#indian readers club

[booksperience]

(via Silent Reading Clubs at Panampilly Nagar)

Silent Reading Clubs at Panampilly Nagar Something amusing occurred on a recent Saturday at Panampilly Nagar Central Park in Kochi. Kochi Book Reading Club had organized a readers’ gathering for silent reading at 4.30 PM. This marked their fourth meetup since the group’s inception just a month ago. However, on the very same day, a new group called Kochi Reads had scheduled its inaugural gathering at 4 PM at the same venue. People who had seen the announcements from both groups arrived and commenced the silent reading session. Those who had noticed the Kochi Book Reading Club announcement assumed that the gathering was affiliated with that particular group. Likewise, those who had seen the Kochi Reads announcement believed it was associated with their group. Consequently, two distinct groups gathered at the same location and sat together, silently engrossed in their own books, entirely unaware that there were two separate groups. Nevertheless, it didn’t significantly impact the activity, as each participant became absorbed in the book they held, regardless of the book club’s name. Nevertheless, I do wish that both groups would consider merging, as it would be a better arrangement... (Read full text on booksperience.org)

[gguk-n]

can you write lando norris x desi!reader!gf where they go back to celebrate ganesh chaturthi, and yn hosts ganapati bappa in her own house in india and its lando's first time pleaseee

Festive Hearts

Jalebi- dessert made of flour or flour and rice flour fried and dipped in sugar syrup. Kurta Pajama- Indian attire for men made of various material which includes a tunic and a loose fitting pant. Shalwar Kameez- Similar to Kurta Pajama but for women. Pooja- A Hindu ritual of worship.

I'm not an expert when it comes to this so please forgive me if there are any discrepancies

Lando and Y/N had been dating for a while now, long enough that her family knew about Lando, he was very well loved. That's how he ended up in India during Ganesh Chaturthi. Lando wasn't there on the day Ganapati Bappa was being brought into the house due to the race. He got there a few days before the immersion. Lando was like a kid in a candy store. Everything was bright and vibrant. The whole house was decorated in flowers and lights. There was always delicious and new food for him to eat. "Babe, my trainer's gonna hate me" he told his girlfriend while munching on his third jalebi. "These are delicious. Do you eat these every day?" he mumbled with food in his mouth. "No, Lan, no one eats these every day." she laughed. "Your mum keeps handing them to me, I don't know how to say no." he looked at her apologetically. Y/N called her mum out to stop feeding her boyfriend.

There were a lot of Formula One fans in Y/N's home town which meant Lando got recognised and asked for pictures and autographs. Y/N's family was the one hosting Ganapati Bappa this year in their community. So, there was always a crowd of people going in and out of the house, and now Lando brought another crowd along too. But he wasn't complaining, he wanted to get to know the people that got to see his love grow up.

On the day of the immersion, Lando was dressed in a white crisp Kurta Pajama and his girlfriend wore shalwar kameez. The family had woken up early and were busy in preparation since the auspicious time was during the mid-day. Lando could see his girlfriend running around trying to get the things ready for the ritual. Y/N's dad handed Lando some flowers and desserts for offering and asked him to put it away. There was this energy that was running through everyone's veins as the time drew closer. A sense of emotions over took them, it was like watching your family leave for some time.

There would a huge procession leaving with Ganapati Bappa after the Pooja. There would be songs and people would dance along the way from the house to the sea, where Ganapati Bappa would be immersed in the water. Y/N's siblings took Lando along with them to dance. Y/N had only seen Lando dance in clubs and now she could see him dance along with her siblings, learning as he went. It was a beautiful sight with Ganapati Bappa over looking everyone as they partook in the celebrations. "He's a keeper" her mother said. Y/N jumped from surprise. "When did you get here?" she asked. "Just now" her mother replied fondly looking at Lando. "He has really been trying since he got here" her mother spoke more to herself. "To get everyone to like him." she hummed. "Do you like him?" Y/N asked expectantly. "We liked him when you said you loved him" her mother replied. Y/N smiled at her mother and decided to join everyone in the celebrations.

After everything was done, and everyone returned; the house in disarray. Her mother started cleaning up while the others joined. Finally, Lando laid on the cot in the courtyard exhausted from the day's events. Y/N sat near his head playing with his hair. "Do you guys do this every year?" he asked looking up; "yup" she replied. "This is so much fun but I've never been more exhausted in my life and I've driven in Singapore." he chuckled. "You'll get used to it" she hummed, checking around before pressing a kiss to Lando's lips. "Spiderman kiss" Lando mumbled as he placed his hand on her neck pulled her closer. Y/N's mum coughed making the pair pull away, a blush visible on their cheeks. "I get you two love each other, but there's still some cleaning left" she said while the two whined and Y/N got up to help her mum. "Rest for some time and then join me" she told Lando before pecking his cheek and walking away.

Sorry this was short, I felt kind of lost.

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fanfic)

Chapter 2

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. No warnings.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

……………………………………………

A few hours later that evening, when Jobe checked his phone, he found two notifications from his brother.

Two messages sent, 15 mins apart, but both deleted shortly after. He decided to ping him to check in.

Jobe: Hey wassup?

Jude: Hey. Just about to crash.

Jobe: Anything playing on your mind? Nervous about tomorrow?

Jude smiled at his screen before answering. The answer was yes, in more ways than one.

Jude: A bit, yes. Yet, I can’t wait for tomorrow to come. It’s strange but, y’know what I mean?

Jobe: It’s warranted I guess. First Classico of your life, that too at home. Would be intense. But exciting too.

Jude: Hmm.

Jobe: Should I ask Mom to call you? She would anyway call tomorrow morning, though.

Jude: Nah let it be. Let her take care of Aunt Tracie. I know she wanted to be with me here for this but that’s important too. I am anyway gonna crash soon.

Jobe: Good luck for tomorrow. Kill it.

Jude: Thanks mate, need the luck. Talk to you soon.

He put the phone down, dimmed the lights and pulled the blanket all the way over his head. After tossing and turning for 10 mins, he checked his Whatsapp again.

No message from her. But she was online. Her DP was super cute, he thought. A sun-kissed photo on a beach in a yellowish floral dress.

Jude: Reached safely?

He went with the only segue he could think of. 45 seconds later, blue tick.

Ananya had reached just a few mins ago. One hour’s work took over two coz she just couldn’t focus. And she actually ended up getting stuck in the rain, just as he had predicted.

Just then, his name flashed on the phone. Reminding her that she hadn’t hallucinated all this. Her roommate was blasting music loudly in her room, in the weekend spirit. If only she knew what happened, she would die. Roma was an Indian American, who had never really lived in India. She was her colleague at work and as big a Madridista as her. They had hit it off instantly during the internship last year.

Ananya: Hey, yes I am home. Thanks for checking in :)

Jude: Super :)

She tapped her thumb on the phone screen, thinking whether her next question would make her look silly. But she decided to ask anyway.

Ananya: Is there some of..dress code for players box? I see a lot of people dressed in suits and formals.

Jude: No no, those are the corporate / business guys mostly. You can wear whatever you want.

Ananya: So, I can wear my jersey?

That brought a big smile to his face.

Jude: Ofcourse, dove! In fact, I would insist you do that :)

Instead of asking which jersey, rather whose jersey she was gonna wear, he tried a different tactic.

Jude: I could get the latest season’s one sent to you before the match.

Ananya: Nice try. But I have a favourite one I am planning to wear. You can guess whose it’s gonna be.

Jude: Can I change your mind?

Ananya: From now to tomorrow evening, I highly doubt it.

Jude: Is that a challenge, dove?

Ananya: Don’t you have an important match to focus on tomorrow?

He sighed.

Jude: I do. Really should have crashed by now.

Ananya: Think about how dreamy tomorrow would be. Even the ride through the training ground to the stadium would be nuts - thousands of fans on the streets. We need you well rested and charged up, and I am speaking on behalf of all fans when I say this. Close your eyes and get your beauty sleep now.

He chuckled over how quickly she switched from her own self to a fan representative.

Jude: Are you working for Carlo on the side and not telling me?

Ananya: Maybe, who knows. Good night, Jude. Sleep well. You would be amazing tomorrow.

Jude: Thank you. And Ananya?

Ananya: Yes?

Jude: I can’t wait to see you in my box tomorrow, cheering for me. Good night, dove!

With that, he finally put his phone down, snoring softly in a few mins.

But she ended up staring at her phone for a good 15 mins. The last line. Him calling her dove. Dear lord, what even was happening? This made no sense. They had nothing in common. This was not logical at all. The surrealism of it made her pinch herself a few times. She looked back at his DP - hugging his mom during his signing, both with a big smile. It was so sweet. Everything about him was so sweet. So normal. How could it be?

She shook her head and went to her roommate to break the news. Roma didn’t believe her at once but when she saw the passes, and a few messages from him as she practically snatched the phone away from Ananya, she jumped around like a 5 year old girl on a sugar high.

Ananya just laughed at her friend’s antics. She kept her anxiety on the Jude situation aside for a moment, at Roma’s insistence, and the two just celebrated getting to watch a Classico tomorrow. And, to see Zidane up close. The joy of the moment took over the nerves and they both jumped on the bed, hugging each other. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Next evening, they reached well in advance, not wanting to take any chances with traffic or queues. The players box and the attached lounge were luxurious - the girls checked out the place thoroughly, sampling the appetisers and drinks. 30 mins later, when the girls went back to their seats, Ananya found a few unread messages popping on her phone. They were from him. She held the phone close to her chest, so others don’t see the name, and clicked on the messages.

Jude: Reached?

And then, a from few mins later.

Jude: Came out for warmup. Didn’t see you in the box. Stuck somewhere?

She quickly typed the response.

Ananya: We are here. Sorry, lost track of the time while checking out the place and trying to get Zizou in a selfie frame. Not so much a selfie but us trying to get an angle with him included, while he was having his croissant far away.

Blue tick. Immediately.

Jude: Haha, he’s a nice chap. You could just ask him for a selfie.

Ananya: Considering I ran away when he looked in my direction, don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.

Jude: (laughing emoji)

She was still feeling guilty for missing the warm-up, so she decided to send him two photos. The first was the half selfie with Zidane, and the second was her in the box with her three friends, with the field as the background.

There was silence for a bit. She thought he must be getting ready to come back on the field, so she started checking her insta and added the two photos. The fan groups she were a part of would go nuts at this, she already knew.

Two minutes later, his name flashed again.

Jude: Who’s that guy in the picture with you?

Ananya looked back at the picture in question. It was her, Roma and her two work colleagues. The girls had invited them too. They were all standing next to each other, hands casually around each others’ backs as they posed with big smiles. Jude must be referring to Arjun, she figured, as he was the one right next to her.

Ananya: He’s my colleague. Well, they both are. You had sent 5 passes so Roma and I asked them. Is that a problem?

