another, with arguably the same issues but significantly less development and writing, is treated as having done nothing wrong ever. Which like, sure they're both fictional characters, neither can actually do anything, but the fandom's behavior still bothers me.

💔: If you had to remove one major character from the series, who would you choose?

I'm not really keen on removing characters from finished stories bc usually every character serves some sort of purpose (I mean sure, there are some finished stories where I feel story elements served no purpose and should have been cut, but that's neither here no there), and whatever my gripes with 3H's wild writing are, I think this applies to 3H as well: every character serves a purpose of some sort or other.

However, if I had to remove a "character", I'd remove all of the Agarthans and all of the worldbuilding for Agartha, but only for the "what if Edelgard was actually the main villain" rewrite ideas in my head. Mostly this is bc the Agarthans, as the "actual" villains behind everything, significantly weaken Edelgard's role and impact as an antagonist. Also, since we never actually get to learn anything about the war that "killed" Sothis or anything about Sothis's lifetime, nothing about the Agarthans or Agartha really feels like it matters to the overall narrative of 3H.

So, yeet the Agartha subplot and we suddenly have so much more room to try out different ways to write Edelgard into an actual antagonist, which like, I enjoy a really well-written antagonist, I love when I find women who are villains who are well-written and interesting and devastating in the stories they inhabit, I would have loved to see the sort of villain Edelgard could have been sans the Agarthans.

Of course though, I contain multitudes, and would also have liked to see an actual proper redemption arc for her, but in any of my speculative "how would I (re)write 3H?" daydreams, the only way I can achieve both "Edelgard should be an interesting antagonist in her own right", and also "have the chance at a redemption arc" I actually do need to keep the Agarthans around, and would have to expand all the Agarthan lore (and likewise Sothis's writing), so in the end it's not like I feel like the Agarthan characters actually have to go for 3H story's loose ends to be sewn up. And they've got the potential to be interesting, like with a little polish they could have been really fun, terrifying villains, so I don't hate the Agarthans. If nothing else, the FE dubstep is still the funniest song I've ever come across in a FE game, and I want that to stay around.

[shatterthefragments]

16, 36, 48

I have no idea if I already sent you asks or not. The brain has been fuzzy lately. Feel free to ignore if you've already answered!

No worries!! I am still happy rambly so here’s a cut again:

16. Romantically, do you prefer men, women, both, any/don’t care, or are you aromantic?

I’ll maybe add that right now because Sleep Token is The Fixation I’m perhaps a bit more into men at the moment? But also infatuation is fickle and I have no clue I just love everyone 💖✨

Ooh but also a coworker had a girl she said would be perfect for me and even though it wouldn’t work out bc my poor lungs can’t take smoke and she smokes weed but even when just thinking about her I melt she’s THAT adorable 🥰

Idk. Just. People 🥹

36. What’s your favorite book?

Oh. Oh shit. A favourite… a favourite………… (I am looking at my bookcases) (my sister took a bunch of books though…)

ACTUALLY IGNORE EVERYTHING AFTER LETS GO WITH CALVIN AND HOBBES COLLECTIONS!!!!!!!!! 😁

Hmmm.

Will Grayson, Will Grayson and Ellen Hopkins’ books around 2010 ish are some of the first books I loved that I got and kept. As well as Looking For Alaska.

David Levithan’s Wide Awake I think is the copy I highlighted through my favourite parts?

For amount of rereads: I have lost count of how often I have reread Ellen Hopkins’ books (though her style of prose heavily inspired much of my poetry that I wrote grade 6 onwards and to this day sometimes too even though I hardly remember the stories now) and What They Always Tell Us. I know for sure I read Evernight(?) (Claudia Gray) 12 times before I returned it to the library. I tend to mostly read YA fiction? (I mostly read fanfiction TBH) I adore Maggie Stiefvater’s Wolves of Mercy Falls series so much!! (I had the fortune to go to a writing workshop of hers once!)

I love manga (gosh Fullmetal Alchemist has my heart of course but also some other faves: Our Dreams At Dusk, Genkaku Picasso, Grand Guignol Orchestra, and of course Fruits Basket)

I don’t read much nonfiction despite wishing to. I have a book on Gothic Architecture that I REALLY WANT to read but. Can’t yet. And there’s also a set of architecture books a sailing friend recommended to me but (subject to availability from library) couldn’t read that either even when I checked it out. Will have to try again later. Hopefully the invisible barriers drop.

48. Are you afraid of death?

Yes and no.

Yes because I’m no longer ready for it to be over. There’s so many friends to see, food to try, things to go and do, hobbies to learn and partake in, oceans and beaches to visit, things to cook, people to love, animals to pet etc etc like?!? You know what?!? Even if I just spent the rest of my time learning how to make music that’s so much time?!? There’s never going to be enough time to do everything I want to so I CAN’T CUT MY TIME SHORT!!! I just have to try to make the most of it and drag myself out of my Misery Hole when I can’t see it. There’s so many things I want to do and try and places to go!! Even just within a couple hours of where I live!!! I want to go pet some alpacas!! And there’s no reason why not!! one day I can make a day trip and go drive to go do this?! And tattoos to get! Art to make and admire!! So many endless possibilities!! (So many I can never choose ack) so I’m scared I won’t get to try to do even half of the things I want to. Or go to even one other continent. Cuddles too!!

And no because everything is kind of. A gift at this point? I never thought I’d live this long and don’t really have much of a plan. I definitely thought I’d be dead five+ years ago (whether by my own hand or getting clocked and murdered bc I DEFINITELY watched Boys Don’t Cry too young and I’m left with no memories but abject fear from it)

And I think that I *will* be scared when the time comes because I have a lot of regrets etc and I want to keep going for as long as I can and just. Enjoy what I can. Try to make things better if not hugely at least for my friends. And just. Take the highs when I can get them 😁

Reminder to myself to attach one of the things that popped into my head at reading this question: because even though Desperation to not be here anymore and not have to suffer still has me in its grips. Like? I’ve clawed my way out (and I’ll do it again) and I want to continue living. I want to live to the best of my ability. I want to make a home for myself. In my space. In my body. In my mind. And so I will do my best to.

[jittyjames]

OKAY I HAVE A TON, YOURE WELCOME

I JUST LIKE SEEING HOW DIFFERENT MY WRITING PROCESS IS LOL-

✨🌈🌿💝🤍💥🧿💌

AHHH I LOVE THE TON OMG OK SO

✨ invisible string. invisible string a million times. i have so many scenes written for that fic that i absolutely adore, but i think the prologue was really weak and didn't represent what the story really was. more than anything i would like to revive that fic and post it, because it's my only modern multichap fic. i'll go back and reread the scenes i wrote for it and really want to share them. i miss her so much.

🌈 (you mean beside the anon fics i've posted in an embarrasing fandom that will never see the light of day?? lol jk)) in all honesty, i worked really hard on bastard, orphan from my whumptober collection. it might not seem like it bc it's kind of short and lost within that fic, but i kept rewriting it and rewriting it. i literally spent an entire day working on it and doing nothing else. i'm not sure if it was the subject matter or a specific scene, but that fic took a lot. the ending washingdad scene is still one of my favorite things i've written.

🌿 creating is literally my life source tbh. if i'm not actually writing, i'm plotting things out in my head. i wish i could spend the rest of my life just creating stories. that's the dream. for me creating is the best feeling in the world. to be in control of a world, and know how everything is going to end is amazing.

🤍 i actually don't think i have one of these!! my readers are literally amazing!!

💥 all alone, watch him run. this one was really sad (which is always something nice) and i actually really liked the plot of this one (bc it was suggested by a lovely anon of course!) i love how i was able to rewrite a scene and it still feel new!!

🧿 i must admit, it can be extremely frustrating to write something you're really proud of, and be excited to post it for it to only flop and have no one even read it, so sometimes i have to remind myself the algorithim isnt always on my side. sometimes the tags or the description don't click with people. sometimes the time isn't right for that particular fic. in the end, it only matters if you like it. i just have to keep reminding myself of that, and keep the fic up. at some point, someone might come across the fic and love it. someone might love it already and they're just on a guest account. you never truly know how your work reaches people. it's not always about the numbers. you just gotta repeat the mantra until you believe it.

💌 oh i have so much planned for this coming year. it might be off to a rough start posting wise, but we'll get back into the swing of things. what i'm really excited about is the exspansive genres i'm working on. like we're out here writing challenging, fresh things. i can't wait for y'all to see. (as for the means to go on readers, a little secret i can share with you that has me excited is that none of you are going to be okay. it's taking a while to write, but there's so much angst packed into these last few chapters.)

[spidergvven]

Food Sovereignty Resources

An introductory post on the basics of food sovereignty

What is food sovereignty?

“Food sovereignty is the right of peoples to healthy and culturally appropriate food produced through ecologically sound and sustainable methods, and their right to define their own food and agriculture systems. It puts those who produce, distribute and consume food at the heart of food systems and policies rather than the demands of markets and corporations. It defends the interests and inclusion of the next generation. It offers a strategy to resist and dismantle the current corporate trade and food regime, and directions for food, farming, pastoral and fisheries systems determined by local producers. Food sovereignty prioritizes local and national economies and markets and empowers peasant and family farmer-driven agriculture, artisanal fishing, pastoralist-led grazing, and food production, distribution and consumption based on environmental, social and economic sustainability.”

–Declaration of Nyéléni

The seven pillars of food sovereignty:

1. Focuses on Food for People

Puts people’s need for food at the centre of policies

Insists that food is more than just a commodity

 2. Builds Knowledge and Skills

Builds on traditional knowledge

Uses research to support and pass this knowledge to future generations

Rejects technologies that undermine or contaminate local food systems

3. Works with Nature

Optimizes the contributions of ecosystems

Improves resilience

 4. Values Food Providers

Supports sustainable livelihoods

Respects the work of all food providers

 5. Localizes Food Systems

Reduces distance between food providers and consumers

Rejects dumping and inappropriate food aid

Resists dependency on remote and unaccountable corporations

 6. Puts Control Locally

Places control in the hands of local food providers

Recognizes the need to inhabit and to share territories

Rejects the privatization of natural resources

 7. Food is Sacred

Recognizes that food is a gift of life, and not to be squandered

Asserts that food cannot be commodified

Food sovereignty also fights for women’s rights in agriculture.

Organizations:

Via Campesino

Via Campesino is an international coalition including but not limited to: peasant farmer organizations, agricultural workers, and indigenous communities. They are the originators of the term food sovereignty.

Via Campesino’s archive of documents on food sovereignty

Their website also has separate sections for climate justice, international solidarity, agroecology, peasant rights, and land/water rights. Their recent posts focus a lot on the affect of COVID-19 on peasant farmers and workers in the global south

Land Rights Now

“Land Rights Now is an international alliance campaign to secure Indigenous and community land rights everywhere“

A Recipe For Global Food Security from Land Rights Now:

some key statistics from this report:

“Up to 2.5 billion women and men depend on land and natural resources that are held, used or managed in common. They are farmers, pastoralists, fisherfolk, and forest keepers. They make up a large part of the world’s small-scale food producers, who – despite difficult challenges – provide 70% of world’s food. They protect more than 50% of the planet’s land surface, but governments recognize their ownership rights over just 10%”

“To feed a growing world without exhausting its resources, food production needs to be sustainable, protecting diverse landscapes rather than investing in mono-cropping. Indigenous Peoples and local communities preserve 80% of the world’s biodiversity…Research shows that where Indigenous Peoples have secure rights to their lands there is less than one-tenth the deforestation rate of where they do not”

Academic Writing:

Agroecology, Food Sovereignty, and the New Green Revolution

Agroecology: The Ecology of Food Systems

Linking the defence of territory to food sovereignty: Peasant environmentalisms and extractive neoliberalism in Guatemala.