She wondered if she had overstepped the invite somehow and bit her bottom lip as she nervously saw him type.

Jude: Is he with you?

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

Ananya: I mean, I just said all three of them came with me.

Jude huffed in frustration, staring at the photo again. He could tell it was meant to be a casual photo but the guy’s hand was too comfortable on her back and too close to her waist. Something about him immediately irked Jude. He just hated his guts.

Jude: But he’s not WITH you right?

It was her turn to get annoyed now.

Ananya: Jude, seriously? Right now?

She jumped when the phone rang. It was him ofcourse. Roma looked at her curiously and Ananya rushed back into the lounge to escape from prying eyes. She found a quieter corner and answered the phone.

‘Before you say anything, I have 30 seconds after which I have to rush into the tunnel. You have every right to be mad but can you pls answer my question now and I will make up for this behaviour later? I don’t wanna go to the field like this.’

The mix of earnestness and child-like hope in his tone somehow assuaged her annoyance.

‘Please?’

She sighed audibly on the line and he looked at his teammates who had already started exiting the dressing room.

‘No, he’s not WITH me like that.’

She could practically hear him smile at the other end.

‘Thank you. I knew it but just needed to hear from you. And like I said, I will make up for this. Gonna score for you, dove. And later tonight, gonna apologise when I see you.’

His teammates were calling him in the background now, everyone was in the tunnel. He got the last sentence in before he absolutely had to hang up.

‘After the match, meet me in Pavillion 2 Parking lot, Pillar 4. It’s only for the players, no media or fans would be there. It’s a private exit from the back so no one would see us together. Then we can have a quiet dinner. Come down when I ping you. Yes?’

Another long, audible sigh at the other end.

‘Ok.’

She could again hear the darned smile.

‘Won’t wish me luck?’

‘Good luck, Jude. Now go, please. The anthem has started playing.’

‘Keep your eyes on me. See you soon. Bye.’

With that, he hung up and rushed to join his team, and got some looks which he totally deserved. But that was a small price to pay.

Ananya ran back to the box, not wanting to miss the anthem. She was a fan, first and foremost, and this was a big match. Hala Madrid Y Nada Mas blared at full volume. The girls stood up and sang along, waving to the beautiful melody.

Just then, the team stepped out. Serious game faces on. Her eyes scanned the whole team, marvelling at seeing them all only for the second time. Finally, her eyes landed on Jude, who was standing at the end of the line. And Roma elbowed her in the ribs just then because guess what? He was looking up at the box.

When he spotted her, he gave a slight nod in her direction which only the two girls could decipher. But very quickly, the game face was back on. She could tell how focused he was for tonight.

It was a tough match, heavily competitive, like any Classico. Barca were marking Jude really well, given he had been the most destructive force of Madrid in the first few months. He was getting frustrated but kept at it.

The group soaked in the riveting atmosphere. And the girls fangirled over many notable people in the VIP box. Nadal was quite an animated viewer in person which they were amused to see.

But mostly, they sang along for every chant, every song that was reverberating in the stadium. And the view was just perfect, not like when she had watched from the stands last year.

She did find her eyes going to Jude many times. Gosh, he looked fit. And played marvellously. He really was a vision tonight.

And just like that, first half was over. The atmosphere was tense as Madrid was down 1-0. The coaching staff rallied the players back to the dressing room, to regroup and strategise for second half. They were definitely going to get an earful for the set piece defending. She couldn’t look away from Jude as he walked off - he looked disappointed, angry yet still determined. He walked with intent, already talking to the coaching staff on the way.

The crowd started discussing different nuances of the first half as the highlights played on the 360* screens.

She pulled out her phone and sent him a quick message.

Ananya: There is full second half to go. As they say, 90 mins at the Bernabeu is a long time.

There was a blue tick but no response. She figured he would be busy, as he should be at this time.

The second half began soon after. Both teams went at each other but Madrid was playing with more aggression now. More pressing, more tackles, more forward movement.

And 20 mins later, out of nowhere, from way outside the penalty box, Jude scored a long range screamer.

The crowd went berserk, as did the boxes. Nadal nearly stood on his chair and waved his coat. The girls hugged each other and screamed their lungs out. The whole squad and the coaching staff ran on the field and ambushed Jude.

Once they dispersed, he raised his arms to the fans, pulling out his trademark celebration. And the fans sang ‘Hey Jude’ with love.

As he was walking away, he did sneak in one look towards his box. Nothing too obvious for the cameras to catch, but she saw the slight nod again. He knew she could see him on the 360* cameras and would know it was meant for her.

Roma saw it too. And dug her nails into Ananya’s arm.

‘Girl, is this real or am I in a trance? Did he really just do that?’

‘Honestly, I am asking myself the same question.’

As it turns out, he wasn’t done scoring for the night. In the penultimate minutes, the man scored a winner from close range.

The noise in the stadium was deafening. Some fans pulled their shirts off while others cried with joy. The two girls jumped from their seats and kept jumping for a good minute.

The celebration from the team was worthy of a Classico winner. Jude and Vazquez did some mental dance and then Rudiger tackled them all to the ground. Later, Valverde jumped on Jude who caught & held him with just one arm.

‘Pretty boy is strong too, huh?’

Roma whispered in Ananya’s ear, making her flustered. She nearly wanted to retort saying if Roma was just realising that and not during the match when he outmuscled all midfielders in duels.

Before she could say anything though, he did that sign with both hands, looking towards his thighs. The crowd roared back at him.

Ananya found herself paralysed in her seat as Roma elbowed her violently.

‘Maybe he’s giving you a message’

Ananya buried her head in her hands as Roma continued to tease her endlessly. Even with her fluster, she couldn’t help notice how the arrogant confidence suited him perfectly on the pitch.

Soon after, the final whistle came and the fans roared again along with the anthem. The team took a lap around the stadium, thanking the fans for their support. As they were walking off, Jude looked up at the box and his gaze lingered for a few seconds.

He looked away just at the right time, before the cameras caught his gaze. Ananya sighed inwardly - she had been worried about this all evening but thankfully it didn’t look like anyone had caught a whiff.

The rest of the group went to the lounge to grab a bite before leaving. She stayed back in the box and took in the atmosphere some more.

When Jude managed to check his phone 10 mins later, it was buzzing with messages. He checked the ones in his family group first and pinged them that he would call soon. Their happiness and support was the biggest reason why he did what he did.

Then, he looked for another name, and giggled with joy to see an unread message.

Ananya: Congrats. That was a special performance. You guys made the fans very happy, especially you. Savour the accolades, you deserve them.

He smiled from ear to ear, re-reading the message a few times.

Ananya was in the washroom when her phone buzzed again.

Jude: Did I make YOU happy?

Ananya: Very much so :)

Jude: Am I forgiven for earlier, then?

Ananya: Mostly, but not fully.

Jude: Ooh tough crowd :)

He sneaked into the shower to quickly call her from there, as the dressing room had erupted with champagne and food fights and all kind of hip hop jazz performances.

She picked up instantly.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey, sorry for the background. The lads are losing it. I am gonna need 20 mins more to take a quick shower and meet you downstairs but given the mood outside, might become 30. But I definitely will make it down in 30. Would that be ok?’

‘Yes ofcourse. And hey, don’t cut down the celebrations. These are the moments to cherish. In fact, if you just wanna hang with the team..’

He didn’t let her finish.

‘Are you mad? I have earned, EARNED this dinner with my blood, sweat and tears. No way I am giving that up. Nu-uh.’

She giggled at his theatrics and he giggled back at her.

‘Ok. Gotta go now. The sooner I wrap up here the sooner I see you. Sending you the car number. Will ping you 5 mins in advance. The parking lot is a bit secluded but it’s meant to be that way. It’s perfectly safe so don’t worry when you walk down there. I will anyway pick you up in 30 seconds of you being there. Ok? See you soon.’

‘Cool, see you.’

‘Bye, dove.’

‘Bye, Jude.’

He hung up and rejoined the mad dances that Vini and Cama were leading, still keeping track of time.

While Ananya grabbed on to the washroom counter, looked into the mirror and stared at her own reflection.

It was really happening. In 30 mins, she was going to get into his car, go to his house, and have dinner with him alone for a few hours.

…………………………….

There you go, this was the second chapter. Tons more to come in this story, feedback / comments are very welcome. Would love to hear your thoughts 😊

[chelseachilly]

when i'm feeling alone, you remind me of home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you're stranded at uni by yourself for christmas with no flights going to london, but your boyfriend has other ideas warnings: nothing but fluff ❄️🫶🏼 word count: 2.5k

author’s note: here's another holiday one-shot! hoping to write at least one more before christmas. also btw there is no regard for the actual chelsea december fixtures or club rules in this story lol. title from christmas tree farm by taylor 🎄

-

You’ve always loved snow.

You loved playing in it as a little kid, making snowmen with your parents and going sledding with friends. You loved watching it from your window your first year of uni, seeing the blanket of white make Edinburgh look even more magical. You love bundling up to go ice skating and drinking hot chocolate as the snow falls around you.

But right now, you absolutely hate it. 

A massive snowstorm rolling through the UK has caused the cancellation all flights, including the one you were supposed to take from Edinburgh to London tonight. It’s your last year of university there, but you’ve never missed a Christmas at home with your family and your boyfriend.

Now, it’s two days until Christmas and you’re stranded alone in your little flat with absolutely no way of making it home.

“What? You can’t get a train?” Ben asks after you’ve explained your predicament to him sadly. 

As much as you feel bad about missing the holiday with your parents, you feel really bad about not being able to see Ben. With your busy schedules, you’ve hardly seen him in months, and you even missed his birthday a couple days ago because you had an exam. Now, you were supposed to finally have an entire week with him in London. 

You were going to go to Winter Wonderland and complain about tourists and end up going back to his to snuggle by the fireplace. You were going to have Christmas morning with your family and dinner with his, spending the whole day exchanging gifts and fond memories. You were going to watch his game on the 27th and bundle up in your warmest Chelsea gear to cheer your heart out for your man, which you’ve really missed doing lately. 

You miss everything about him, really. 

But instead, you’re going to be eating Indian takeaway leftovers and watching Love Actually to try to make yourself feel better.

“The trains are all full, I checked,” you sigh. 

“Well, let me see if I can charter a plane-“

“Ben,” you cut him off before he gets ahead of myself. Although it’s quite extravagant for him to spend tens of thousands of dollars getting you there, you know he would do it in a heartbeat. “All flights are grounded, not just mine. It’s not possible.”

“But…there must be something.”

You can picture his disappointed face right now, and it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you reply, sinking into your couch. “You know I would do anything to be there with you right now.”

“Don’t apologize to me, love, I can’t believe you’re going to spend Christmas alone,” Ben sighs. “This is so shit. I just wanna see you and hold you.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I miss you so much. The only thing that got me through exams was thinking about being home with you and playing with Oscar in the snow and baking cookies…”

You can feel yourself getting choked up, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks as you think about all you’ll be missing out on. You feel a bit silly, knowing there are people with far bigger problems in the world, but you’ve been working yourself to death for the past month to ace your finals and this trip home was the shining light at the end of the tunnel. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ben says sadly. “I miss you so much too. I wish there was something we could do.”

“Like control the weather?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood despite the tears running down your face.

“You know I would do it if I could,” he replies seriously. “I’m sorry this is happening, babe. Maybe the weather will clear up in a day or two and you’ll still be able to make it out for a few days, yeah?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you breathe - some time with Ben and your family is better than nothing, but you’re still going to be alone for Christmas morning. “I should let you go, I don’t want to stop you from having a nice holiday too. Say hi to your mum and Alex for me when they get there, alright?”

“I will, baby,” Ben says. “I’ll text you later and call you in the morning, alright?”

“Alright,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, love.”

The moment Ben hangs up, you toss your cell onto the cushion beside you and bury your face in the pillow, groaning in frustration. 

After feeling sorry for yourself for a bit, you reluctantly get up and go to turn up the heat and change into something warmer, as the temperatures outside continue to drop. You grab Ben’s hoodie from your closet, a cozy grey one you stole last time you were in London. It barely smells like him anymore, since that was over a month ago and you’ve worn and washed it several times, but it’s still a small comfort to wear something of his.

You heat up your dinner and put on the film, although the romantic scenes and the shots of London only seem to make you more homesick. 

You text Ben during his favourite part, which is naturally Hugh Grant dancing around 10 Downing Street. 

The annual Love Actually rewatch isn’t the same without you babe. Hope you’re having fun with the fam ❤️

He takes a while to respond, which you hope means he’s having a better time than you are and enjoying being with his family. 

You’re just drifting off to sleep when his text finally comes in.

It’s not the same here without you either. Goodnight baby, talk in the morning 😘

-

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing.

You briefly think it’s your alarm, but you don’t remember setting one, certainly not for 7AM, which is the current time according to your watch.

You blearily stretch your arms, a bit of a crick in your neck from falling asleep on the couch, and reach around haphazardly for your phone.

You see Ben’s name and contact photo on the screen and you quickly answer, worried something is wrong if he’s calling you at this time. 

“Ben? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he assures you. “Can you go downstairs? There’s a delivery for you.”

“What?” you yawn, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What on earth have you sent me at seven in the morning?”

“Just go check, I think you’ll like it,” Ben promises, and you can hear the smile tugging at his lips. “Quickly, babe. This is time sensitive.”

You roll your eyes fondly as you throw the blanket off yourself and slide on your slippers, leaving the warmth of your flat to go down the stairs and see what’s waiting for you outside the main doors. You can only imagine what ridiculous present your boyfriend had shipped to you overnight to try to make up for your failed Christmas. 

You tighten Ben’s hoodie around your body to brace yourself for the cold before opening the door, your eyes on the ground where you’re expecting the package to be.

Instead, you see a familiar pair of Nikes - and your eyes trail up to see the very familiar man wearing them. 

You’re not sure if you’re dreaming, so you blink a few times, only to be greeted with the same sight - your perfect, adorable boyfriend standing in front of you in his puffer jacket and hat, his cheeks red from the cold and his smile absolutely blinding. 

“Ben?” you gasp. “Why are you - how are you here?”

“I couldn’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

You meet him halfway as he drops his bags to the ground and opens his arms for you to throw yourself at him. You hug him as tight as you can, burying your nose in his neck and inhaling his scent. You can’t believe this is really happening.

“How the hell did you get here?” you ask as he squeezes your waist tightly and kisses the top of your head. 

“I drove,” Ben murmurs. 

You pull back to look at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

“You drove? It’s, like, eight hours-“

“Twelve in a snowstorm, apparently,” Ben chuckles. “But definitely worth it for this.”

“You drove all night through a snowstorm for me?”

You can feel tears beginning to brim in your eyes once again, though these are tears of joy. You can’t believe how insanely lucky you are to have a man who loves you this much. 

“Of course I did, I would do anything for you,” Ben says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, brushing his nose against yours. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long night and I would really love a kiss.”

Without hesitation, you grab his face and kiss him passionately, sighing with joy at the feeling of being reunited with your boyfriend. You’re certain that this is the most romantic and wonderful thing anyone has ever done for you, and although you never expected the best kiss of your life to happen on your doorstep at 7am in a blizzard, this just might take the top spot.

“I love you so damn much,” you whisper against his lips when you finally pull away. “But I am also slightly mad at you for driving at night in poor conditions.”

Ben laughs and rolls his eyes a bit. “I promise I was safe, but can we go inside where it’s warmer before we argue about it?”

“Hmm, okay,” you grin, pecking his lips a few more times before helping him lug his bags up the stairs to your flat.

Once you’re inside and Ben’s taken off his shoes and coat, you waste no time in wrapping your arms around him and kissing him again. 

“You’re freezing, sweetheart,” you murmur as his cold hands slide under your - his - hoodie to feel your skin. “Want a tea? Or do you want to go straight to bed? You must be exhausted.”

“A tea and a cuddle would be perfect,” Ben smiles, pecking your forehead.

You tell him to go get comfy on the couch while you make tea for both of you, and when you return, he’s waiting for you with open arms and a sleepy grin on his face. 

You place both mugs on the coffee table and curl up next to him, your face in the crook of his neck and your arms and legs tangled. 

You let out a content sigh as your bodies recalibrate after so much time apart. You knew you needed this, but you didn’t know quite how much until right now. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you murmur, kissing his jaw. “What about your mum and Alex, though?”

“I told them how sad you sounded on the phone and they encouraged me to go, though my mum was slightly nervous about me making the drive-“

“As she should be,” you scold gently.

“I told you, I was very careful, and there were hardly any cars on the roads,” Ben promises once again. “Anyways, they were all for it. They knew I would’ve been miserable without you there.”

You hug him a bit tighter, hooking your leg around his. “Wait, you have a game in three days. Did the club really sign off on this?”

“I managed to persuade Poch to give me today off to go see my girl, I think he’s a bit of a softie at heart,” Ben jokes. “And we have tomorrow and the day after off for Christmas anyways. We’ll just have to drive back on the 26th, the roads are supposed to clear by then. I know it’s not the same as Christmas in London with both our families, but this is better than being apart, right?”

“Ben,” you say sincerely, cupping his cheek with one hand. “This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. A cozy Christmas with just the two of us sounds absolutely perfect. Thank you, baby.”

Your lips meet in another sweet kiss, one that quickly escalates as you feel your boyfriend’s hands on your hips and thighs for the first time in a month. You moan into his mouth as he tugs you into his lap. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathe between kisses, tugging his hat off to run your hands through his messy hair. 

“I can tell, hoodie thief,” Ben teases, fiddling with the soft material. “You look unreal in that, by the way. And I missed you more.”

You smile into another kiss, getting completely lost in him and his scent and his touch. Even after years together, you’re completely addicted to him. 

You’re ready to take it further and move to your bedroom, but you’re interrupted by a yawn from Ben. He tries to kiss you again afterward, but you laugh softly and hold his face. 

“You need sleep, Benjamin.”

He pouts slightly in protest, but you kiss him again quickly and it goes away.

“Babe, you’re exhausted,” you murmur softly. “We can go cuddle in my bed and continue this later.”

Ben sighs and nods as you climb off him and extend your hand to help him up. He doesn’t let go of your hand, though, instead pulling you into another warm hug. He’s so sleepy and adorable that you could nearly cry as he nuzzles his face into your hair. 

He’s always been a very tactile person, and you know that for every time you tell him how much you missed and love him, he will hold you a little bit longer or kiss your forehead to say the exact same thing.

When you finally pull apart, you take him by the hand and lead him into your bedroom. He strips down to his boxers, which is how he prefers to sleep even in the dead of winter. He says you run hot enough to keep him warm, though you’re not sure if that’s true or he just likes to maximize your skin-on-skin contact.

He’s much warmer now than when you found him on your doorstep, so it’s not a shock to your system when you climb into bed with him and he immediately pulls you into his chest.

“I promise once you’ve had a proper rest I’ll make the drive worth your while, baby,” you say with a slight smirk as you wrap your arm around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. 

Ben just tightens his grip on you and closes his eyes, a content smile on his face. 

“It was worth it the second you opened the door.”

As you watch your boyfriend drift off to sleep, feeling so full of love for him that you might burst, you make a mental note to make it extra worth it for him later just for that adorable comment. 

After you’ve both slept a few hours and spent another few making up for lost time, you spend the rest of Christmas Eve watching films and baking cookies. 

The next morning, you both wake up early and exchange presents in your festive pyjamas. It’s not the same as if you were in London with both your families, but it’s still perfect because you’re together. 

And a year later, when you’ve graduated and you’re celebrating your first Christmas in your new home with a diamond ring on your finger, it’s even better. 

i hope you enjoyed this story! and thank you for all your lovely comments on my last fic. if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for my ben fics in the future, please let me know! ❤️💚

[haitianempress]

RANT INCOMING 😤

I went on Instagram and saw the two little trailers for the new story. Tell me why on the post with the black man seeming to be the li people are already calling the book boring.

Some won't admit it but I will whenever the stories in this game don't focus on white li's some fans get bored quickly. They did it to Time Catcher and now Garden of Eden. You guys claim it's boring and y'all can't understand when they have the most understandable plot in Romance Club.

Someone even had the nerve to bring up Song of the Crimson Nile not having an update for next month and the fact a new story is on the way...THE STORY JUST HAD AN UPDATE A MONTH AGO. The author has to deal with two popular stories with two demanding fanbases. She is taking time for herself which gives yall time to diamond farm, gain achievements, start/finish stories, and get clothing.

The Russian fandom is OBSESSED with Christian (romance him idc but don't gaslight anybody who doesn't like him) and sees nothing wrong with him or why Indian readers are upset. They kept on screaming it's just fiction and that they shouldn't complain. If it's just fiction why do they get mad when they see diverse li's or mc's?? Pls, touch grass.

[vixentheplanet]

five star hotel

"I think you should come and visit. I someone else who isn't you pulling up in a minute."

shuri x black!reader | 18+

Summary: You've recently completed a press tour and a phenomenal award season for your latest film. To celebrate and unwind, you and your friends fly to Mauritius, an island in East Africa. You realize your relaxation time, but you're missing a thrill that can only come from one person. The only problem is that they need to be here.

inspired by five star hotels. by raye

word count: 7.1k

themes: actress reader, dom/sub undertones, this is very filthy...

warnings: smoking, drinking, possessive!shuri, dom! shuri, dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, car sex, shotgunning, thigh riding, fingering, orgasm denial, begging, established safe words, body licking, rough sex, penetrative sex, spitting, choking, throat fucking, wall sex, oral sex

hi - i’m in the process of re-uploading everything so anyone who wants to read can have easy access to find my works which is going to take some time but this was the easiest to post (it’s me not some random person lmaooo) 😔

Mauritius. A small Indian Ocean island nation famed for its beaches, lagoons, and reefs. It was your holiday destination of choice. You'd just returned from a press tour for your new film, Sounds of the Vanished, and you'd finished the awards season as the most-awarded actress for your performance. The response and success to your performance had been magnificent, but with so much traveling and busy schedules, you were relieved to be on vacation.