Food Sovereignty and Gender Justice

Urban transition toward food sovereignty

Books:

Campesino A Campesino: Voices from Latin America's Farmer to Farmer Movement for Sustainable Agriculture by Eric Holt-Gimenez

The Struggle for Food Sovereignty: Alternative Development and the Renewal of Peasant Societies Today edited by Remy Herrera and Kin Chi Lau

*Farming While Black: Soul Fire Farm’s Practical Guide to Liberation on the Land by Leah Penniman

All Our Relations: Native Struggles for Land and Life by Winona LaDuke

*this book is intended for black people, obviously no one can physically stop others from reading it and it could help in understanding some of the struggles black people face but lets just all try to be conscious of intruding on spaces that are not for us

—

I hope this post has been helpful at introducing people to the concept food sovereignty, there is so much more to read and learn but I wanted to provide at least a starting point for people who have never heard of this movement. I hope we can all continue moving forward towards a more sustainable and just future by continuing to empower, uplift and work in solidarity with black, indigenous and peasant farmers around the world.

Painting by Francisco Daniel of the Movimiento Socialista de los Trabajadores

Music: Cuando tenga la tierra by Mercedes Sosa

[labyrinth-of-her-heart]

my random eddie munson headcanons:

this man does not know his shoe size, it ranges from at least three sizes. he sorta just guesses, and it changes from shoe to shoe. he only found out how to find shoes that kinda fit when he forgot his pe (gym) shoes in his first year, and the teacher helped him get some out of lost property. still doesn't know what he's doing tho

has a hair wash timetable in his head. he sticks to it when he wants to, but he's not too fussed tbh. eddie thinks his hair looks best on the third day, and puts his favourite clothes on that day as well. on the last day he embraces the 'weird chainsmoker guy who lives in a trailer on the outskirts of town that leaves cryptic messages for the main character' look.. yknow the one im talking about? right?

carrying on the theme of hair his fringe is never cut properly. you think it looks good? the hidden hair is two inches shorter than the rest. looks even? he's pulled down his curls so it looks even. he cuts it with the closest kitchen scissors in his badly lit bathroom, when he's supposed to be leaving for school in five minutes.

eddie rarely ties up his hair infront of people that aren't in hellfire. he often uses hair to shield himself from peoples looks and snide comments under their breath. he also uses his hair to hide his face from people. tying his hair up makes him feel vulnerable, so he only really does it infront of people he trusts and knows won't judge him.

moving subjects: eddie secretly loves belting out power ballads when he's alone, and i mean really go for it. fan in his hair, throwing his jacket down, staring wistfully out the window, sitting on a table/chair and jumping off it, sliding down walls. one time he even sat in the shower (it was off don't worry) but he saw a spider and he never did it there again.

sometimes when he needs a guitar pick he cannot find one. if an awesome new riff or chord progression pops into his head, it takes him around five minutes to find a pick. but they always seem to turn up when he doesn't need them, he even found one in the fridge once

had a lisp when he was younger, and wayne thought it was the most adorable thing ever. on some words eddie still has it, but you have to listen carefully to hear it

likes to get high or take hallucinogenics and read fantasy books when he wants to. you can imagine what type of scenarios come from this 😭

bonus: eddie has a small collection of things from his childhood in a shoebox. he doesn't look at them often but when he does he gets emotional. he tries to hold the tears in, but they get the better of him every time. he thinks about how so much hurt can happen to an innocent little boy, the hardships he was destined to endure when he couldn't even talk. im gonna stop now bc im getting close to tears

this is my first time writing anything so i hope you like it! please talk to me and agree/disagree with any of these or build on them, im more than happy for that!! stay safe and stay aware guys 💗💗

[marshmallowprotection]

Hi!! I’d like a matchup, if you’re doing them still. My name is mar, my pronouns are she/they/he, and I’m a lesbian but since that terribly limits my options let’s just ignore that. Im a libra sun, Capricorn moon, Scorpio rising (and Scorpio Venus lol), ESTJ 3w4.

My main love language is quality time. I tend to like people who I can also be friends with (I’ve had the episode of falling in love w my best friend lol it’s a universal sapphic experience). People who I can spend fun times with, who share my interests and stuff, because then I feel like I’ll be able to share myself with them. I dont show it outward often but I’m a huge nerd lmaooo

I’m currently double majoring in musical theatre and intl relations. Theatre is a lifelong passion and what I’m looking to make my career, I’ve been in a few productions and they’ve been the greatest experiences of my life. Intl relations is a niche little academic interest (also my parents wanted me to also get a “conventional” major) that combines all my niche little study interests: history, political philosophy and theory, and learning about the different cultures of the world.

I’m also a huge nerd for astrology and personality typology (mbti enneagram etc) I’ve been learning astrology on my own for two years now and it’s fascinating to me. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading birth charts (even have some mysme astrology headcanons) and absolutely LOVE learning anything I can about the subject. It is, to me, a way of understanding not just how people work but also the mechanisms of life itself.

I also like writing, reading, and playing games in my free time. Rn I’m into reading stuff like essays and poetry collections and stuff. And my favorite game to play (the only one I play consistently really lmao) is genshin. I like it’s aesthetics and the lore has me absolutely sucked in. I also sing a lot, and dance. As for activities I like to do: anything social. Going to cafes and bars, going to plays, (unironically) shopping.

I’d say I’m pretty aloof in relationships. I’m really bad at expressing my feelings for the other person, I tend to be a bit insecure on that regard. I like to keep my distance, both physically and emotionally lmao. I’ll talk about whatever with you but it’s hard for me to be actually vulnerable. I struggle with burying my feelings with work and other activities, or disconnecting from the emotional side of the issue by looking at the practical.

My friends all describe me as very funny and I guess I am. I like seeing the humor in things and often point it out, and I don’t take things too seriously at times. I’m also pretty hard to read, but I’d say that’s bc I don’t tend to trust people enough to be truly open with them. I would obviously love for that to happen, though.

It takes a lot for me to fall in love, but when I do, I’m always hooked for a long, long time. I’m like… offhandedly possessive, wanting to spend all day with the person. I also want to know everything about them, like discover them kinda. Tbh I’m not very experienced with love in general (but curiously I write about it a lot).

Anyway that’s all I think is relevant about me idk if it’s a lot or not hehe I’m curious to see the matchup. Love ur stuff!!

I match with you...

Jumin!

It may come as a surprise, or it may not. It's just something about your energy that says that the two of you would mesh well together in your romantic typing. It's because the two of you understand each other better than anybody else ever would. When you are easily misunderstood by other people, it's hard to find that one person who just knows what you're talking about. In this case, when the two of you make eye contact, it's easy to see that you are kindred spirits that have been lost from each other for some time.

You both trust but only when it is necessary. You know when to set boundaries and when to be wary of the people around you. You know how to control yourself in the moment even if the emotions inside of you are going all over the place. You're just the kind of person that needs somebody who can be strong so that you have a moment to be weak. In Vice versa, it would also be important. He never lets himself have a moment with his guard down so would you, it's nice to know that he can do it without fear.

With that said, it's not that hard to imagine that he would have a vetted interest in astrology because it's not all that far off from the dark magic that he normally likes to read about. There's a lot of overlap in these interests so it's something he knows. He may not be as well-versed as you but you can trust that he can easily keep up in a conversation and makes you feel like you have somebody who listens. It's rare to have somebody listen to you when you're talking about something that you're passionate about because people may not understand how much it means to you when you talk about it. He knows what that feels like.

[florence-is-gay]

hello! i hope you’re doing well :D i saw your pinned post about writing requests, so i’d like to request some lovesick headcanons? like how do they act when they’re just HEAD OVER HEALS for a crush, or their s/o, whatever’s fine. thank u :D

Hm, i more doing reader x merc oneshots but i like this ask so I'll give it a try!

Scout -

He's crazy dummy stupid. He loves u. Always utters complete nonsense when you're around cause he can't think straight. U make his head spin! He'll share his Bonk with you, and even show u his baseball card collection (very special!! No one else gets to see it!!). He gets so lost in your eyes, when you talk he just can't help hang off your every word like a lifeline! He loves u so much but he doesn't know how to express Just How Much he's in love with u!! Sometimes he cries when he thinks about u, but only in secret.

Medic -

He's a mad lunatic!! You're on his mind every second of the day! Some nights he can't sleep because your smile is ingrained into the folds of his brain! He'll sing and play his violin to you because he knows You're The One!! He writes songs about you, but he thinks you don't know that you are the very subject of his dreams!! He's crazy for u!! U are the reason he's so motivated to come to work and Do His Best every single day! He keeps a photo of the two of u in his office 😊

Engineer -

This man is in deep! He's always flustered when you're around, his face just redder than a cute lil tomato! He'll invite u over for home cooked meals on the regular! He'll make fun lil gadgets for you as a gift! Always super kind and polite. U always make his day! Your laugh is like a pure melody in his ears! He thinks about u every single second cause u drive him to LOVE TOWN!!

Demo -

Aye, this un's a MAD LAD. You make him feel buzzed, even when he's completely sober! He's always got an arm around u whenever the two of you are together! He tells u all his crazy stories bc he loves to see u smile and laugh. If this man catches u snoozing, u can bet ur ass he gonna bring u a pillow and a blanket! Unless ur location is not good for sleeping, then he'll gently move u somewhere quiet n comfy! You've left lipstick stains on his left side brain 💋

Spy -

Who thought u would be the one to make his shriveled heart shake? This gentleman is ALL romance! He's not afraid to express his interest! Expensive gifts? Check. Love letters and poems? Check! Bouquets of flowers? Gestures of affection and overly dramatic declarations of his love? Check, check, and CHECK! He'll backstab some bitches 4 u!! Hell, he'd even put out his cigarette to listen to u talk!! He wants to give u his undivided attention!

Soldier -

This man's heart jumps higher than his rockets when he sees u! The man that's normally loud and rambunctious is always on his best behavior whenever you're around! Though he also tends to get a bit protective over u! His thoughts of u motivate him to fight harder in battle! This man takes orders from NOBODY, but he'll do anything u ask in a heartbeat!! He'll call u "sweetheart" and "cupcake" and he'll mean it!

Sniper -

He's got a target on his heart, and Cupid's made a bullseye! He's got a bad case of tunnel vision, but only for u!! He doesn't talk much, but when you're around, he never shuts up! He always takes good care of his hygiene, because he doesn't want to be stinky around u. He blushes a lot when u talk to him, and he just can't stop smiling!! He sees constellations in your eyes, and every time he sees the stars he thinks of u!!

Heavy -

For a man of his stature, he sure gets flustered easily! He can't help how he feels, his heart is overflowing with love for u!! He always listens to what u have to say, and when u look a lil under the weather he'll bring u snacks and ask whats on ur mind!! He cares about u and wants u to know that U R SPECIAL!! He'll even let you touch his gun!!

Pyro -

This lil firebug is so full of love, he can hardly contain it!! He's bursting with sunshine and rainbows every second ur around! He hides his face when u compliment him, bc he's just so happy!! He will frequently give u Big Warm Squishy Hugs, because he wants to make sure u get all the affection you deserve!! He brings u all sorts of candy, but especially the ones he knows u like!! He also likes to draw pictures of u, but only in secret!! (It's super embarrassing...!) Gasoline used to be what fueled his fire, but you've set his heart ABLAZE!!

That is all!! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this, it's been sitting in my drafts for a while 😅

Edit: Make sure to tell me which one was ur fave to read!!

[mfingenius]

Hey, idk if you’re taking prompts rn, but I was wondering if you could write something where Draco was raised by Sirius, or Sirius and Lupin? Like Narcissa gives baby Draco to Sirius bc she doesn’t want him raised by death eaters (or maybe doesn’t want him raised by an abusive Lucius if it’s a no Voldemort au), and it’s drarry with Draco having a protective dad au? This is def in part inspired by your Weasley!Draco fic that I’m obsessed w rn 😬

“Draco,” Sirius says.

“No.” Draco says firmly.

“Draco,”

“Dad, I swear to Merlin-”

“Leave him alone, Sirius,” Remus laughs from the kitchen, where he’s baking cookies. “When he’s ready to admit it to himself, he will.”

“I don’t need to admit anything to myself!” Draco says, face burning. Sirius is sitting upside down on their couch, grinning brightly at their son. “I don’t like Harry!”

“Yes, you do,” Both of his dads say, Remus much more calmly than Sirius.