The island was your destination for relaxation. Liza, Kali, Jade, and Evangeline were among your closest friends. You'd only been here for three of the fourteen days you'd planned, but you were having a great time going on different excursions during the day, such as hiking, snorkeling, and deep-sea diving. At night, you could be seen mingling with both residents and tourists at any number of vibrant outdoor bars and clubs. You were having a great time until last night when you had a little too much to drink.

As an actress, you were a natural social butterfly. You were the life of the party, captivating everyone who came across you. People are scared of your confidence. That was something you'd built up to prepare for audition rejections, award losses, and unfavorable critiques in this line of work. These qualities made up your character and personality that the public loved and adored, but you may be intense for those who didn't know how to handle it. As a single, young, attractive, and accomplished woman, such vibrant, charismatic energy drew a lot of attention, but most people realized they were too intimated by you. All except her.

You and Shuri, the Queen of Wakanda, had been seeing each other for a few months. The two of you discovered a pleasure in one another that you couldn't find anyplace else, which is why you found yourself phoning her the night before. You and your four friends were lounging on the patio of a bar, taking in the atmosphere and the warm climate. With the breathtaking ocean scenery, string lights twinkled above you as the waves crashed against the shore.

You'd been drinking a lot of flights, trying out various whiskeys and margaritas. The more the alcohol affected your bloodstream, the more lustful you became. Feelings that only she could control. You knew she'd make time for you if you asked, but when you slipped away to a quieter corner of the bar to call, she didn't answer.

Even when she's working, Shuri always answers your calls. It was too late for her to have a council meeting, and if she were out on business or Panther duties, she'd let you know so you knew she wouldn't be available, so her phone not answering meant she was busy fucking someone else. You and Shuri had similar lifestyles, both busy, and neither of you liked being tied down. She slept with whomever she wanted, and you did as well.

Who’s that bitch you’re fucking?

I know you’re fucking her.

You texted, which seemed to tease, but the attitude was evident. You were the top priority over any of those other bitches.

She texted back an hour after.

Bet.

That was the end of the conversation last night. This morning, you awoke, smirking all the way to breakfast with your companions. You didn't care enough to "apologize," you both knew you weren't sincere, and everything you said was true.

You missed her body, and you know she missed yours.

She should be here. Nobody can fire her up as you can, and she's told you that several times.

You and Shuri had choices, and you both occasionally explored options before settling back on each other. Sex is sex, but sex with Shuri is unrivaled. Perhaps it's because she has no problem putting you in your place. Neither your fame nor your demeanor could faze her, maybe because you were a challenge to her. In turn, you weren’t intimidated by her being the Queen of Wakanda or the Black Panther.

The entire morning you went on a sightseeing and boat tour. You pause to take pictures with fans or sign autographs for any who happen to pass by before hurriedly exiting the location. Your security was concerned that word of your and your guests' whereabouts would spread shortly. You return to your room in the middle of the day. Jade retreated to her room to nap while Liza, Kali, and Evangeline went to the spa, but you returned to clean your room in preparation for Shuri's arrival.

It was time to get ready for tonight by the time you finished. You prepared by taking a shower, applying skincare and makeup, and grabbing your outfit from the closet—a Dolce & Gabbana black spandex mini dress with sleeves from the 2003 spring collection. When you reunited, Kali whistled, "Yeah, ma, do a spin for me,” She took out her phone and began recording an Instagram story. To humor her, you do a whole spin shaking your ass a little before turning around and laughing.

You know it's just a matter of time before your fans discover it and go crazy for the dress, but this is the only chance they'll see you wear it. Though things were quiet on Shuri's end, you knew she'd come through. “Save it for the club!” Angie yells as your bodyguard holds the SUV’s door open.

You're dancing in the midst of a club, but you can't recall his name. He had approached you, star-struck, and asked if you wanted to dance; why not? Something he might later brag about to his buddies. You left Liza and Kali at the table, watching everyone's drinks. Jade and Evangeline had long disappeared after hearing a few members of the Golden State Warriors were in the lounge: “When Basketball Wives gets rebooted, trust I’ll be there. Let’s go, Angie!” So there you were, grinding back on a nameless man, his hard-on pressing onto you. You didn't mind because he was handsome enough. It was a nice ego boost and even better knowing he'd be dissatisfied by the night's end.

He couldn't keep up with you even now, dancing timidly, because his energy didn't match yours. Nervous. Consider what would happen if a famous actress told him, "I need you to choke me and pound me until I can't walk tomorrow." In all likelihood, he'd flee, leaving you to obsess about the person in your fantasies. You see Kali strolling through the crowd after leaving the VIP section upstairs as if angels answered your prayers. Her phone is in your hand, and her face is filled with worry. You break away from your dancing partner to focus solely on your best friend, and he backs off. "What's the matter, babe?" You yell over the music as she hands you your phone.

"Your phone hasn't stopped ringing!" She yells in your ear, attempting to come as close as possible to you. "You have something like a hundred notifications. I don’t know if something serious happened,” she exaggerates, handing you your phone.

As you check your phone, you find ten missed calls and two texts from 'DP.' Because calling back while the music vibrated the floorboards was pointless, you read the text first.

Come outside.

Now.

Smirking, you bite your lip and glance at the screen, no longer interested in your dance partner. She arrived. You knew 'bet' wasn't a joke. Shuri was one of the most brilliant minds in existence, with access to the most cutting-edge existing technologies. She was undoubtedly aware of your whereabouts before you enticed her to come hunting for you. You told her to come looking for you, and she did. You can't help but wonder how long she's been hiding on the island, waiting for the right opportunity to surprise you.

When you look up, Kali looks at you suspiciously, questioning, "Who the fuck is DP, and why are they blowing up your phone?" She wonders aloud. You wrinkle your eyebrows at her assertiveness, "None of your concern, one. Two, I'm heading out."

Kali's eyes show she wants to push you farther, but secrets are unusual between you, so she knows your secrecy is for a reason. "You'd better be at brunch. That’s all I know!” She demands, abruptly changing the subject. You grin as you lean down to kiss her cheek.

“I will, baby. Tell Liza I’m leaving; you know she worries.” Liza was the eldest and only married woman with two gorgeous children. She knew how to have a good time and party, but on nights like this, with everyone split up, drinking, and in a foreign country, she was bound to be extra careful despite your protection. Her maternal instincts were likely in overdrive, especially with Jade and Angie. In a way, you're one less person to be concerned about.

You gaze down at your phone once more. Shuri's text message arrived seven minutes ago. "Yes, yes. Leave before I come outside with you and start interrogating."

Knowing she's dead serious, you wrap up the conversation. "Love you, and make sure one of them doesn't wind up taking Tristian Thompson to the hotel," you joke, referring to Jade and Angie’s quest to be WAGS. Kali's eyes widen as you joke.

“Girl! You’re messy—get out of here," she giggles, nudging you along.

Moving stealthily through the crowd toward the exit, you keep your head down. The cool night air hits your exposed skin as you scan the area for your target. There's a black unmarked Rolls Royce with dark tints that are probably illegal. Bingo. Once it’s safe to do so, you cross the street and peer across the back to see a familiar figure pressing up against the passenger door.

You're confident none of the dark and disoriented individuals inside and outside the club are paying attention to the fact that the queen of Wakanda is standing out in the open, waiting for you. As you take her in, your lip catches between your teeth. She is dressed casually in black athletic shorts and a white tee shirt. There was no use in putting effort into an outfit that would wind up on the floor, but she looked impressive in whatever she wore.

She didn't bother turning her head to look at you as if she sensed you. "I found you," she says. Her tone is somber and absent of the usual playfulness. She did not find your antics the night before amusing. "Found me," you say as you stroll up the sidewalk to Shuri. Even though she seems off, being in the Wakandan Queen's presence causes your skin to tingle with anticipation. Your body is all too familiar with her.

When you stand before her, she uncrosses her arms, and you naturally fall into them, staring up at her as her arms wrap around your waist. "I thought I'd have to drag you out of there." You bring your arms around her neck, pulling her in.

“Mm,” you hum at the thought of Shuri being rough with you. “Wouldn’t want you to cause a scene to scare away all my potential late-night guests,” you teased. Instead of responding verbally, Shuri takes one of her hands off your ass and brings it back in a disciplining slap. You almost moan as the offensive force increases your eagerness.

You close your eyes, wincing slightly before letting out a breathy sigh. "Why are you upset? I can be with whoever I want, right.” You mock her, peering up at her through your lashes with false innocence. As if you didn't know, your words would provoke that reaction from her.

Shuri looks down at you. She rubs your ass with the hands she used to punish you for soothing the pain. “You can fuck whoever you want, but you still beg me to come out here.”

The reunion is over as she releases you, pushing off the car. Her authoritative nature consumes the air around you, nearly suffocating. "What's your problem?" you questioned as if you hadn't drunk-texted her, telling her she needed to be here.

Shuri sucks her teeth. "My problem is you," she declares emphatically, not caring how you react. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.” There were two choices: retaliate with an equally slick ass statement, or listen and behave. For now, you’ll behave as you decide to reach to open the door.

Shuri's presence is behind you, grasping the handle before you can, "Don't act brand new," she says. When you get inside the Rolls-Royce, you're surprised Shuri can see out the black windows—admiring the starlight headlining. She stays silent after that, getting into the driver's seat. She continues to drive without even trying to pay attention to you. You were aware that you might be a brat sometimes; all that confidence and energy made for a toxic combination now and then. One way Shuri exerts power is by ignoring you. Sometimes it would work, shifting your headspace to a more submissive one. You're too busy being a good girl, begging and pleading for Shuri's praise and care, to be bothered with talking back. Other times, you make her work for your submission, not letting up until she is inside of you, manipulating your body into any position she desires while fucking you senseless.

You knew exactly what you needed tonight. Shuri parks her car in a beach parking space near the hotel and turns off the engine. Silence fills the air as Shuri reclines her seat, and you wait impatiently. You wonder why she stopped here instead of the main lot.

You get your answer as your eyes follow her movements as she reaches in and pulls out a pre-rolled joint, sparking the lighter. Shuri’s gaze lingers on you as she takes a hit of the cannabis. Exhaling, the smoke fills the air around you. You expect her to open her mouth to speak now, but instead, she returns the joint to her lips. Starting to get agitated with her ignoring you, cross your arms, and face her back against the door. "Did you drag me out of the club to watch you smoke?"

"Didn't you text my phone acting crazy? Stop being impatient."

You raise an eyebrow at her comments as if she didn’t want you as much as you wanted her. “You’re acting like if I told you couldn’t hit this anymore, you wouldn’t lose your mind. It doesn’t matter who you’re laid up with. They aren't me." Many women were willing and waiting for Shuri to give them a chance, but she came here to be with you in less than twenty-four hours.

Shuri sucks her teeth and is not pleased with your delivery as she refuses to accept the truth of your words. “You keep talking to me like you lost your mind,” she asserts, frowning in confusion. “I don’t know who else you’re dealing with that lets you talk to them like that, but not me,” she warns.

"I wouldn't be talking if we were inside," your voice whines. Neediness has taken over. She was right here, but she was still too far away.

Shuri grins. "Would you like me to bring you inside? I might use you how I please for my own satisfaction. Have you just lay there and take it? Is that what you want?”

"You wouldn’t do that."

“I wouldn’t?” Shuri challenges, passing the joint to your outstretched fingers.

“Coming all this way and not playing with me,” You inhale in small puffs, pull the smoke into your lungs, and exhale. “Sounds like more of a punishment for you than me.” Your body was something she couldn't resist. Even when she attempts to avoid touching you in order to drive you insane, she always breaks. You didn’t need to dominate to control her.

You return the blunt to her, and she accepts it. "Come here," she says as she pats the empty space in her lap, and you climb over. She absorbs another blow at the same time. Her hand is on your thigh, gradually moving the fabric of your dress up, exposing the skin of your ass to the cool temperature that the AC is trying to maintain.

As you approach her, the effects of the high are visible in her eyes. Your gaze falls to her lips, and without hesitation, you lift your hands to her face and draw her to you. Shuri's free hand pulls you closer in an instant, pressing you even harder against her lips, finally giving in to what you both desire. Shuri's teeth dragged at your lower lip, causing you to part your lips. Instinct took over as you felt the Wakandan royals' tongue glide between your lips. Heat runs through your body all at once, and the hunger building up with the distance causes you to devour each other, leaving you gasping as she pulls away.

You give her a single breath before lowering your lips again. Shuri took the lead this time, more demanding and rough, brushing her tongue over your lips and drawing it between her teeth in the most sinful way possible, your brain shutting down completely as you makeout.

It's your turn to take a breath away from the kiss, and Shuri tries to distract herself by going down towards your collarbone.

"Uh, uh," you pull Shuri's mouth away from your neck, revealing her face. "I know exactly how you get, and I have a lot of skimpy bikinis to wear." Shuri took great pleasure in seeing all of her marks on you. Everyone who fucked you next would be distracted by thoughts of who gave them to you, unable to enjoy themselves to the fullest. Constantly wondering and fascinated as to who had so much claim over you.

"People can't admire me if they're too focused on what's on my skin." Shuri's eyes narrow, not amused by your comment. To console her, you caress the side of her face, beckoning her to lean closer with a finger. You teasingly bite her lip, returning to meet her icy stare again.

"Don't make that face," you mock, knowing Shuri was irritated by the image of you with other people you were trying to paint in her mind. There was no commitment, but neither of you liked being reminded of previous sexual partners when you were together. You give her lips another light peck, humming with excitement at the satisfaction of riling her up. "You can still hit it like it's yours," you whisper, your angelic eyes drowning in seduction.

Shuri finally gets tired of your arrogance and lifts your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at her. "It is mine.” She almost growls in your ear. Your smirk fades as you let out an audible moan, getting off to the sound of her voice, knowing the severity in her tone assured you a long night ahead.

Shuri makes a pleased sound, and her suppressed groan enhances your desire for her. “I love this little attitude you’re putting on. You want to know why?” She asked, waiting for you to respond.

“Mm, why is that?” You take a deep breath, feeling the tension and temperature in the car rise. You desperately wanted to remove that extra layer of clothing between you two. You were aching for her despite your best efforts to appear unaffected.

Shuri relaxes her hold slightly to bring her thumb to your lower lip, her dark gaze following the way your tongue teasingly peaks out to lick the tip of her finger. "Because I get to fuck it out of you," she continues. “Make you my good girl again." Her words penetrate your core, and you feel walls clench around emptiness, knowing she'll make you complete soon.

"You're insatiable, and no one can tame you as I can. Huh, baby,” You nod, unable to speak because your mouth is busy. "That's exactly what I thought. Now move.” Move? You wrinkle your brows as you begin to rise from Shuri's lap, disappointed, not seeing the point of having you get up from your seat in the first place before a bruising hold on your waist stops you. “Move.” She repeats more forcefully, and you realize what she means. You adjust a little so that one of Shuri's thighs is between your legs, then press down until your clit is firmly against her. You're confident she can sense how wet you are for her, dripping on her skin.

"Get nice and wet for me, but you can't cum," Shuri instructs as you roll your hips. You begin cautiously, attempting to follow Shuri's warning not to cum yet. You won't overwhelm yourself if you proceed slowly.

Time passes. Shuri rotates the rest of the blunt between you two, bringing it to your lips for each inhalation. Your hands are gripping the back of the seat. It's hot, and you can feel sweat clinging to your skin, but you don't mind. You're far too mellow. Dazed and whirling, your hips are in sync with the smoke filling the air illuminated by the stars on the ceiling. Using Shuri's body to get off feels like something out of a dream.

Massaging your clit against Shuri’s thighs, a little gasp leaves your lips when the sensation gets too much. Shuri takes one last, deep drag. A hand comes to the back of your neck, pulling you close to her until your foreheads are touching. Before opening your mouth, you purse your lips, pushing a whimper to the back of your throat. Shuri presses forward, your lips touching as she, little by little, blows the smoke into your mouth. You accept everything, inhaling the marijuana and moving in for a kiss.

Her hand goes from your neck to your folds, inserting her middle finger inside till it brushes against your clit. The slightest touch of her fingertips causes your hips to stutter and your rhythm to come to a halt as your thighs tighten around her wrist. "Shuri," you exhale, rocking gently in her embrace.

Your face flushed at the slick sounds as she played in the results of your sexual desire.

"You're not being fair," you protest. Shuri commanded you not to cum while making it more difficult for you. It was easier when you had a choice over your pleasures, but Shuri used her expert fingers to take you apart while expecting you not to cum. Your stomach tightens as you strain to suppress your climax, letting out a few quiet grunts.

Shuri doesn't care what you think of her games. “I don’t have to be fair. I make the rules, and you have to follow them.” Her dominant tone is coming through, making you even wetter. The low, seductive timbre of her voice might set you off. She increases the pressure on her finger, and you're practically writhing in her lap, desperate for the woman to stop. You could feel the euphoric tension rising and—

"Fuck," you scream, curling in on yourself in relief as Shuri comes to a stop, denying you release verbally and now physically. You mistakenly assume she was finished, not realizing she never removed her hand. You could have thought things were over, but now she's moving again.

“Are you going to come?” She questioned. No words are coming out of your mouth, so you frantically shake your head from side to side. Your body betrays you, starved of orgasm and searching for it. On Shuri's fingers, your hips swivel down. Shuri grins with amusement as she watches you break.

The weed always lets you get out of your thoughts and into your body, which was good because it amplified sex sensations when high. Yet, it also proved a disadvantage as you fought to keep it together. "Are you sure?" With a wicked expression on her face, she pushed.

You felt helpless, wanting to obey Shuri yet lacking the strength to resist your release. "Please, please, please," you beg, attempting to escape her. But you're no match for Shuri, and she doesn't back down, aware that if you genuinely wanted her to stop, you'd use the safe word you established.

Your pleading must have worked because a few seconds later, Shuri pauses, preventing you from having an orgasm yet again. Relieved, tears well up in the corners of your eyes as you realize you can break free. She removes her hands this time, and you can see the sticky substances coating her fingers. “Always so messy,”

Shuri raises her fingers to your mouth, and you accept them to clean yourself off her. You look up at her with sparkling eyes as you conduct such wicked acts. She groans as she feels your lips suction around her, tongue circling each finger, properly licking yourself up. “Good enough for me to taste later,” you nod, still sucking.

A humming sound emanates from her lips as she muses, "I'll think about it if you can listen to me. You'll now return to your room while I park the car." Shuri continues to speak. "I want you naked on the bed. If you understand, nod." You do as directed by gesturing your head like a good girl. Shuri kisses you briefly before releasing you.

Faithful to her sadistic nature, she has added one extra obstacle for you to get to your suite. You shakily exit the car, pausing to remove your heels as you walk through the sand. You reach the patio and cross the hotel gardens, cursing Shuri silently. You try to multitask by removing your dress's sleeves. You cross the bridge into the area of the private spaces a few minutes later, smiling at the Hotel personnel as you rush.

You unlock the suite door and kick your heels to the side of the entryway before proceeding to the room. A touchscreen pad on the wall controls multiple functions in the room. You press the center button, which dimly illuminates the room. You rush into the restroom to wash the sand off your feet. Fucking Shuri. On the short walk, you've probably cursed her ten times.

You run into the kitchen, needing a drink. You opened a bottle of wine the other day but never got around to drinking it. You remove the cork and pour two glasses, one for yourself and one for Shuri. You down the smooth red liquid. You understand that the alcohol would quickly combine with the THC in your system. "Fuck," you mutter as you realize you're losing time. Shuri was almost certainly on her way inside.

You hurriedly slip your dress over your head and slide your soaked panties down your legs, throwing both things on the couch at the end of the bed, leaving the bottle and glass of wine you poured for Her on the bedside table. You climb into bed, your head resting in your hands, your elbow propped up, anticipation beating through your skin.

Shuri emerges from the corridor a few minutes later, placing a bag on the carpet. Her pupils dilated as lust darkened her irises, and her eyes took you in. The number of times she's seen you undressed doesn't matter; she's always stunned, unable to speak. She walks around to the other side of the bed and finds the treat you've left for her. “You want to be nice to me now?” Shuri said as she looked at the wine.

"You expect me to show compassion for you just because you pour me a glass of wine?" Shuri reaches out her tattooed hand to stroke your chin. "I'm not," she laughed, tilting her head to the side. "But it was thoughtful of you."

You gasp sharply at her words. You can't wait for her to take off her clothes. You desired her inside of you after being denied two orgasms. "I never asked you to be," you said sarcastically. H oping she'd hurry up and fulfill her promise to fuck the arrogance out of you.

Shuri laughs again, aware of the game you were playing. “You have such a mouth on you.” She takes a couple of sips from her glass. "Lie on your back," she commands, and you do what she says—looking up at the chandelier while resting flat on your back.

Shuri holds the glass at an angle such that the red wine drips between your breasts and down to your stomach from above. The chill the unexpected sensation leaves on your skin causes your breath to catch. Your body stiffens as you try not to move and disturb the liquid on your body. Shuri gets on the bed face to face with the lower half of your body, still completely clothed, admiring her work. She brings her mouth to your heated skin from beneath your belly button, carefully licking up the mess she made.