“Come on,” Sirius rolls his eyes. “You’ve been moping all summer!”

Draco’s face heats further. 

“I wasn’t moping!” He defends feebly, pulling at the frayed hem of his jumper. He’s wearing soft pajama bottoms and a jumper Harry gifted him when they were twelve. It’s been four years, and it still fits him too big.

“Oh, you were so definitely moping,” Sirius rolls his eyes with a smirk. “You spent hours waiting for his owl-”

“Did not!” Draco exclaims.

“Here, try this.” Remus has come into the living room holding a tray of cookies, and he hands Sirius a small piece and Draco another; he took it up as a way to relax before the full moon when they adopted Draco. He seemed to have a special radar for whenever Remus was in a bad mood, and he cried like mad - which did not help at all - until it got better, leaving him no other option but to find something that made him happy quick.

“It’s good,” Sirius says immediately, mouth full. “More?”

“No,” Remus says, putting the tray on the counter and sitting on the couch next to his husband. “They’re for my students.”

Draco gives his father his best imploring look. “I’m your student.”

Remus throws him an amused, exasperated look. “My summer students.”

He teaches Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts; in the summers, he teaches art and science in kindergarden. Sirius is the coach of the Quidditch Little League year-round, has been for years now, since he opened the kindergarden. He does it in the summer, too, since they have a summer camp.

Draco’s spent the better part of the mornings helping them take care of the kids, since Harry and his parents had gone to a holiday in Rome. The afternoons, he’s been spending at Hermione’s house, and the weekends with his uncle Regulus in his tattoo parlour. 

He’s the best tattoo artist in magical England, and though both of his dads have tattoos of their own, they haven’t given him permission to get one until he’s eighteen. Draco’s anxiously waiting.

“No fair,” Draco pouts. 

Sirius mirrors the pout. “We’re your husband and son, and you don’t want to give us cookies? Cruel, Moony, plain cruel.”

Remus rolls his eyes fondly at their antics, and summons two cookies from the kitchen to give to them, which immediately makes them smirk. “You’re both spoiled.”

Neither Draco nor Sirius bother denying it. 

“Come on,” Remus says. “You need to get ready for tonight or we’re going to be late.”

Sirius hums and stands, making his way to their bedroom; they’re invited to Fleur and Bill Weasley’s engagement party - Draco can’t go because it’s in a bar he can’t get into, since he’s underage - and Draco’s planning to spend the night watching muggle films on their telly. The only reason they have one is because they live in Muggle London - Draco’s never particularly understood why - and, although he can imagine the city to be more boring than magical ones, it’s his home.

Remus follows Sirius down the hall. Draco begins to flip through their film collection, and he’s trying to choose what to watch tonight, when the bell rings.

Draco frowns; he’s not expecting anyone - he’s literally in the oldest clothes he owns - and neither are his dads, that he knows of. It must be Alex, looking for their cat again. They’ve only had the cat for three months, but Draco’s already made friends with Alex because of how often it’s gotten lost.

“I haven’t seen Mrs. Fluffington, Alex,” He calls while he opens the door; insead of staring at Alex’s pale face and lavender hair, he finds himself staring at a deep red shirt.

“I’m not Alex,” He freezes momentarily at the voice, before looking up - and up, and up - and straight into Harry’s handsome face.

He looks him up and down a few times.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Draco says, irritated.

“Watch your mouth,” Sirius says as he passes by, which make’s Draco’s face twist in embarrassment. He hadn’t thought before speaking.

Harry laughs. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” He says. “It’s normal.”

“It’s not normal to have grown half a meter over the summer!” Draco says. He’s not used to having to strain his neck to look up at Harry; he’s not used to having to look up at Harry at all. He’s always been shorter than Draco is!

“It’s not my fault you haven’t grown at all,” Harry says with a cheeky smirk. Draco’s cheeks heat, and he sticks his tongue out at Harry. “Isn’t that the jumper I got you when we were twelve?”

Draco wrinkles his nose - he’d pleaded Harry wouldn’t remember that the second he’d opened the door - and says, “No.”

“It is,” Sirius says, from inside. “He sleeps in it.”

Draco turns beet red and Harry grins smugly. 

“When did you get back anyway?” Draco asks, dying to change the subject. He moves out of the way, and Harry takes that as the invitation that it is and walks in. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

“This evening,” Harry says. Draco shuts the door behind him while Harry greets Sirius and Remus. “I thought we could have a movie night. My parents are going to Bill’s and Fleur’s party, too.”

“Of course,” Draco swallows.

He wants to go change, but it’s a bit pointless now; plus, it’s not like Harry’s never seen him in his pajamas. They sleep at each other’s regularly, but now… well, Draco hoped that if Harry came back from a month without seeing him and Draco looked dashingly good - he has no idea how he hoped to achieve that, if his entire closet is made up of soft jumpers and muggle jeans, except for his dad’s old leather jacket - maybe he’d magically develop a thing for him, like Draco most definitely has for him.

It is hopeless now; Harry has already realized he’s just the same old Draco.

“Well kids, we’re heading out,” Sirius claps Harry on the back and then kisses Draco’s cheek. Remus does the same. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“There’s nothing you wouldn’t do,” Draco tells him.

He hears Sirius’s laughter even after they close the door.

“So,” He says, awkwardly. 

“How was your summer?” Harry asks, sitting on the couch, cross-legged.

“Fine,” Draco says. “I helped my dads at the Kindergarden. How was yours?”

“Rome was gorgeous,” Harry says. He’s grinning. “I brought you something.”

“Oh?” Draco hopes he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. He walks over to the couch and sits across from Harry stiffly.

“Yeah.” Harry says. He searches his pockets, and then hands Draco a small box. “Open it.”

Draco looks wary as he does so, but, when he does, his expression turns to amazement.

“Harry,” He says. “What is this?”

He’s looking up at the cieling, where thousands of tiny stars are shining, some brighter than the others.

“They were selling them in Rome,” Harry says. “Look at that,” he points to a set of specially shiny stars. “That’s Draco. The constellation. I thought you’d like it.”

Draco stares at him, eyes wide.

“If you don’t, I can take it back,” Harry says nervously. “I mean, I can’t, but I can keep it. I didn’t want to - is it too much?”

Draco swallows. “No,” He says. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

I love you.

Harry grins. “Good. What are we watching?”

As he reads film titles out loud, Draco swears to himself he’s going to work up the nerve to tell Harry how he feels about him.

Some day.

———————–

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[dragqueenpentheus]

Okay no one has to read this but i DO have to write it:

PYROC VS FATHER PAUL

Ya bitch needs an art break bc im getting angry about voices existing as i try to keep myself entertained. Today is NOT a god one for sinking into repetitive line work and that’s just about all i have on the table atm

SO! Im gunna do a little thinking about my little meow meows all fucked up by religion. Just a comparison for my sanity and interests. Pyroc is my baby i wrote him for the first time years ago. Five?????????? Whadda hell. Going on six.

ANYWAY john joined religion because of his trauma. His sister died and he felt lost. He was unmoored in this fishing village and looking for reason looking for hope. Hed had his heart broken and trying to make sense of tragedy on his own was totally beyond him. Thats why his interactions with riley in AA are SO good like. He knows that confusion and he knows the rhetoric that’s supposed to combat it. Only it dooesnt work for riley.

The same sort of thing happens for pyrc, only inverted. Loss urns him away from god and religion because its SO strong in his family and not only is he loosing trust in god, but his kin as well. He’s suspicious there’s mre they arent telling him, at the point of his fathers death. And he agrees to, on the surface, absolutely wholly throw himself in to being the second the family and the village need. But he’s keeping his treachery under wraps.

That’s one of the coolest things about father paul imo is like. That slow unraveling of what is. Frankly. An awful half assed plan, driven by fear and loneliness and desperation and dementia and love. Even VERY obvious things like. Taking down the newspaper photo of his young self ‘slip’ by him. I think, on some level, its DEEPLY intentional. He wants people to CHOOSE this. He wants people like bev. He wants people who see him and are in aw of him beating god. Of killing death. He wants to be worshiped and adored and for people to come to him willingly, no tragedy driving them to his arms.

Pyroc also wnats to be worshipped, but he ALSO wants to do the worshipping. He really longs for an element of almost????? But not quite??? Subjection?? He wants to be shown something and for a Great Voice to tell him, unquestioningly and unerringly that it is GOOD. Full stop. And then he wants to spend his life worshipping it. But this booko is an exploration of how….. no such thing exists. And more importantly no great voice exists either. There is nothing wholly good, nothing wholy evil. His lack of faith in himself once he becomes god is him starting to understand that as well. Thats on purpose baked into the lore. The starting point was ‘what if god was a position and in order to get promoted you had to be a murderer. No matter what’. He understands things are not wholly good, at that point. I onder how long it will be for him to realize they are not fully evil as well?

Bc pruitt does hm hm hm an interesting move. Where he takes something the narritve is very sure to communicate is EVIL no wiggle room just fact. Even if its driven by animal instinct its. Evil. And he makes it, not just good, but HOLY. And god i LOVEEEE that for him i ADOREEE that what a MOVE. Driven by desperation and dementia and relief and ‘if god saved me than maybe i can be good despite loving and sinning and maybe if i defeat god then i will be Thee Good’. SO sexy of him. Im really fascinated by his morality. He seems to have an understanding of the shades of grey in some respects??? But if he had a BETTER one with more forgiveness in his heart i feel like hed have left the church anyway after sarah was born??? Even if millie didnt ask him??? That might just be my own sensibilities creeping in but ….. like he culd have seen her on the weekends. He can do other jobs. Hes straight (??? Not totally convinced of this) he could have just dated her that makes me crazy. LIKE OBV HE HAD LINES HE THOUGHT THAT WOULD CROSS AND HE HAD INTERNALIZED THE CHURCH AND THE RULES AND SHE WAS MARRIED AND ECT ECT i know he couldnt have really but. Thye were straight. They coulda.

Im not gunna do fantasy homophobia bc i think its …………….. Boring. But i think some element of??? The vindlegaurd line MUST be passed along and for that particular rules must be applied. But thats also boring as hell :/ maybe i can work in my parthenogenesis lore?????????? I bet pyroc would love building that spell in any universe. That’s the sequal when he goes to magic university in helsin. But yeah i do like the concept that. Anyone can have a baby thru magic its just a time and energy commitment. Just a matter of wanting it enough together. Every baby is so deeply wanted and its mere existence is proof. Thats dope i love that. HMMM to be decided at a later date when im deeper into the story i think. I still havent figured out fully how and where and why orion is going to be invovled and if???? Pyroc and orion are even going to be romantic??????? Im torn im TORn…….

Thikns about john bonding w sarah over science and learning and starts wEEPING…. Like theres some surity beloved. Its just a matter of uncovering. I think sarah felt that same thirst for answers and hunted them differently. Her faith is in logic and science. I loveeee her god. Every scene w her and her dad absolutely RUIN me like!!!!!! SHE DOESNT KNOW!!! SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW LOVED SHE IS!!!!!! I hope at hte very end she saw the blood as the gesture of love it SO clearly was and not him trying to poison her. God i love that she spat it out. GOD. Thats about being gay, btw. Spits the religious offering that could save you across the gasoline soaked church floor like BABE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think we as a collective should talk about the possibiites around sarah/erin more. Bc their defiance combined would be. Earth SHATTERING for crockett.

In the future pyroc gets a kid. Ever since that campaign where Enemy ended up playing his daughter im like. How did i NOT know this idiot wanted nothing more in the entire world than to travel it with his daughter. I dont care how or why hes getting a kid. Hed be so doting and awful abut it. He would need orion as a co-parent for the kids self esteem to be normal levels. thINKS ABOUT PAUL GETTING TO RAISE SARAH AND JUST ABSOLUTELY GASSING HER UPPPPPPPP HANGING EVERY DOODLE SHE EVER MADE ON TEH FRIDGE. BOASTING ABOUT HER SCEINECE PROJECT OT ANYONE WITHIN EYESIGHT EVEN THOUGH ‘WE K N O W JOHNWE WERE ALL AT THE SCEINCE FAIR’!!!!!!!!!!! Let these fuck ups be doting fathers im fucking begging. That scene where paul is like. You take ccare of everyone on the island sarah. Its more than being a doctor. You comfort them.