She stops between your breasts, placing her lips on one of your nipples, and you moan, feeling her tongue circle around the sensitive bud—the bitter chill of the central air hardens it. Shuri moves on to the next one, repeating the technique and sucking until the sensitive buds are tense.

As she approaches, you whimper and finally come face to face. Shuri places two fingers between your legs, just outside your entrance. She was right where you needed her, but not quite near enough. "You're always so pretty and tight for me."

"Shuri," you whine. She was ignoring your desires. "No, that's all you're getting for now.” You sigh and roll your eyes. Shuri catches the action. “Again, with the attitude. That’s okay. We’re about to correct it right now.”

Shuri spreads your legs apart and bends them at the knee. “I advise that you keep your legs like this.” Though it didn’t seem like a complex request, you knew you would feel it in your abdomen the longer you held it. "Wide open, ready for me," Shuri observed, staring intently at your warm and inviting pussy.

You bite your lip as Shuri sinks inch by inch, and by the time she's entirely inside, you're gasping, your eyes shutting abruptly as your face twists in ecstasy. Shuri emits a noise of dissatisfaction, “No, open your eyes. I want you to watch it. Watch while I take you apart.” Her eyes had a sinister glint to them. She pushed in and out a few times to get you acquainted with the sensation of her.

The delayed start provided a false sense of security. Shuri's speed soon became ferocious fucking into you, and all you could do was lay there and receive it as her hips slapped into you. "Fuck!" you yelled, flinging your head back. Your thigh muscles were aching from retaining the position, but you were determined not to obstruct Shuri's entry to you.

Shuri slows her desperate strokes, stilling inside you, giving you a short reprieve. She goes for the bottle of wine and tilts her head back, taking a long sip. You can see her throat bob as she swallows it. It's quite seductive. "Open," she urges, holding the bottle above you, and you do it without question.

You feel like a goddess being poured wine while naked, high, and blissed out. This is why having sex with anyone else will never be the same as having sex with Shuri. Hair in all directions, body sticky from sweat, and the residue of the wine sipped off your skin. You swallow the wine, letting the smooth liquid ease the scratchiness in your throat. "Open," she says again, and although the bottle is nowhere to be seen, you open your mouth wide, putting your tongue out, waiting. Shuri spits directly into your mouth, and you tighten your grip on the strap. It should be disgusting, yet it's hot, and you fucking love it as her saliva hits you. “Such a whore, you know that? Letting me fuck you, ruin you.”

Her hands are widening your legs. "You love that, don't you?"

“Yes, yes, yes,” When she puts her finger to your clit, she doesn't let up until she makes you scream, clutching the sheets while screaming and moaning. Shuri is captivated by the noises you make and how her name slips off your tongue as she abandons you absolutely and completely undone.

"Yes, please make me cum for you," you plead, all the toying and teasing had left you ravenous, and all you wanted to do was reach orgasm. "Fuck me like that, fuck me so good," you scream, your fingers tightly wrapped around Shuri's neck, forcing her to stare at you.

"You always fuck me so good—feel so good in me," You’re babbling, half out of your mind. Loving when you’re vocal in bed. Your word has Shuri double her efforts, her strokes sinking deeper. You gasp in response to a powerful thrust pressed up on your g-spot. "There- right there—don't stop, don't stop, don't stop- "

“Don’t stop, huh?” She asks. "Will you let me have you like this all the time? Fuck you nonstop. Never let you go. Constantly have you naked and ready in my bed."

"I'd let you fuck me again and over," you say, maintaining eye contact.

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? I'll keep you in Wakanda just to fuck you. Make you cum again and again." Shuri was slamming relentlessly into you. As the dominant continued to drive into you, you shouted. Being treated this way, like Shuri's own whore, made you feel amazing. She treated you like an irresistible toy.

“You want to cum?”

“Yes, please, baby.”

"Do you believe you deserve it?" Shuri continues, not interested in your point of view. "I'll be nice, baby," she says, her voice raspy and low. “I’ll let you come. I'll let you come all over me, then fuck it right back into you so you can give it to me again." You can hear the headboard hitting the wall, moving in tandem with the intensity of Shuri's push, mixed in with Shuri's dirty obscenities. Your moans, her filthy words, and the snap of hips against you all contribute to your symphony. The most sinful thing ever composed. After being denied orgasms, you were going to come, but you still needed more. You grab Shuri's wrist and pull her over to your neck. "Shit baby," Shuri says, recognizing your request. Breath play always intensified your orgasms, and you knew you were on the verge of cumming. Permission had now been obtained.

As the hand around your neck squeezes, power is exchanged. A release from control, you giving it to Shuri and her receiving it. The dominant and submissive. Daddy Panther and her darling. As your airway tightens, you ease into the touch, becoming calmer, more carefree, and wholly trusting.

You finally achieve your high at that instant for a million reasons: the smoke, wine, and the taste of yourself on her tongue. Your body arches as everything stops, and you cry out Shuri's name like a litany as you come. The intensity of your climax causes your thighs to quiver. Shuri fucks you through it. Grabbing onto the headboard to plunge harder into you, a forceful stroke presses you farther into the mattress. You hear a crack that sounds like the wood of the headboard in Shuri's hands, but she does not stop. She continues to fuck you, never letting up on her pace falter. When your nerves are on edge from being too sensitive, she stops.

Shuri pants above you. You lay there for a second, attempting to regain your composure while looking up at Shuri with tearful eyes. "There she is, my girl," Her hand brushes some of the hairs stuck to your forehead. "It's all right, darling. I know she needs a break,” Shuri says, wiping the tears from your eyes. Your pussy had its own heartbeat, pulsing from the rough treatment. The thrill is intoxicating.

Shuri pulls out and stands up, and you whine about the absence of contact. She's now standing at the foot of the bed. "All fours, come here," she ordered firmly. As much as your body protested moving so soon after such an intense orgasm, you were committed to doing the right thing for Shuri. Follow her instructions. She meant it when she said she'd restore you to your former self as her good girl, your attitude replaced by a desire to please her. "Look at the mess you've made." You stare down at the glistening strap coated with your release. Shuri gathers your hair in one hand, the other holding the strap's base.

You get down on your elbows, ass up, spine beautifully curved. Shuri thrusts in, her hand holding your hair and keeping you in position as she shallowly rocks her hips. You bob your head, working more quickly, saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth. “That’s it, baby, tasting my pretty girl.” Shuri breathes, tone rough.

"Are you going to let me fuck your throat?" You give her permission by humming around the object in your mouth. The hand in your hair stops your movement, and Shuri takes charge. When she thrusts, it feels like she's scratching your throat, and your throat feels full and tight as if it's been expanded. Occasionally she goes deeper, triggering your gag reflex and making your eyes water. “You’re working so hard. I can't wait for you to ruin it again." She starts sliding you along the shaft of the strap with your hair. As the strap tip strikes the back of your throat, you make a choked moan. Shuri knows this isn't the first time you've done this, so she keeps you there for a second before pulling you off. You're gasping, spit is dripping down your chin, and your eyes are burning. The sight truly amazes Shuri.

"You look fucking beautiful right now. Can you do it again for me?" Shuri requests. You nod. The harsh treatment ignited the fire in your stomach. "Then I'll fuck you again," she informs you.

Shuri pushes you, slipping the tip in your throat again and securing you in place. You calmly breathe through your nose, but your throat convulses around the strap, and you choke. "Take a breath," Shuri orders, and you listen, your throat spasming before Shuri lifts you back up. You gaze up at Shuri, tears streaming down your cheeks, your chin messier than before. “So perfect for me,” Shuri gasped, and you moaned at the adoration you found in her expression.

“Are you okay?” She asks, checking in.

“Yes,” your voice is hoarse, fucked out. Waiting for Shuri’s next move.

Shuri is effortlessly lifting you from your position and collecting you in her arms, hands under your legs to support you. You tightly wrap your legs around her. Shuri moves through the room. As your body is pressed against the plaster, you kiss her, and the strap slides back into you, undoing all your hard work cleaning it. Your fingers clasp Shuri's shoulder as your arm loops around her neck, keeping her close to your chest. You interrupt the kiss to groan loudly, and your head collides with the back wall. "You're doing well, baby. Taking everything I give you," she says proudly.

That was something you admired about her. She never takes anything from you and always gives you all you need.

Shuri pins you between the well and her chest; sweaty bodies push together. Your heartbeats are racing. "Damn baby, you fuck me so good," you moan, glancing down to where the strap disappeared and reappeared in you.

You have no choice but to accept it as she continues with the fierce, sharp thrust. Her strength is exhilarating, tearing you apart and never wavering, giving it to you hard and fast. "Yes, like that, exactly like that," you pant, encouraging her to keep going, reminding her that her "good girl" can receive anything she has to offer.

This time, you get to your second climax much more quickly. The harder Shuri fucked you, the louder your moans became, unconcerned about who heard. "When you cum, I want you to scream my name," Shuri demands. She couldn't stop herself. She seized your hips and drilled relentlessly into your pussy. “Say it. I need to hear you say it.” It was fascinating to see her lose control. And when you feel the familiar wave of overpowering euphoria pour over you, you give her exactly what she wants. “Panther!” You scream, your walls squeezing the strap while you cum, but there's no time to recover.

Shuri is flinging you on the covers, and she's crawling back between your legs for the second time tonight. Shuri adores the taste of you. You recall her spending nearly an hour spreading you open and licking leisurely, not to make you come but to satiate her thirst. She couldn't stop herself from making you cum on her tongue to end this round.

Her lips are on your abused clit, sucking hard as her tongue licks at it, demanding more. You're going to give it to her because you can't bear the thought of disappointing her. Shuri gave you what you needed to give her what she wanted: your submission, your cum, your moans, your pleasure; it was all hers. She wrecked you for anyone else. There will never be someone who knew your body as well as she did and demonstrated it every time you were together.

You try to get free from her grip by twisting your body to the side, but your efforts are unsuccessful. Shuri pulls your body straight, pinning you on the bed by your waist, uninterested in your overstimulation. She was on a mission to watch you cry and beg for mercy.

Tears cloud your vision as the experience begins to overtake you. It's fantastic—too much of a good thing. "Oh my goodness, baby!" you exclaim. You were taken aback as you felt the release exit your body. Your palm reaches for your mouth to muffle the ugly sobs rattling your body. Your orgasm's shakes and spasms were tremendous, moving your entire body with intensity. The whole thing was extremely sensitive. You can't help but grin with the contented numbness of coming down from a high.

You press your sweating brow against your forearm, your unfocused gaze seeking Shuri. She's to your right, observing you cautiously, knowing she's put you through a lot. And you wouldn't want it any other way, of course. You smile at her in satisfaction. “Perfect, Oscar winner smile.” Shuri is delighted. "My star, you did an amazing job for me, baby."