HM HM comfort is such a thing for Miss Bitch like!! He sees it as a Good Thing. He tries to bring it for riley by asking to hold the AA meetings on island ((also manipulation. Obvously also manipulation. I wouldnt have bene shocked if he was slipping the vampire blood into the coffee every meeting either. But thats just a theory. A game theory.)) ANYWAY he sees comfort as hly. The church gave it to him when he needed it. The angel gave it to him in the cave. Feeling safe and warm is HIGH on his list of priorities and what makes him hand over respect.

I think pyroc has lived a very comfortable life in SO many ways, but in none he. Activly recognizes. A key part of his character arc his him…. Opening his eyes to the world around them. Seeing the privilege he has and being like. Wait. This isnt Right. We have to change thi. And when no one agrees ti shifts to I have to change this. With Violence. A little revolutionary <3 it only costs the life of his whole ass family

Thats more fun comparison ground like…… paul is SO much about I know whats right and there is a cost but i AM ignoring it. Like HE KNOOOOWSSSS he knooooows he just doesnt want o See. I’m not sure if im going to surprise yroc with the ……megadeath of. His whole family. Or if it’s a choice he has to activly make. I think a choice makes it more compelling, more layerd. It has to be in the moment though, becaus ei think thats. A key difference between them. Pyroc wouldnt do it.. hed just leave hed peace out and do what he could in small ways. But he wouldnt do his big stand off with god. Hed shrink his goals in order to not hurt his family. Out of love?? Intimidation?? Some instinct wihtin him that balks at the idea of disobedience??? I think even he doesnt know. But i LOVE john becaue he jsut decides to lie. He closes his eyes and says i am being stupid on purpose. I think thats PERHAPS more compelling than good guy coward pyroc BUT!!!!! Thats who he is rip to ths little man. Cant change him now hes a whole ass child in my head. The PLOT i can change. Him….. not without massive character development <3

UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MM set my brain on FIRE!!!! Im so glad nano is coming up. I love sharpening pyroc against the comparison of other AMAZING characters. Father paul hill my beloved millstone <3 anyway sorry to anyone who reads this its literally me unhinging my jaw and emptying my brain out. I had to write stuff that wasn’t novel or fic. A little character time down and dirty. I wil NOT be editing this love and light to future me trying to decode this

[sastrugie]

john entwistle biography review

ok so first: I didnt really like the biography because I thought it would focus on totally different aspects. John was a musical virtuoso and that hardly ever gets mentioned in the book. But we get exact axccounts on how much money he spent on what day and in which pub he bought which champagne. like wow thanks. The other personal stuff is basic who knowledge you can read in any other Who biography. His autobiographical bits were joy and fun! Maybe the only reason to buy the book in my opinion. He writes totally different than the author...

ANYWAYS: here my fav facts from the book that you probably didnt know before

this is the face of a man who -when his father gave him driving lessons for his 21st birthday as a present- decided driving wasnt really his thing and he spent the money on clothes and parties instead. He never had a drivers license ever and also never desired to have one 

the hospital he was born in, was bombarded and destructed one day after his birth

as a child he was really weak and thin and had basically every disease that existed

his family was poor af

his father left the family early and held contact with his son, but soon disappeared with a new family

his stepdad, Gordon, disliked John alot and would ignore him, hated everything John did or said and he let his bad moods out on Johns mother, which caused John to be very silent and observative around the house so that there wouldnt be any trouble

he did everything to please Queenie (his mom) so that there was no fighting, according to Alison

loved drawing and playing but usually alone since he had no friends apart from their dog

he heard a trumpet solo once from a trad jazz band when he was 6 or so and decided he wanted to learn the trumpet

my fav line of the book probably: “despite his own expectations, he passed the exams to go to grammar school” like same

at school he was bullied from the older boys but soon left alone by them because he would fight back with badass comments 

he applied for the school band for the trumpet but the tallest guy in the year was chosen (he was the 2nd tallest)  which made John mad, but he discovered the french horn

soon he found a friend, mickey brown, at last and he gave him the nickname “ent”

he was so terrible in P.E that he was dismissed with other pupils to play somehwere else, they were called “the hockey misfits” and guess who was among them: Pete Townshend.

yeah as you might know they became besties because they loved music and black humour.

he found himself a gf (alison) and Pete & a school gang (like 4 ppl) and his life seemed to finally get where it should.

his worst subjects were geography and german like wow (im a german geography student lmao)

once they played in a pub and johns stepdad was there and was super angry and gave john a list with his fav pubs and told him “these are the places I never want to hear your fucking music playing”.

after walking home pete decided to switch the guitar and john wanted to become a musician more than ever

Roger found him and John kind of convinced him (it took months apparently) to get Pete into the band and then it all started

he judged the beatles because John Lennons harmonica was “out of tune” in love me do, wow ok you nerd

john started smoking with 20 and was the last one to quit his job for the band and he was against drugs at first (bc he had a “civilized” job) but then decided to give a shit, dyed his hair black, bought cigarettes, smoked dope with pete and did speed too

he wanted to step out of himself and feel good about himself and he was always a fashionnerd so he started buying and trading and selling clothes (he once was dismissed from school bc he wore the school uniform incorrectly)

with 18 or so he was still living at home, had a toy soldier collection and a pet budgie

pete and his college friends made fun of john bc he wasnt a student and still lived at home, although john could have gone to college too and he wanted to, but his stepdad again said no and he had no choice.

he was very awkward and introverted but could open up with his music 

he was really into pop art (esp pop art clothes)

was a pseudo mod bc he only liked the fancy clothes and motown music

with the who he found a purpose in his life and finally could be different than ordinary ppl

hated when people touched his hair, he literally hated it

would fuss much about his hair in general

once after a concert they were starving and the room service was alreday home so they had to look on used plates and food wagons and John found a shrimp and said: “who wants to dine with me tonight?” (idk that really made me laugh)

keith moon was john entwistles soulmate and they were the cutest, most iconic and funniest duo ever end of discussion

his amps would soon be called little manhatten bc he had so many bc he wanted to be loud

he actually went to sing at church once when he was like 24 and the band made fun of him then he stopped

in the late 60s he bought a house with alison in a normal neighbourhood and went walking the dogs on sundays and stuff

but he was a party animal and always the last to go

he was really sensitive and cried often according to Alison but only in front of certain people

he would totally step out of his way to please people

when they played at the monterey pop festival they didnt bring their own amps along and john was furious bc he said the american amps are shit and kit was like “no” and john didnt talk to him for the whole festival until their perfomance was over and they had sounded like shit to tell kit “I TOLD YOU SO” thats how extra he was

when he got money he would spend it bc he was so used to being poor that he thought it wouldnt last long and he had to enjoy it NOW

he was always calm and everyone respected him and kit told a story where he entered the room and roger was at keiths throat and and pete was screaming something and john was sitting in the corner cleaning his nails. thats who energy

liked to dance at parties

his fav drink was rémy cognac with 40% and he would drink like 1 bottle alone everyday in his later years...wow dude

he was also gentlemanTM and once paid taxis for girls from london to brighton after a party

once at a wedding the free drinks were out and John just gave the barkeeper his creditcard and said he will pay for all the drinks of the night for everyone (it wasnt his wedding)

Roger once said: “John made smartass comments that deserved a punch in the face” sounds like him yes

he didnt really care about money and always wanted to pay and never told anyone how much things had cost and brought gifts for everyone

soon that ended in a shopping addiction tho and he bought ridiculous things for ridiculous amounts of money

when the who was inactive he sank into depression :(

held the band together during who by numbers & who are you

wrote and played all the quadrophenia horn parts himself

never lost his passion for art and always drawed alot, said Alison

cried when Christopher was born aww

once he saw their manager in an art museum and how he wanted to buy a painting but couldnt afford it, so John bought it secretly and shipped it to said managers home as a gift

We all know John was a huge collector. His most treasured collection was .. wait for it: teapots.

he tried to save Keith from being arrested once and ended up being arrested too lol

wanted to write a scifi concept album but desorted the idea and gave some songs to the who (905) or Pete

was a good cook apparently

When he gave a hug HE was the one who decided when to let go sdfghjk

hated confrontation and would hire other people to tell someone bad news

he spent so much money on dumb shit like wtf

but didnt really care either

probably the master in picking up and seducing girls

he let his stepdad live in the quarwood mansion when he wasnt there but Gordon was still an asshole wtf

the contact to his real dad was really sporadic

when the who ended, it hit him really hard and he didnt know what to do besides partying and buying stuff/hording stuff

was very insecure and selfconscious in the 80s according to Maxene :(

he actually took pete breaking up the who really personal and was sad 24/7

was that kind of guy that said bad stuff about the who but when you said bad stuff he would try to kill you on spot

with cocaine he felt really confident and still like the 60s/70s rockstar he once was but he didnt understand that these times were over and he needed to move on

sometimes went into random pubs with friends and made jam sessions for the guests

he still was generous and loving until he died and tried to play with other bands but it was not the same

he really liked Kenney and hung out with him more than with his wife at some point lmao

was a total giver and people who worked at quarwood would steal money from him but when someone pointed that out he got angry with that person for even suggesting that

was a real softieee (and a huge nerd)

all his friends said that he was shy at first but once you got to know him he would come totally out of himself, was very funny, loved to tell stories, was very very loyal and would try evertyhing to make you laugh aww

all in all a glorious story with a sad ending and he did destroy himself completely, but lets remember that Pete Townshend described old John still as "wonderful, mature and elegant” so lets cling on to that :)

[babiedeku]

hi! a request! so in japanese culture, saying "aishteru" is only reserved for couples with maximum level of romance? how about lets say its years after muzan's defeat, giyuu and reader live a peaceful life together. giyuu looks back at all of the pain and suffering he endured as a demon slayer, but his thoughts are focused to the happy moments with reader. being the airhead he is, he says "aishteru", and reader is shookt bec giyuu literally confessed his deep and unconditional love for her lmaoo

hi anon thank you for this request this made me really soft while writing it! im sorry that it took too long to write, but i hope you still like it! :( and i hope i did our boy justice bc it’s my first time writing about him. here’s soft!Giyuu for y’alls! - marianne

my requests are open!

Life truly is beautiful when you’re not off on missions and don’t have the impending doom of Muzan looming over your heads.

It’s been 5 years after Muzan’s death by the hands of the hashiras along with Tanjirou, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Kanao, and the now back to human Nezuko. He’s lost so many people in his life already and yes he still lost countless of friends, fellow demon slayers, and Oyakata-sama which was the trade off he never wanted, but their deaths were not in vain, because life was now peaceful and beautiful.

Giyuu looked at you beside him, you were reading one of the books that was given to you by Obanai and Mitsuri for your birthday recently, you looked so peaceful and soft all wrapped up in his arm, a small smile on your lips as you continued to read, already engrossed in the story. 

You were someone that he never expected to come into his life amidst the raging battles and the constant loss of important figure in his life - you were the one person who stayed with him all throughout the entirety of the nightmare Muzan has subjected everyone in the corps to. 

And despite the severity of the situation that was at hand before, your kindness and gentleness to those around you never wavered, instead it just seemingly increased tenfold. Such as that time when you were able to cheer him up unknowingly when he had just returned from a mission he had failed to accomplish, letting the demon get away.

“Giyuu-san,”

He looked up from his sword to see you smiling at him softly, you were fresh from a mission, having just returned last night as well. There were still some healing cuts and bruises that peeked through the collar and sleeves of your uniform, but nothing could ever make you less … pleasing to look at, if anything Giyuu finds it admirable how you were able to take everything in stride.

“I just wanted to drop by and give you this,” You gave him a neatly wrapped bento box that contained his favorite meal, simmered salmon with daikon. “I heard you last night over dinner whispering about how much you missed your favorite dish.”

Giyuu was unsure as to what to say to you, but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. “T-thank you, (Y/N)-san” 

Having you in his life was a breath of fresh air he never knew he was craving for. You were his rock, the only person to be able to fully see past his stoic expressions and silence. 

Giyuu never questioned your ability on being able to read his emotions accurately, and he will never question it, because he’s thankful that he doesn’t have to explain himself to you as much.

“We both know you feel guilty about what happened to Rengoku-san,”

Giyuu just looked at you, a little confused, because you stood by the door frame, with a calm look on your face. He could never understand how you could still be so strong in the news of having just lost one of your colleagues, heck, you were all family at this point. 

You both have just lost a member of the family and yet here you stood, calm and collected.

“I should have been the one to have been tasked with that mission,” Was all he was able to say, still not trusting himself with words, because he is not sure how to process these emotions that are bubbling up inside of him.

Crossing his room, you took a seat beside him as he gazed outside his window. “We all signed up for this with the knowledge that each mission could very well be our last. Kyujuro fought with his heart blazing to keep the innocent safe.”

A tear made its way down of his cheek, no longer able to contain his emotions.

Gently grasping Giyuu’s hand into yours, you offered him a soft smile. “He wouldn’t have traded his place with you even if it meant him keeping his life, he would have wanted all of us to take his death as some sort of inspiration to continue the fight against Muzan,”

Even when the nightmare was drawing to a close, you were still there by his side, ready with your warm embrace to shield him from the world, with your words to put his mind and heart at east, and you presence to make it known to him that you will never leave his side, and that you are more than ready to follow him into the fight once more.

He woke up with a jolt, gasping as he tried to make sense of where he was, but all he could see what the familiar decor of the infirmary back at their head quarters.So could that all have just been a dream?

Okayata-sama, Shinobou, Muichiro, Genya - ?

“Tomioka,” You were sitting beside his bed, reading one of the books that Shinobou left lying around in her office. Seeing how shaken Giyuu looked when he whipped his head toward you, and growing realization in his eyes as tears started to form, it broke your heart.

“No,” He croaked, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “please, no.” Giyuu knew it was pointless begging with you, because he knew it himself that no one could give back the people they have lost during the battle.

You could feel your own tears forming in your eyes, it hurt knowing that you have lost people whom you care for deeply and no longer be able to see them, but it also pained you to see Giyuu’s walls get torn down and finally break right before your eyes. 

Carefully climbing onto the bed with him, you wrapped him into your arms, his arm wrapping around your waist in a weak attempt to hold onto you. 

Giyuu is not a man of many words, and he appreciates that you understand that and don’t hold it against him in times that you seek his loving presence. You have mentioned that he shows his affection to you more so in actions such as compared to words.

And to think that despite the suffering he has endured in his life as a demon slayer, you were always there to shine your bright light to help him get through it and open up your loving arms to give him the warmth and affection that he never thought he needed.

There was a warm feeling in his chest, despite having been married to you for 5 years, he still has some difficulty pinpointing his emotions, and the smile that he just can’t contain whenever he’s with you.

“Aishteru,”

Beside him he heard you giggle softly, causing him to stiffen. Had Giyuu said that out loud? He’s always wanted to say it back to you, but not like this, he wanted it to be special and be said to you at a place that was of significance to you both. 

“I love you too, Tomioka, with all my heart.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear, kissing his cheek.

Giyuu, and he was fairly sure of it now, is the luckiest man on earth.

[skinks]

HELLO. DO YOU HAVE ANY SPARE DILFWORTH/MAGGIE HEADCANONS 🥺 (love your writing more than life btw)

HELLO, thank you so much! Oh boy it’s difficult to come up with more stuff for characters you’re really only extrapolating a couple of pages about, but I like a challenge so here are some to build on the other big Maggie/Dilfworth post I made:

- so after the Airplane Incident they’re so engrossed in talking at the baggage claim about everything from music to shitty first jobs that Went misses his bag going around the carousel three times. In his defence Maggie’s laugh is a breathless, staccato sound like a xylophone of breezes and she runs one hand over the back of her head to grip the ends of her own dark hair every time she does, so who can blame him for trying to be his absolute funniest in between grinning like a man who’s won the lottery. Also in his defence, Maggie doesn’t leave after she’s collected hers (they both go to grab it from the carousel at the same time and kinda stare at each other, then at their touching hands. Went licks his lips a couple times and says “Sorry, don’t uh. Don’t misunderstand, I was only trying to steal it,” which makes her laugh again) and Maggie doesn’t leave because she’s busy hinting she’d like him to come visit her on campus some time, maybe next weekend? They exchange their landlines and she says “See you then, Doctor Dentist,” because there’s something about his nonthreatening calmness that makes her feel very bold in trying to ruffle it up.

- their first date is to the movies, because it’s 1971 and what else are you gonna do

- Went has the best poker face she’s ever seen, and she’d already been teasing him about being a dentist so when he asks her what snacks she’d like, she replies with a long list of the sugariest kinds they have. But he only whistles low and raises his eyebrows, sauntering off to the concession stand before she can reel him back. They eat all of it between them, and Went spends the whole movie muttering scathing put-downs about the poor choices the characters keep making and it’s the first time Maggie hasn’t ever cared about being shushed by the people in front of her

- also also also he picked her up in his car (and she’d also teased him about how she’s sure he could only drive a convertible bc he’s so tall and leggy that anything else would leave his knees up by his ears, but it’s not a convertible. It does have a sun-roof though, and after the movie they go driving, as Young People do in 1971 I guess and he’s like “Sorry the roof doesn’t fold down, I know you’d look great doing the whole Audrey Hepburn thing,” and Maggie just eyeballs him as she slides the sun-roof back. Then she’s standing on the bench seat and whooping, sticking her torso out of the roof like it’s a carnival ride and Went’s like 💕😬💕 as he holds her steady with one arm (over her dress, it’s the first date) for her dear, dear life

- I love the idea that Maggie likes sci-fi, for some reason. She loves Star Trek TOS, loves the music, wants to try and obtain a theremin for her thesis project. The first gift Went ever gives her is a signed copy of The Left Hand of Darkness when she takes him to an Ursula LeGuin talk at her college, and Maggie kisses the daylights out of him against a tree right there in the quad

- Went likes fishing and baseball and photography and fuckin... comedy records and he definitely got bullied at school for being a skinny nerd. Doesn’t have too many friends given that he’s moved cities and is generally kinda quiet, but Maggie’s friends like him. More importantly, Maggie likes him a lot, likes the endless antelope stretch of his legs when he props them up on any surface available, the lean lines around his mouth, likes how the veins on the backs of his hands form warm diamonds around the indents of his knuckles, likes that when she says “oh damn, is it raining?” rhetorically in the car at the first few drops, he rolls his window down and sticks his hand out into the wet and says “yes, Maggie, it’s raining. Wipers or no wipers, what’ll it be?” She likes to be the person he trusts enough to be silly and wry and sincere with. She likes to buy him records based purely on the cover art alone, she likes introducing him to classical music and she likes to drive his car so he can look at the maps and stick his head out the roof, and she likes that the wind makes him look like a cartoon blown up with dynamite, because he’s somehow always just in need of a haircut, and she is so, so scared he will be ensnared by the draft now that he’s left academia, as it has ensnared so many of her other friends.

- She makes fun of it, but she likes his name, “I like that Tozier has a z in it, of all things,” she says once. “I don’t know, it’s unusual. I never heard of a Tozier before.” And Went says, “Last of my kind. Like Tigger, in fact. You’re lucky you ever caught me in the wild,” as he very studiously and ineptly investigates her electric keyboard. She calls him Went most of the time, Legs when she’s particularly hot for him, but they do also have a lot of Wentworthy/Unwentworthy jokes.

- the first time they have sex is because they’re six dates deep and Went has yet to hear her sing.

- they’re lying top to toe in Went’s bed while they’re both studying (Went might be practicing dentistry now but he still has paperwork and journals to read) and he’s tapping her crossed ankle along to something she’s humming. “What’s that song? Maggie?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you sing it for me?”

“Oh, no,” she says, covering her face with her book. “No, it’s just some rock song, ignore me. I’m being disruptive to the study environment.”

Went waggles his eyebrows, examining the whole bare sweep of her legs. “That’s for sure. C’mon, you’re minoring in vocal studies, aren’t I going to hear you eventually?”

“Nope,” Maggie grins, and enjoys how warm his hand feels cupping the sleek of her calf muscle. “I’m shy.”

“The Maggie Avery I know isn’t shy, unless I’ve been wooing an impostor for the last nine weeks.”

She laughs and flutters inside, like her whole body is filled with whirling pillowfight feathers at the thought of being wooed, being courted, being allowed to exist as an interesting person and not just a skirt to be chased. At the fact that he knows how long it’s been and that he counts it in weeks, because even though they telephone a bunch, they can still only see each other at the weekends. Yeah, Carole King said it best. He makes her feel like a natural woman, alright.

“Wooing me.” She sets her book aside. “That’s what you’ve been up to?”

“Yes,” he nods, sitting up to mirror her, cross-legged. “Wooing.”

“Wentwooing,” she says, biting her lip. These games always prick up the hairs on the back of her neck.

“Damn straight,” he says, and oh, those dishy lines are breaking in lean waves around his smiling mouth. She’s a total lost cause for them. “Wooing was one of my very first Scout badges, actually.”

“Oh, so you’ve had practice?” She leans away in faux-disinterest, and her breathing picks up from somewhere deep in her body as he sways forward into the gap, like he’s charmed. She’s very aware of her heartbeat in odd places, pinking her bare heels pressed to the sheets under her knees, loud in the scoop of her clavicle. “I’m not the first to be subjected to a little Wentwooing, then, huh.”

“Not the first, no,” he allows, mild and reasonable as ever. No wonder he did well in medical school. She knows she’s not the first girlfriend, of course, just as he knows about her last ex and the others, and that’s the wonderful thing about him. He doesn’t act like other twenty-two year old boys she knows, he’s a grownup about it all. “But... I’d really dig it if you were the last. Maggie.”

She can’t stop smiling at the way he says it. Casual, contemplative, the look of a man who has cast his line and is happy to wait. It’s belied by the sound of him compulsively cracking his knuckles and the bones in his long bare feet. They’d both thrown on comfortable clothes after coming in from the rainstorm, and Maggie never knew it was possible to feel so at ease alone in a man’s room, a man’s apartment, a man’s spare boxers and faded varsity rowing tee the only things between that same man and her pretty underwear.

“I’d dig that too, Legs,” she says, and tucks her hair behind her ear to kiss him. He untucks it again and kisses her back with a heated mmph, touching her hip and her hair at once. Very light touches, but there’s something about them that makes her feel like he’s got her wrapped up completely. She swirls her arms around the back of his neck and deepens the kiss, as deep as she can manage with the way their knees are obstructive, and at the dragging quiet click of spit, Maggie finds she wouldn’t mind if he touched her firm and wanting all over, sometime soon.

She pulls back to see him flushed, his glasses kinda screwy. He makes a low sound, a sort of cross between a sigh of satisfaction and a groan of regret that their mouths aren’t still moving together. Both of his hands fall to her crossed legs, and he patters fingertips to her skin.

“I got that badge in Boy Scouts too,” he says breathlessly, after a second or five.

“No wonder you’re so good at it,” Maggie says, and raises three fingers in a salute. “Lots of practice around the campfire, hm?”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe,” he chortles, saluting her back. “It’s a testament to your feminine wiles I’m even interested, what with my restricted training.” He gestures at her breasts. “We never covered those.”

“Liar, you had them pretty well covered last week,” Maggie teases, her inner thighs burning as she shifts at the memory, the back row of the Aladdin Theater, her tongue in his mouth and his big, gentle hands up her shirt.

“Earned my badge.”

“Well and truly.”

“We should get to work on uncovering them, then,” Went replies, tugging softly at the hem of his shirt she’s wearing, but his eyes don’t stray from her face.

“Wentworth!” She shoves at his hand, laughing again. She has a paper on syncopation due on Friday and a performance to prep for the end-of-semester recital, but she couldn’t care less right now. Lord, she’s so happy. What if it’s love, she thinks giddily, what if I love him, and he loves me. What then?