“Always, Daddy Panther.”

[kapyushonchan]

My (not so) short review that nobody needs hear for this update - KFOS and SOCN

*sighs* Boy, where do I start?

TLDR: KFOS and SOCN turned out disappointing. This is my personal impression, reasons below, warning - lots of letters.

KFOS - first, my minor pet peeve - I don't like that they stopped giving cutscenes with the favorites except Christian. Ram, Kamal and Sara have much fewer of them with Devi compared to him. I also noticed that the cutscenes have lost quality? Just close-ups? I've had the impression before that stories that drop in the rankings get less resources.

Second - I think Stasya doesn't "feel" the story yet, because the only emotions I experienced while reading were my disgust and tension during the dinner scene.

Well also Doran turned out well, his not-so-passive agression with wishing a long life to the queen (especially in the context that he can't express his displeasure with Englishmen directly and he can't kill them all, so he turns to caustic sarcasm) is just slay king energy.

Third - and here starts my rant - a lot of interactions feel artificial and underwhelming. Devi's confrontation with Clara in the street seemed just like that - artificial and not really well thought out. The concept of the scene itself is good - Devi sees how Indian servants are bullied in Britain and lashes out. But the tone, the consequences that author chose to portray is just.... Devi just pulls Guy Richi and shuts the racist arrogant lady up. Yayslay, but… was it me or it was underwhelming?

RANT

Come to think about it, you didn't have to go to Britain to see that behavior (or all those Indian movies I watched and a few books I read kind of misled me). AFAIK this attitude was common in occupied India, as some of the British upper and not so upper class moved there to occupy and make easy money there. They built districts to their taste and style - all those clubs and establishments where Indian servants worked and where Indians were not allowed to enter. The police, too, were subject to the British. This apartheid and humiliation could be seen in India at every step, but Devi notices it only in England? And, bear with me, but I really think she couldn't just go to a high society lady and berate her for the way she treats her servants without some consequences to her and to Christian reputation. Devi has not changed Clara's mind with this argument, and she certainly will not change the mind of the whole of English society, which stands on the opinion of the exclusivity and superiority of the British Empire over all nations that have not risen to the level of their greatness. That's how empires work. Devi's act was from the good heart, but impulsive, and she would be spoken of not with respect but with contempt, saying that Christian had chosen “a rude savage” as his bride. Because Devi is not at home. She is in the land of her enemies. Because the whole thing was truly none of her business and it's not her servant, and also doing that she could have made things much worse for the servant-girl and for Christian's reputation (breach of etiquette! that Devi likes to bring up when someone's rude to her). And in this situation it doesn’t matter how angry Devi and we as readers would have felt, because we are in a different world and we’re not making the rules there. We should be uncomfortable with this scene, we should feel anger and frustration in this scene.My point is that the scene would have been more realistic if at its outcome Devi was faced with indifference, condescension and judgment, as if Devi had done something wrong (she hadn't, she just ended up in a world where such attitudes were the norm). Devi should have felt like she was in the Looking Glass, she should have been thrown off balance by the situation. Girl power slay in the style of "I'm Basu and who are you?" doesn’t work here. Or rather it doesn't give you a nuanced outcome of the situation. Even if Devi had come out of the verbal confrontation victorious in her own eyes, society would have gaslighted her. And because of that sence of powerlessness, her anger would have gotten even greater, and she would have actually cursed Clara with the help of the Dark Mother. And Devi would realize that she can't behave in England the way she did at home. It must be infuriating, annoying, but it's something she and we as players have to put up with. It resonates with us, we have to feel these emotions. I would read, of course, how the heroine deals with injustice, but if we have a story about colonialism and the Dozen trying to throw off that yoke, why aren't we shown such scenes in all their colors? Because mere words and knowledge of the etiquette are not enough. I also think Devi's connection to the Dark Mother's anger could have played out as a sort of Death Note, where Devi curses someone and then misfortunes happen to those cursed people.

I think the artificial tone of the story is my main problem with season two in general. Devi finds herself in a foreign hostile country, but now she's acting like Amala in India and by simple demands she shuts up the lords and ladies left and right just by demanding respect and they just listen to her and shut up. And it looks like a safe route, like there are no stakes there. And with change of the “location” we have to feel discomfort - but not with food, weather and new clothes, but with a feeling like we’re walking on eggshells. Devi, in a conversation with lord What's His Face, intimidates him with Christian, and he stops harassing her. But then the same lord makes a shapito show of provocation at dinner, showing that he doesn't give a damn about Christian's opinion and doesn't give a damn about him in general. I'm not saying there shouldn't be provocation, it shouldn't have been so brazen and direct in words. After all, English high society can masterfully insult in a veiled manner, and the author's skill in writing such dialogues was clearly lacking here. Imho (just my imho) storywise here, in England, Devi should realize how lucky she is to be a member of high Bengali society where she is respected, valued and listened to, when in England she should feel that she is looked down upon, trapped and treated worse, like a second-class person, no matter what her background is. Here, if you are on a route with Christian, there should be a test of his and Devi's feelings in the context of the contempt of the entire upper class society for the "second class people" as they see Indian people to be. Christian has to experience that he has become a pariah in some way by choosing to marry a Devi.

I may have a misconception of how things worked back then, but my thoughts are that it's like all the tension is gone from the story. And there should be - it's a story essentially about two factions who hate each other, who don't want to make contact and settle because it's a story built on a colonial takeover. It's toned down here, yes, it's not historically accurate and all, BUT: if this base of historical events gives you an opportunity to use a great source of conflict, disagreement, and drama - you use it (that's why the provocation with beef at the dinner resonated with me -  I was fuming!). And alas, I'm feeling less and less of all that. Especially after the first season that SLAYED.

Also, Devi's offer to Doran to team up with Christian, to use him, would have looked different and even more tense if those political and social nuances worked, and their interaction wasn't just some game of "who knows more". What kind of games are these anyway, they're on the same side, behind enemy lines. Devi could have shared her frustration with her experience in England with Doran and then open some cards to him and admit that they need Christian's resources to determine who's sowing turmoil in the Dozen. There could have been some great GOT-style dialogue here, not just the "The Executioner despises the Englishmen and therefore won't even consider it, he needs to be persuaded", but "The Executioner has been through enough in his life to know that if there's a chance, you have to take it, politics is always played dirty". Doran is described as intelligent after all, not just angry walking muscles.

Well, that's just my thoughts and impressions, you're free to disagree with me here. I'm probably asking too much from a visual novel, I never read them with a magnifying glass to look for nitpicks, but…. But I really liked KFOS S1 ._. And I'm sad for the untapped potential.

SOCN - I was disappointed too. I think Remy's original idea to write that Agnia and Amen attack Livius and Eva but were saved by Seth worked better.

Now, it's friendship and magic, no conflict and drama. The two sides of the conflict resolve everything man-to-man, blow off steam and agree on everything.

And I have the feeling that all the seriousness of the situation has gone somewhere and everything has descended into some kind of farce.

Okay, Amen using Livius and Eva to achive his goals still works fine. But Seth, who fights Amen for fun and then agrees to cooperate with him - no. Just no. It's seems OOC. It doesn't work. Even if he's weakened like a God. Even if he needs Hemseth so much. Seth is a god, he has pride and principles, and there's no way I believe he'd choose to work with someone who kills his followers and weakens him. Neither will Amen agree to work with Seth who he thinks is some kind of Supreme shezmu. He hates the Supreme. He wouldn't go for an alliance either.

Has the writes watched too much of House of the Dragon? WHERE ARE MY CONFLICTS I'M ASKING YOU I'M GOING TO START A SCANDAL

I thought that Remy's decision that Amen and Seth couldn't be friendsto MC like the other favorites had to do with this intransigence, but no, some other reason.

What's the point of not being friends with the favorites if everyone's drinking beer and making truces with each other???

[i-smoke-chapstick]

'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART SIX]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Reader and Lee get tied up in a revenge plot.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Is reader really young and naive, or is she just young and angry? Lack of Jervis in this one, I apologize. I love Lee and Readers dynamic. The slow burn is slow burning. She fell first, he fell harder. More of reader dissociating. AU where The Ogre's still alive. Reader and Lee being mortal frenemies. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Small time skip. Reader continues to reference Jervis as "Mr. Tetch." Just you guys wait...they'll get there. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx @all-things-fandomstuck @killingboredom @sweetlimeharvest

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR, - 'PART FIVE, - 'PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, -'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN, - 'PART FOURTEEN,

♫ “I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

Nothing seems real anymore.

You'd heard of the crazies running around in Gotham. Whether that was from your father, mindlessly ranting over a stack of police files. Or your mother, who frequently talked to said crazies on a daily basis.

Prior to Mr. Tetch, you'd only ever dealt with one first hand. At least, one that was actively trying to murder your family. And that was none other than Jason Skolimski. The Ogre. You feel your body involuntarily shake when you even think about him.

You're unsure what happened to him, exactly. You were just thirteen when everything got turned on its head. But you do know one thing. His body was shipped to Indian Hill. Your mother and father never mention it. You wonder if your mother ever thinks about it. The small possibility...that man could still be alive.

She'd probably thank him. It was because of him that she embraced her "true self".

You bite your lip, lost in your head. Somethings been missing ever since Mr. Tetch turned out to be...whatever he is. Ever since he left, Tabitha’s seemed happy. Your mom hasn’t. Appearently his hypnotism act was attracting a bunch of publicity to the club.

You should've been thankful, like Tabitha. Good riddance. That should've been the end of it. But you had begged Jim to take you to the GCPD, to ask Alice questions. You needed answers. More than he did.

You always hated the GCPD. The last time you went to the department, you were young and naive. It was ‘take your child to work day.’ You watched a serial cannibal try to bite Harvey Bullock's finger off. Tale as old as time.

It didn't matter, regardless. Jim didn't let you go again. You remember the vague shouting match between you two. Good thing, maybe. Judging by the fact Mr. Tetch hypnotized a family of strongmen to kill everyone in the place. And then Alice impaled herself on a pole. All in the papers.

What does it matter? You're not sure why you let the whole situation get under your skin.

A few dreams, a few encounters, a few shared looks. You find yourself scoffing at your own blind idiocy. Maybe you are still young and naive.

You've been taking your rightful place at the bar, next to Butch. You two have been tossing back shots of tequila, mindlessly ranting at the same time to one another. Again, there’s comfort in knowing you both want to speak to someone that you can’t have.

"I don't understand. She doesn't even look at me anymore. I mean, she just looks at Barbara. Sorry, I know she's your mom, or whatever."

"Don't apologize. I don't understand either. Where the hell even is he?"

"Your dad?" Butch furrows his eyebrows.

No, you think. Mr. Tetch. You don't vocalize that though. You lie with a nod.