He dodges her play-slaps to take off his glasses because he only needs them for reading, and it’s just another layer falling away from between them. He’s not Doctor Tozier, he’s not that fucking geek, in the sullen-drunk words of her project partner Jack at a party last month, he’s just... Went. Just a man, as she is a woman. He’s cute and he’s acerbically funny and he makes her feel like they’re partners in some kind of crime, even though neither of them have so much as a speeding ticket. Maggie comes to a decision.

“Alright. I’ll sing the song for you,” she says, climbing off the bed.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, I actually—oh, here it is.” She rummages in her bookbag and produces the 7” single from its cardboard sleeve. “I bought it on Tuesday and forgot all about it, I was going to show you earlier. Such a dunce.”

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that,” Went says, shuffling back on his crossed legs to sit against the headboard. He looks genuinely eager. “She’s finally singing for me, don’t knock her confidence. Though, I guess we’re not getting any more studying done. Duncehood looms for the both of us.”

Maggie straightens up from the record player and unclips her hair until it falls in a dark torrent around her face. She shakes it out, feeling the strength of her voice build in her chest, feeling like she’s on fire from the glare of a stage spotlight. Getting into the mindset of a song is an important part of performance. “Would you rather study? We can study if you like.”

“No, no,” Went says evenly. His face is pink again and his eyes are very dark, watching her. “I think I’d much rather do this.”

So Maggie sings. The record cranks to a crescendo on the choruses like a runaway train and Maggie loses herself in it, closing her eyes and dancing. She’s an elegant dancer to classical music and an awkward one to rock and roll. Went is even worse, the pair of them clunking their bodies together at parties like a game of marbles because it’s funny that way, it’s funnier with two. But she tries not to feel silly, because she knows her voice is good. People tell her so. She knows it’s so, and she’s proud of her very own instrument nestled in the nave of her throat, and she wonders why it had been such a nerve-wracking prospect to let Went hear her sing. Perhaps it’s because she holds it so dear. She doesn’t know when his opinion became so important to her, but it is. The sound thunders up easily from her chest, controlled and so fluid she can almost visualize it leaving her lips like a stream, so controlled she can let the control a little loose whenever she wants to wail along with Marc Bolan, like the only rockstar in an oversized preppy shirt, get it on, bang a gong, get it on.

The record scratches to a close but she doesn’t feel finished, there’s still breath left in her yet. She segues easily into one of Went’s horribly cutting and clever comedy records, so she has an excuse for her face burning. It’s not because she can’t open her eyes and see his reaction, it’s because she’s singing about smut, of course. Every brush of the hems of his borrowed shorts against the ticklish backs of her legs, is felt. Her hair is thick and warm and her scalp is starting to sweat with all her uninhibited bouncing. Eventually she gives up and collapses to the bed, giggling and breathless. She buries her face into the covers feeling more ridiculous than she normally does in the vicinity of his generally impassive nature. He’s stable, somehow without being boring. It keeps her on her toes at least, that damnable poker face; she actually takes great delight in the way she finds herself coming further and further out of her shell, just to try and call his bluff.

“Gosh, I hope your neighbors like T-Rex,” she mumbles. She’s crouched with her knees and hands huddled under her, waiting for her fearsome blush to subside. Waiting for him to say something. She’s aware of his quiet presence at the headboard, just as she is so suddenly aware of the way his soft tee is riding up her hunched form, exposing her lower back to the fresh night air. “I’m—I should send them all an apology note for disturbing their Saturday evenings.”

“You should be charging them for the privilege,” Went croaks.

Maggie looks up at him, sharply. He stares back, still cross-legged with his hands stuffed down into his lap and a dazed expression on his face. She kneels towards him, feeling the residual magic of the music spark powerful deep through her body, between her legs. “You think I’ll pass vocal performance?”

“Jesus Christ, Maggie,” he says, unfolding his endless legs so she can straddle them. His hands are restless against her hips, moved from where they’d been hiding the thick line in his shorts. “And all this time I thought you’d been hiding the terrible secret that you’re actually a bad singer.”

She laughs against his neck. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, just awful. I figured you must be a banshee or something.”

“You did not, don’t joke!”

“I never joke,” he grins. He kisses her harder than before, restless hands squeezing at her ribcage, her thighs, just below the hemlines. Maggie presses her hips forward and grips fiercely at his ropy upper arms, gasping. “I’m deadly serious, that was—you’re a knockout at everything, it’s hardly fair.”

“Went.”

“Mags, I’m obliged to tell you I have one hell of a crush on you.”

“Went.”

“I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend,” he says, and Maggie’s stomach flips at the rare note of bemused, painful sincerity in his voice.

“Went, you can uncover them now,” she says, and shimmery heat floods between her thighs as he ruts upwards, abruptly.

“Sorry,” he pants, “what?”

“Take my shirt off, please. And I have a crush on you too, you dunce.”

He does as she asks of him and says, “Jesus Christ,” again, and a whole lot of other curse words and sweet things and silly nonsense that makes her laugh more than she’s ever laughed doing this with someone, and afterwards his hair looks the way it does when it’s his turn to stick his head out of the sun-roof.

He rolls off to collapse beside her. As soon as they catch their breath he says, “I’m gonna bring you breakfast in bed. Right now.”

“It’s 11pm!” Maggie wheezes, watching him stagger naked from the bedroom. The sight of his narrow waist flaring up into broad, bony shoulders is unbearable, now that she knows how it all feels between her legs and rippling under her hands. It makes her voracious for more. She aches wonderfully in all the right places, just like a good callisthenic stretch should.

It was quite a stretch, she thinks, and shivers, turning her head to breathe into the sweaty tangle of her own loose hair spilled across the pillow.

“Eleven is technically almost morning, isn’t it,” he calls back, clattering in the kitchen. “Plus you’ll need the energy, because we’re doing that again immediately. If you want to, of course,” he adds hastily.

“Of course,” Maggie snorts. Her cheeks ache too, from happiness. “We’ve got badges to earn.”

- anyway

- Her mom likes him too because he’s a dentist, Margaret, but her dad thinks he’s a hippie with a fake diploma because he still has sideburns lmfao. Went’s parents like Maggie, but it’s a lot to do with how she tries so hard to make them like her. She’s like, shaking by the end of day 1 of her first meeting with them like “I just don’t ever want you to have to choose,” and Went (absentmindedly fiddling with an old toy robot, they’re staying in his childhood bedroom) is like “Don’t worry, I’d choose you any time. I mean, I’d have to kill them but I’m sure they’d understand,” and Maggie’s like “I’m serious!” and Went turns to her and says, “So am I, Mags,” and then wraps all his long stick insect limbs around her refusing to let go until she’s laughing again

- He’s also very neat, he does all his own ironing so his work tunics are just right. More than once Maggie and her two roommates come back to the apartment during weekends to find him standing in socks and boxers and ironing piles and piles of everyone’s laundry, and he refuses to believe Maggie that this is weird. She thinks back to her old boyfriends who could barely flush a toilet and thinks hm, maybe it’s not so weird

- for the first few years of living together after they get married they can’t choose sides of the bed. Like, it changes all the time. “This is intimate anarchy,” Maggie says, after their tenth night in a row of switching. “I’m sure this is what the Summer of Love was all about.”

“Oh, I thought it was about cunnilingus,” Went says brightly, slotting a bookmark into his copy of Jaws and turning off the side lamp. “My mistake. Goodnight, love.”

“Wait!”

- Went comes into the delivery room after Richie’s born, looking more shaken than Maggie herself, ashen and stressed. “I could hear you screaming from out there,” he whispers, kissing her forehead and jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, bloodshot eyes locked on the swaddled bundle on her chest. “Darling. Oh, Maggie.”

“We’re alright now,” she says, hoarse. “I was just letting him know however loud he is, he gets it from his mother.”

“Him?” Went bleats, his eyes so wide. He still only needs his glasses for reading. “He? It’s a boy—we have a—”

“A son, yes,” Maggie says, and wipes at her cheeks. She’s had quite enough fluids on her face for one night, thank you. “Here, take him away from me before I lose my temper with him again.”

She nearly starts crying again when she sees how tiny the baby—Richard, that’s right, they’d decided on Richard for a boy—how tiny he looks in Went’s big, capable hands. They manage not to wake him in the transfer and Wentworth cradles him against his collar for a moment, looking lost. Then he seems to come back to himself, shooting Maggie one of his big, crinkly grins (and God, she’s still a lost cause) as he addresses the consequence of their actions.

“Did you do this?” Went whispers into the blue folds of blanket, pointing one free finger at Maggie. “Look what you’ve done to my wife. How dare you. She looks terrible.”

“Shut up,” Maggie laughs, as quietly as she can.

“She looks terrible and more wonderful than ever,” Went continues in the baby’s ear. “Is this your doing? We’ll make a good team, I think. Between the two of us she doesn’t stand a chance, by thirty-five she’ll be too beautiful to look at and then she might get some peace and quiet.”

“You’re delirious from the thin atmosphere, Legs,” she says. “Give him back, if you drop him from up there he’s done for.”

“I won’t drop him,” Went insists, “you had him for nine months, let me have a turn.” He holds onto Richard while she sleeps, but not before she grabs at his arm and sobs thank you for him, Went, thank you, and Went cries a little too and says what are you thanking me for, I’d get a participation trophy at most, which makes her laugh and say, if anyone deserves a trophy for their participation technique it’s you, and then she falls asleep before she hears his reply.

- they play so much rock and roll for Richie, Maggie makes up her own songs for him and sings to him all the time. Maggie only had older sisters, and Went was an only child so neither of them have very much experience with babies, but Maggie’s friendships with Andrea Uris and Sharon Denbrough from the neighborhood and from book club help a lot, they all seem to have wound up having their firsts in the space of a few months. She values language too much to baby talk Richie, and Went would be clueless as to how to begin, so pretty often she finds him deep in conversation about politics or baseball with Richie babbling in his high chair.

- as I said before, I hc that Maggie speaks maybe French and Italian, and Went finds it incredibly sexy. He can’t reply, of course, he just babbles along in Richie’s ridiculous Voices, it’s basically the Swedish Chef but French or Italian. He calls her Marguerite if it’s French, and Margarita in Italian (“That’s Spanish!” Maggie hoots, stroking his hair back at both temples where it’s frosting to silver already, and clasping her hands around the back of his head. “What do margaritas have to do with Italy?”

“Not Margarita,” Went says. He traces a line between all the pretty moles on her chest, sweeping down between her breasts to the one just beside her navel, the soft little rise of belly that sits in the cup of her iliac crest. That spot always flicks her hips forward with ticklish heat, and if they’re not careful then Richie might end up with a baby sibling Maggie’s not quite ready for yet. “Margherita, like the pizza. You’re cheesy, sweetheart.”)

- both of them smoked but Maggie gave it up when she got pregnant, and now Went doesn’t smoke inside the house. He of course gives it up for good after he gets cancer of the larynx in his late 50s when Richie is 30, which makes Richie quit too

- they love their son and just want him to be HAPPY even if they’re sometimes misguided about what would make him happy, but hey, so is Richie

[mxsinistir]

May I request a Good Omens Gabriel x Human! Reader please?

Pairing: Gabriel x [y/n]

Warnings: n/a besides the fact that the bad writing ™ becomes worse writing ™ towards the end bc it’s 2 am while I’m writing this. 

Summary: Freelance London Photographer [y/n] is friends with the bookshop owner Aziraphale, and happens to be sitting in one day when a mysterious stranger enters to have a meeting with her friend. Suspicious, this artist is ready to find out as much as she can about the man. 

Word Count: 2390

(tried to keep this gender-neutral but tell me if I screwed this up anywhere bc I probably did)

Hope you enjoy!

***

The first time you met him was whenever you were inside A.Z. Fell & Co., discussing a book you’d just read and returned (since you were aware he despised the permanent purchasing of his collection) over two cups of hot chocolate.

The moment he entered, you were intrigued. You turned your head to watch him saunter in, and some part of you screamed deafeningly that whatever he was, he did not belong here. That was saying something since unusual people were not uncommon in the little London bookshop. You’d known Aziraphale’s eccentric friend Crowley for quite some time now. 

“Aziraphale,” His voice was hearty, one you should have taken comfort in hearing. But in addition to his picture-perfect, incredibly fake smile, it set your nerves on end. “May I have a word?” Part of you decided this was your chance to run from the off-setting visitor, but that would leave your friend alone with him.

“Hi, I’m [Y/n],” You shoved a hand into space between you, “I don’t believe we’ve met before.” He looked you up and down, your eyes unwavering until he met your stare. His eyes - your stomach flipped, oh god his eyes - bore into yours, and you nearly recoiled when you noticed the color. A glassy purple with no signs of contacts. Just unexplainably rich violet that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Gabriel,” He said, shaking your hand with a grip that was just a little too strong. You were too proud to coddle your sore hand, though. “I need a moment with Aziraphale.”

“Sorry, can’t,” You couldn’t leave Aziraphale with him! What if something happened? You’d picked up that Aziraphale had been involved with some sketchy people before, and what if this guy happened to be a well-dressed gang member? Well . . . well dressed wasn’t exactly the way to put it. You didn’t know what look Gabriel was going for, but it just added to his overall wrongness. 

Besides, Aziraphale and Crowley had always remarked on your excellent intuition. Warning Aziraphale about bad customers, giving Crowley advice on problems he hadn’t explicitly explained, knowing that both your friends were thinking at a given time - and at this time, Aziraphale felt very, very anxious about Gabriel waltzing into his shop.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” He half-snarled, his fake smile faltering. 

“My bike got stolen earlier,” You explained, casually turning to drink the rest of your cocoa before it went cold. You also needed something to hide your growing smile. “I told the police to drop it off here when they found it.”“Are you sure you didn’t miss them during your chat?” He said, “I swore I saw a bike parked in the front.” You stepped past him, putting your nose against Aziraphale’s window. Sure enough, a blue bike was leaned against the glass pane. 

“Well, silly me - Guess they just left it and had better things to do.” You laughed, turning back to smile at Aziraphale and Gabriel. “See you later, Zira!”

You walked outside, planning on walking home. You weren’t going to take some random bike from in front of the bookshop just because some guy had snapped and made it appear for you.

You didn’t own a bike. 

***

The next morning, before you even had the chance to ask questions about the purple-eyed man, Crowley had come into your studio, mentioning that he was bored, due to Aziraphale’s sudden occupation with work. Aziraphale had never been truly busy since you’d known him. 

“Crowley, do you know a Gabriel?” You asked, not looking up from the photo you were currently editing the lighting of, trying to decide if you could amend the conflict between the clashing color palettes. If anything, Crowley just hoped that you were too occupied with your work to even notice that you opened your mouth to ask the question. A few seconds ticked by, and then you stared up at the redhead. 

“Yeah, I know him.” He said under his breath, “He’s a friend of Aziraphale’s. Definitely not a friend fo mine. I’d keep your distance.” 

“What does he do?” Even without being able to see his eyes through the glasses, you sensed the panic in them as he proceeded to mumble out an answer. 

“Paperwork,” He steadied himself, easing into the lie now. “Some company Aziraphale used to work for. I think he’s kind of a jerk, but he and Zira go way back, so I don’t intrude.” 

“Funny, I thought the bookshop had been family owned for a hundred years?” 

“Part-time job, maybe?” Crowley stammered out. You just rolled your eyes.

“Is Aziraphale in . . . is he in any danger with this guy?”“What? No, no, [Y/n], you’re just being paranoid.” You weren’t so sure. You’d never heard Crowley so nervous about the subject of someone, and you’d certainly never heard of him willing staying out of Aziraphale’s affairs. It was common knowledge that he was the nosiest man in London, especially when it came to his friends. “Seriously, Just stay out of his way and it should be fine.” He had a certain voice he used when he wanted you to believe things were fine, even if they weren’t.

“I’ll just ask Aziraphale since apparently, you won’t explain.” That little taunt was usually enough to make Crowley spill everything. Not for this, apparently. “He listens to you, Crowley. Just make sure he doesn’t get hurt.” 

Just because he didn’t say the promise doesn’t mean she didn’t see him make it.

***

The second time you saw Gabriel wasn’t at the bookshop, but on a bench in St. James’ Park. You were currently looking over some pictures you’d taken of the vibrant area, the photographs dotted with jogging passersby and fluffy ducks that reminded you of Aziraphale. You stood up to walk by, snapping a few more when your camera focused in on a not-quite-familiar face.

“Gabriel,” You said, curiously approaching the benched man. “Fancy seeing you here,”

“[Y/n], is it? Aziraphale’s . . . acquaintance.” Who the hell used the word acquaintance anymore? You thought. “Is there something you need?”

“Just came to clear my eyes - I’ve been staring at this one picture I took for Aziraphale last week.” You briefly explained how one of the customers had split their coffee on one of Aziraphale’s old wall paintings, which he had sat on the table to clean the walls behind it. He had been furious, and though you knew you couldn’t possibly replace the expertly preserved painting - ruined by only human clumsiness - you’d offered to gift a photograph to him. Though he was obviously still disgruntled over the lost air, he did say that even something modern would eventually become history. You’d gotten to work. “I’m supposed to bring it to him this evening.”

“I was planning to speak with him this evening as well, actually.” The man remarked.

“Well, if you wanted, you could com toe hang out at my studio for a while.” You had a feeling that no matter what, this man would try to keep up appearances. Meaning he would accept your offer, even if only not to appear rude. Thanks to some information you’d gotten out of Crowley, you now knew that you wouldn’t be in any real danger as a human inviting him to your studio. He, on the other hand, wouldn’t be expecting the onslaught of questions you had for him. 

“That sounds great,” He said with clenched teeth, and so you just smiled and packed up your laptop and camera equipment, making sure to walk beside him all the way back to your flat. 

The square footage wasn’t much - you were honestly surprised you could manage to fit two people inside at once. Beyond that, every inch of the place was stacked high with frames and camera equipment and printed portraits. Your bed was usually just the couch by the window, and even then, you more often than not just fell asleep at your work desk, head draped over crossed arms. 

“I’m gonna be a little bit - I’ve gotta play with some finishing touches, and then I’ve got to print it.” You explained - Aziraphale had given you a faux-gold 18 x 21 frame, nearly identical to the one bordering the ruined painting. “You can sit on the couch if you still want to hang out. You okay with music?” You asked casually, bringing him a glass of water. You may be suspicious of him, but your mother had always stressed the importance of hospitality. 

“Do you like music?” He thought for a moment, staring blankly before nodding as if he’d been assessing whether or not it was the correct response to say so. “Queen?” He looked even more confused but nodded again. You synced your Spotify to a small speaker and set it to shuffle, sliding into your chair as We Are the Champions began to play. You snuck a glance over at Gabriel while mouthing the words and concluded he was possibly the only person in the world who didn’t know the lyrics. If anything, that just confirmed your suspicions of the man. 

Gabriel, on the other hand, was just as confused by you as you were by him. When you’d first met, he hadn’t known how to react to you. You’d stood up to him with no background knowledge, purely because you thought he had ill intentions towards your friend. Humans were always willing to throw themselves at things for no reason, but you were different - you had a reason, and that reason was nothing more than intuition to protect those you care about. 

And now, you’d carelessly brought him into your apartment - if he could even call it that. It was a glorified storage closet, filled to the brim with art and junk and beauty. He’d never been exposed to such a mess; heaven would have never tolerated it. He couldn’t even imagine that Hell was this chaotically organized. 

He could barely focus on that. How could he anymore, when there was you to look at? Smiling truly and losing yourself in the music blaring, snapping your fingers with bad timing, singing the guitar riffs, and constantly standing up just to pace around while mouthing the lyrics. 

You walked around him more than a few times, asking him random questions while leaning far back to see what your photo looked like from afar. He eventually saw that it was of an eggshell white duck in St. James, curiously floating alongside a dark goose that had landed in the waters. He could have scoffed at the symbolism, wondering if you understood the irony of it all yourself. 

Gabriel had never seen so much life in one plac.e It radiated from you, from your camera, from your fingers. It felt raw and unexplainably human, and not in the way that disgusted him with its mediocrity. There was nothing mediocre about you. You oozed with some sort of high that no angel could ever dream of finding themselves on. Angels were too flawless for something as uncontained as the day-to-day life you lead.

During the middle of one of your lyrical outbursts, you glanced over at Gabriel. He was drinking tea now, staring out into London from your window, sunbeams casting over his dusty hair and stunning eyes. Without a word, you pulled your camera in front of you and stepped towards him, snapping photos of him a quick succession. He whipped around at the sound, just quick enough to see you smiling. 

“Stay where you are - the lighting’s amazing.” You said, steadily walking closer to the man. He truly was a vision in an element like this. You leaned back to observe the picture he’d found himself in. “Do you think you could give me one with your wings?” 

And just like that, you watched the Archangel Gabriel freeze to the core as you shuttered a few more photographs. 

“Come on, everyone knows Aziraphale isn’t human.” And of course, there was no way Crowley could keep a secret like that once he was sufficiently drunk. “And besides, humans don’t usually make this pretty of muses.” 

He unfurled his wings gently, being careful not to knock over anything. All three pairs appeared in pristine, white condition, though when the window light scattered them, they reflected a spectrum of glistening violet. 

He nearly asked to confirm that you were human, though he knew the answer. No one but a human could accomplish this - a demon nor an angel could live in such harmonious chaos with their own little world, dancing to the raw beauty of it all and flourishing in the flaws you did not perceive as such. 

Gabriel had never felt love - a sort of ‘love for all humanity’, of course, but not the thrumming in his heart he felt now, looking at you in your element, high on the artistry of what you saw in him. On what no one else had ever seen in him. 

“I could have a photoshoot with you, you know.” You said, looking at your camera screen. “You look great on camera.” 

“There’s still a few hours before I need to meet with Aziraphale,” He lied - he was two hours behind schedule, not that that mattered. “He’d told me about this bakery beside his bookshop that he apparently adores.” He didn’t even like food. It didn’t matter - he figured you would. 

“Am I being asked out by the Archangel Gabriel?”“That’s strong wording-”“I’m famished,” You smiled, and as you walked over to your computer, he expected you to print and frame your imperfect perfection. Instead, you just saved the photo and eased your computer shut. “I can make something here, though. I don’t want to leave. Does the Archangel Gabriel want to watch a movie?”

He was about to make a snarky comment about your sarcastically calling him that, but he paused as you did the unexpected. You settled down on your couch right next to him and smiled. That was enough for him to decide that his meeting with Aziraphale could wait till morning. To hell with Heaven questioning him - him of all people - being off schedule. He would deal with that in time.

Right now, all that mattered was that he was sharing in on an artist’s high, and he wasn’t ever coming off.

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Thanks @rupzydaisy for tagging me!! <3 !!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

okay so. i went for actual fics posted on ao3 and now just the many one shots posted here, tho there’s one for the one shot collection but you get the point

Favourite Opening Line:  

Golden light filled the streets of Morocco and two women walked there as confident as if they could command the very sunlight to their will. would you have it any other way? The Old Guard, Andy/Quynh, basically just the movie but Quynh’s there the entire time. i love this one because i let myself write a long sentence lol and idk i love the image bc that’s how i would’ve described Andy in that first shot of the movie but then just imagine the power they’d have if Quynh was there too???

bonus:  Their story began with a crash. one day at a time The Haunting Of Bly Manor, Dani/Jamie, because i just like it :D

Patterns:

I can see that years ago an English teacher told me that unlike in Spanish I should keep my sentences in English very short. And now this happened. We should make one of these but for second sentences. i swear those are so good, much better.

11/20 include a name and 6 of those it’s Andy. Apparently i need you to know there good days, rainy days, and nice days. No more days, just beautiful nights. How is it that literally none of these were dialogue?? Also let’s discuss those titles bc 7/20 include (parenthesis), 12/20 are song lyrics and literally 5 of those are florence and the machine lyrics. Also, looks like i enjoy making an emphasis on the fact that you’re just starting to read a new story, because  there are 4 “first”s in the first sentences. also i’m happy this showed pretty much all my fandoms, ocean’s 8 is missing which is sad but hill house kinda fits with bly manor so that’s okay

All:

Andy got upset when she watched the news. (also same, Andy, same) Extremely Uneventful Subject The Old Guard 

At first sight, the scene could have been interpreted as normal. (spoiler alert: it wasn’t) Don't You Know? (That I'm A Moon In Daylight) Birds of Prey

It was a particularly beautiful night, the sky was clear and full of stars that would leave anybody breathless. Andy and Quynh One Shots The Old Guard

Marla Grayson fondly shook her head as soon as she walked out of the hospital where she left Roman Lunyov in recovery. the last shred of truth (in the lost myth of true love) I Care A Lot

Helena Bertinelli was nine years old when tragedy took over her life, leaving an everlasting mark. Stay Safe Together (Escape Death Forever) Birds Of Prey

Their story began with a crash. one day at a time The Haunting Of Bly Manor

Andy got down from the car and slammed the passenger door behind her. my heart (is like a haunted house) The Old Guard

Golden light filled the streets of Morocco and two women walked there as confident as if they could command the very sunlight to their will. would you have it any other way? The Old Guard

Most times, when Andy had to visit James Copley’s office, she found it amusing.  (i swear) i thought i dreamed her The Old Guard

It all started on a rainy day not too long after their reunion.  Proof The Old Guard

Quynh had left her house as soon as she’d been entirely sure everyone else was asleep.  come with me, loving me, to death The Old Guard

There were good days, of course, they were. (so that’s a typo i think??? idk) Let It Happen The Old Guard

Andy finally found her.  Night Blooming Flower The Old Guard

All things considered, Andy thought, it was a nice day.  Oh, my love, don't forsake me The Old Guard

Andy realized she had been right.  Fire, help me to forget The Old Guard

Quynh didn’t enjoy staying indoors.  Loveable The Old Guard

They were somewhere in Italy.  Being with you (Makes the flame burn good) The Old Guard

The first one to notice the marks was Héloïse’s mother. (Don't) Leave Me Alone Portrait Of A Lady On Fire

The first time the Birds of Prey fought together… it could have gone better. Don't you know I love you? Birds Of Prey

The first day was a rainy one. Room 28 Portrait Of A Lady On Fire

tagging: @lilolilyr @cryhardanddanceharder @andy-the-scythian @moonlightandromache @coffeebeannate i uhhh i don’t if you guys have done this already and also sorry if i forget any fic writers mutuals! i’m a mess and i just impulsively did this lol

[mortuarybees]

What books do you recommend me to read?

I’m not sure what your tastes are but I’ll tell you some of my favorites! To be quite honest, I mainly return to the same books over and over again so the list is rather short and I doubt I have anything to recommend that you won’t have heard of already. I’ll recommend my favorites. It consists mainly of my usual rotation of things i read over and over or books that left an impression on me and I refer back to them often.

When it comes to the non-fiction section just like….keep in mind that most academic texts have many, many problems and I’m not presenting any of the texts I list as The Quintessential Must Read Best Flawless Overview of a topic, I’m mainly listing the books I have found to be approachable and reasonable introductions to topics. Read everything critically, always (and that includes everything else on this list, not just the non-fiction).

Plays:

An Oresteia, translated by Anne Carson (Aeschylus’ Agamemnon, Sophocles’ Elektra, Euripides’ Orestes)

Iphigenia in Tauris by Euripides

I mean like. Shakespeare, obviously; my personal favorites are Hamlet, Twelfth Night, As You Like It, Julius Caesar, and Macbeth; recently, thanks to the productions starring David Tennant, Much Ado About Nothing and Richard II have been added to the list

Doctor Faustus, Edward II, and Dido by Christopher Marlowe

Antigone, particularly Anne Carson’s translation, and after you’ve read Antigone, I’d recommend reading Antigonick, but not before

Lysistrata by Aristophanes

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (I feel like Lady Windermere’s Fan is also kind of necessary reading and I do love it of course but I’ve only read it the once, for the sake of it, whereas I’ve come back to the Importance of Being Earnest a million times and the 2002 movie is one of the things I watch when I’m down)

Novels (and Epics)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett if you haven’t yet, obviously

Maurice by E. M. Forster

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

VIRGINIA WOOLF. everything but particularly the Waves, Orlando, and Mrs. Dalloway. The Waves is my favorite, followed closely by Orlando, but I’d start with the Mrs. Dalloway because it gets you accustomed to Woolf’s writing style and the way she approaches her characters if you haven’t read her before.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (If you haven’t read it yet and you have seen 2005 P&P and love it and you’re opening the novel with the expectation that it’s similar to the 2005 film in tone and feel, you’ll be disappointed. If you’ve seen the 1995 miniseries, that reflects it very well. So just approach it with an open mind with 2005 on the back burner and you’ll find it an amazing and very repressed love story)

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore

The Iliad (the translation I own is Lombardo. It’s extremely approachable and colloquial and I enjoy it, and if you’ve never read the Iliad and you find it intimidating, I would very much recommend it, but my high opinion is not universal. Fagles and Lattimore are very popular translations and I like them both well enough)

I’m dying to get a copy of Emily Wilson’s Odyssey translation. I don’t love the Odyssey personally but I am a big fan of Wilson and from what I’ve read about her translation and what she’s said about it, if anything could make me enjoy the Odyssey, it would be that translation.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. I would personally recommend reading the Iliad first just because Miller takes…….liberties with it, but I also don’t think there’s a problem with that at all, so if you’re not interested in the Iliad, or you think tsoa would get you interested in it, there’s nothing at all wrong with reading it on its own or reading it first. I just think it’s a genuinely more enjoyable experience to read the Iliad first and then see what Miller does with it. And regardless of what order you read them in, if you read them both you will understand how very different tsoa and the Iliad are from one another and you will not be one of those people who talks about the Iliad when what they mean is tsoa. Again, there’s nothing wrong with tsoa, it’s one of my favorite novels, but it’s just a very separate thing and it gets just a little maddening.

Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson. It’s both poetry and a novel but it’s got to go somewhere so

When I was 14 I got very into Les Mis and i will recommend it. I genuinely love it and it will always have a special place in my heart. I have read the entire brick only once however because as much as i love it. as much as i Relate to the infamous off-topic tangents. there is a limit to my patience.

The Epic of Gilgamesh is just like. extremely good. I really don’t know enough about it to recommend any specific translations; in high school I was given a stapled copy of the whole thing and I read that til I lost it and now if I want to reread it or refer back I just look it up online. I’m a fake fan.

Poetry

If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho translated by Anne Carson

The Beauty of the Husband by Anne Carson

Devotions, Felicity, and Winter Hours by Mary Oliver. Those are the anthologies that I have read and I adore them. I imagine that all of her anthologies are also amazing and all of them are on my to-read list. I don’t think you could possibly go wrong

I do not have the singular published collection of Elizabeth Siddal’s poetry (My Ladys Soul) but I have read all of her poetry and she is an amazing poet and I hold her very near and dear to my heart

Crush by Richard Siken

Useless Magic by Florence Welch……..yall knew what you came here for

Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake

Non-fiction and Essay Collections (again. None of these are recommended as the definitive, end all, be all, all-you-need book on any given subject, they’re just some of my favorites). I have limited myself to collection specifically because this is long enough already and if I start just adding essays it’ll never end. All of these were either purchased online for under $10, are available somewhere on the internet as pdfs, or were at my library, so if you look, you can probably find them somewhere (I say this bc while trying to find the authors of some of these I have been stunned by their retail prices and I’m assuring you, don’t be scared off by your initial search bc I sure as fuck did not pay $30):

Citizens: A Chronicle of the French Revolution by Simon Schama

Marie Antoinette: the Journey by Antonia Fraser (controversial but well-researched and approachable and I love it. I would recommend reading like. almost anything else first because Fraser does obviously focus on Marie Antoinette and her life and experiences; and while she does talk about the revolution, it isn’t the focus of this biography, and you won’t understand why it was necessary if you don’t come to it with a good grasp on the broader events outside Marie Antoinette).

A Day with Marie Antoinette by Hélène Delalex

Robespierre: a Revolutionary Life and Liberty or Death: the French Revolution by Peter McPhee

The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution by C.L.R. James

If you’re at all interested in 18th century art, I recommend Rococo to Revolution:Major Trends in Eighteenth-Century Painting by Michael Levey

A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn is controversial. But it’s approachable and well-researched and if you don’t know a lot about American history, I recommend it highly (especially for Americans).

Eros, the Bittersweet by Anne Carson (okay literally everything by Anne Carson. All her essays, her poetry, her translations, her weird mashups, all of it. There are a few things I haven’t read yet but. I very much doubt you’re going to be able to go wrong, so just take what I’ve listed as my favorites)

This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. The Climate and the Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein

Black Against Empire: The History and Politics of the Black Panther Party by Joshua Bloom

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: and Other Lessons from the Crematory and From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death by Caitlin Doughty (also the illustrations by Landis Blair are absolutely phenomenal. Look at this. I love it so much I pulled it out of the book to hang in my momento mori corner because it’s so beautiful.)

The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan

Alexander of Macedon by Peter Green is. okay we have a love-hate relationship, me and this biography; me, and peter green, but I have major issues with every single Alexander biography I’ve read and this was the first so if you want to start somewhere, I guess go for it.

The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison

The Honey Bee by James L. Gould. It’s out of date in some respects but a good, simple introduction into honeybee biology and behavior

Before the Deluge: A Portrait of Berlin in the 1920s by Otto Friedrich

Vanishing Bees: Science, Politics, and Honeybee Health by Sainath Suryanarayanan and Daniel Kleinman

Out of the Past: Gay and Lesbian History from 1869 to the Present by Neil Miller

Holy Madness by Adam Zamoyski isn’t by any means perfect, but it’s a alright introduction to the Age of Revolution. Just don’t let it be the only thing you read. It’s here because it has a special place in my heart as my introduction to it.

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Erotic Exchanges: the World of Elite Prostitution in 18th Century Paris by Nina Kushner

Radical Love: Introduction to Queer Theology by Patrick S. Cheng

Our Lives Matter: A Womanist queer Theology by Pamela R. Lightsey

Our Native Bees: North America’s Endangered Pollinators and the Fight to Save Them by Paige Embry

At the Existentialist Café by Sarah Bakewell (I really do not know that much about philosophy or existentialism specifically or this subject generally, so I have no idea where the faults of this book are, but I really enjoyed reading it and it made me think a lot. I have a feeling it’s very simplified so take it with a grain of salt as I did?)

Walden by Henry David Thoreau (just. just. it’s enjoyable but don’t get too into it please for the love of God). My copy (and I think most copies?) includes his essay Civil Disobedience as well which is very good.

Never Caught: The Washingtons’ Relentless Pursuit of Their Runaway Slave by Ona Judge

The Uninhabitable Earth by David Wallace-Wells

The Diaries of Virginia Woolf: I’m currently in the midst of volume 2 (1920-1924). They’re very enjoyable, but they’re something of an undertaking as all diaries are if you aren’t already very familiar with the biography of the person in question, so like. If you find yourself moving slowly don’t worry about it.

Gay Berlin: Birthplace of a Modern Identity by Robert Beachy

To Be Broken and Tender: A Quaker Theology for Today by Margery Post Abbott

The New Jim Crow byMichelle Alexander

The Environmental Case: Translating Values into Policy by Judith A. Layzer is a textbook that was assigned to me in my Enviornmental Policy class last semester and I really fkcing enjoyed it. It’s a book of case studies in environmental policy and it’s dense at times, but really interesting and enjoyable.

The Second Amendment: a Biography by Michael Waldman

Michelangelo’s Notebooks: the Poetry, Letters, and Art of the Great Master by Carolyn Vaughan. Just like. Genuinely. Genuinely. unintentionally hilarious. but also sometimes very sad, and very gay. I just adore Michelangelo. Just a shy foul-tempered repressed disaster. Jesus Christ.