Maybe the alcohol caught up to you. You should've known better. Day-drinking never ends well. You cringe, remembering Harvey slurring his words, knocking on your dads apartment door. Either way, you aren't in control of your own body. Before you know it, you're leaving the club, tossing a wad of cash to Butch. He wolf whistles and takes it gladly.

You're just walking down the street. Maybe drunkenly. Kicking loose pebbles on the sidewalk, swinging around streetlamps. You'd expect a weird look or two from bystanders. But you realize no ones on the street except for you.

It's Gotham. You should be more concerned by the fact your alone. But it's broad daylight. Surely nothing could go wrong-

Before the thought can be fully thought out, a pair of arms grabs you from behind. You find yourself kicking and screaming, being dragged by a heavy-set man. Yay.

Huffing through the set of hands over your mouth, you're shoved into a trunk, light significantly dimming as it's closed. You hear the lock click, and you stop fussing. Attempting to calm yourself, you search your pockets for your phone. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. Your mom is a crime lord. Your dad is a cop, or rather, was one. You'll be fine.

You can't seem to find your phone in your pockets though. You feel your heartrate speed as you frantically start to search. The bar. You left it at the fucking bar. Nice fucking job Y/N. You definitely wouldn't survive in a horror movie.

You give up. You're defeated. Maybe they'll be a pair of nice human traffickers. Take pity on you. You sigh and throw your head back for the rest of the car ride. Squeezing your eyes shut, you manage to accept whatever fate is in store for you.

You had a good run, champ. A voice that sounds an awful lot like your fathers praises in the back of your mind.

Like a ragdoll, you're roughly placed on the floor. Eyes still trying to get used to the bright light, you feel both dizzy and discombobulated. Your head is pounding from any alcohol you had prior. Picked a great day to drink.

Blinking wildly, the first thing you manage to digest is being chained to a bathtub.

"Y/N?" A voice asks, and your eyes snap up. Staring wide eyed at you, just tied up as you are, is Lee Thompkins.

A million thoughts rush through your head. The first one you promptly register is what is this bitch doing here?

"Lee?" You mumble. You think this might be a hallucination, but if you were going to hallucinate someone, it wouldn't be her.

You two stare at each other for a moment. Tense, awkward. The last time you saw her was when your father witnessed her having moved on. You still remember the feeling, standing on your tiptoes to look through a window. Seeing your fathers heart break before your eyes.

You never really talked to her. She always tried to talk to you though. A lot. Too much. But she could never be the Barbara you used to know. No matter how hard she tried.

"What the fuck is going on?" You whisper yell. Lee looks at you, swallowing.

"Tetch blames Jim for Alice, and we're his means for revenge."

At the mention of his name, your blood runs cold. You didn't expect to ever see him again. Let alone see Lee. You watch, petrified, as Lee fidgets around through the bathroom cabinet.

For the most part the room is silent, other than the clanking of items being searched through.

"Leave it." Is all you say, watching her look uncontrollably for something to pick the lock. She sighs.

"You expect me to just sit here and die?"

"Yes." You hiss. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but you can imagine her face, disappointed and irritated. You don't care. You get mean when you're nervous.

"…It's not my fault. Jim is who he is, Y/N. I can't change that. Neither can you."

The truth stings harder coming from her of all people.

"Oh, give yourself some credit, Ms. Thompkins," You say the name snappish. "Without you, I hardly doubt we'd be in this mess."

That makes her perk up. Her nostrils flare, and the clanking sounds louder.

"You don't seriously blame me for this?" She still doesn't make eye contact with you, but she motions wildly to the locks on your ankles. You give a nonchalant, bitter shrug.

"If you didn't leave him, he wouldn't have become a bountyhunter."

"You don't know that." Her eyes soften in hurt. It fuels you.

"No. But I know you're a whore." The words escape your mouth before you internalize them. There's a long beat of silence before she finally turns to look at you, still sitting on the ground. She huffs.

"Maybe you're just really scared and this is your way of coping," She starts, "Or maybe you're just insanely committed to taking care of your father. Either way, all I'm interested in is getting out of here."

You look at each other with a mutual mix of regret.

"Try a cuticle pusher." You finally say, smiling humorlessly. "My dad's was a cop, after all. Taught me how to pick locks. I can walk you through it."

She nods. You nod. It's not the same feeling of understanding you get when talking with Butch. But...it's not too far off either.

"You really are his daughter." She sighs, snatching a cuticle pusher up from the counter.

"Thanks."

"It's not a compliment."

"Remember you have to-"

"I got it." Lee cuts you off, fiddling with the lock. You put your hands up in mock defense. At least your humors returning back to you.

"Can I ask you something?" You start off, slow. She glances at you for a moment, before returning to her chains.

"As long as it's not about why I left your dad." She mutters.

"Not exactly," You pause, looking for the right words to say. "Why did you return to Gotham? You looked all cozy down south."

"It's really none of your business."

You let out a loud scoff at that.

"You were ready to become my stepmother less than a year ago," You continue. At this, her movements falter. "You could've chosen any city. Any job. But you chose Gotham."

"You realize we both might die today, right?"

"Yes. And I don't want to die not knowing why you left us, just to come back and dangle it in front of my dad."

Her movements stop completley.

"I didn't come here for James Gordon." She's firm in her stance. In one last fluid moment, the lock unclicks before our eyes. She heaves a small sigh of relief.

She offers you the cuticle pusher. You take it. About three seconds in, it breaks. Shit.

Not the worst fate in the world, you think. You'd be able to see Mr. Tetch again. Ask him all the unanswered questions. That is, if he doesn't immediately kill you. Maybe you’re a fool to think a part of him enjoyed your company.

"You can still escape." You nod to Lee, hopeful she'll leave, hopeful she'll stay. With what you said to her earlier, you wouldn't blame her.

"I'm not leaving you here," She speaks. Her tone is gentle. Somewhat motherly. The sentiment actually makes guilt bubble up inside you. "There's got to be something else."

Looking around the room madly, you two are interrupted in your searching's.

"My, my," A voice drawls. You know that voice. "You two have been busy."

There he is.

Jervis stands tall, looking down at the both of you. You meet his gaze. For the first time in quite awhile, that feeling of electricity shoots through you again. You want to tear yourself apart. Find whatever part of your brain is fascinated with the idea of this man. Cut it out of you, examine it, and throw it away.

"Now, if you'd kindly join me in the dining room?" He speaks. You notice his eyes are focused solely on you, effectively ignoring Lee. He still looks relatively angry though.

Despite his demeanor, he offers you a hand to help you up. Lee watches his movements. You take his arm without question. That seems to spark something in his eyes. In Lee's eyes, too.

...You're unsure if that's a good or bad sign.

[metamatar]

ok so i am very much uninformed on politics, i decided at a younger age that i wasn't interested in it and therefore would not read or keep myself particularly informed about it. obviously this is a bad idea, and i want to change and keep myself informed on actual politics and well, abstract[?] (wrong word but cannot think of another, basically mean like. knowing which political .. stance ?? [idk. like marxist or communist or whatever] i might be.) ones as well. what's a good place to get started here? where do i look for actual politics going on in india since i'm pretty sure ndtv or whatever isn't exactly the best source? or maybe it is? idk, like i said i'm pretty uninformed on the matter but would like to learn more

so one thing is, in india you have to accept the media landscape is just dire because being a journalist with integrity is a bit like signing up to have your life ruined. all major media has been bought by hindutva already. what you have to do is more learn to read between lines, understand people's motivations, which is a matter of practice. a good way to start is to read analysis (not news reports) of the same incident in different media and you'll start noticing patterns. even more important imo is to talk and bounce ideas with a friend at a similar place as you or someone interested in politics who won't overwhelm you with their perspective. you can try online but idt its safe or advisable anymore to do that experiment online. i had debate club in university (sad) and some socialist reading groups (better) after. the thing is this journey to self education is kind of personal and im also not pedagogically oriented or trained? so lots of first person description instead of prescriptions.

i still check what's up on ndtv because it gives me a good pulse of what english language media and liberals are thinking. major newspapers i scan hindu and the indian express sometimes. online i have a look at newslaundry (also has some youtube content) and the wire, they're reader supported and haven't turned full hindutva yet. i read longer form things in the caravan and epw, but these are subscription based. i keep tabs on the latest round of hindutva fake news when alt news debunks it.

for the abstract things, i literally did an online course bc i was frustrated by what all the liberal arts grads seemed to already agree on. i did ian shapiro's moral foundations of politics which is available online as both youtube lectures and a textbook. if you want to go that route feel free but it's not necessary, you can also try to read the entries on wikipedia or stanford encyclopedia of philosophy (more expertise) when you encounter something unfamiliar and build up like that. podcasts like bbc in our time will often interview academics to give intros to many political philosophy concepts and thinkers. whatever your learning style supports! i think the important thing is to find something you are actually interested in, and take that tack. i like history, so i might read books about historical revolutions or historical forms of organising society or listen to podcasts like mike duncan's revolutions.

For communism the usual starting points are these very short pamphlets:

Principles of Communism by Engels

The Manifesto of the Communist Party by Marx

Wage-Labor and Capital by Marx

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific by Engels

feel free to ask for more specific questions!

[folksy]

when I was a depressed teenager I didn’t really watch movies or play video games and started reading books less which is something I really regret bc I feel I just wasted my time being chronically online or sleeping and brooding. when I could have been enriching my life more. you feel. I was really into music and twin peaks but I just felt things weren’t worth my time yet I was doing stuff that was less worth my time. which ironically the stuff I feel wasn’t worthwhile was stuff I was into a lot as kid (video games, reading, movies) so maybe that’s why I had that reaction as I was being the rebellious teen or whatever and growing out of things. I had an MP3 player and portable CD player as a kid but it wasn’t the same like where I had all these video games and movies. I didn’t go to my first concert until I was 16… and then on top of that teenage angst there was the depression just telling me nothing is worthwhile. I feel like I just missed out on a lot of stuff that I would’ve liked. anyway so I’m still super depressed in my twenties but this year thus far I’ve:

• watched 50+ movies, including finally watching stuff like parasite (I started it a few years ago but didn’t finish it), the terminator, spirited away, trainspotting, almost famous (a movie I was really interested in while in high school yet never actually watched), and in the mood for love

• finished some games that I had started like resident evil 5, as well as started and finished resident evil 2, 3, code veronica x, and 6 (had literally only did a little bit of the prologue and quit for a year lol but it wasn’t as bad as I was anticipating). I’ve been on a resident evil kick within the last year and a half to two years. I’ve played through 12 of them. wished I had gotten into them earlier as I feel they would’ve been great for me as a teen because I’ve always liked supernatural or spooky stuff (the same thing applies to horror movies- I wish I had gotten into them as a teen too) and the gamecube games I bought would’ve been cheaper lol

• read the stepford wives, fight club, brokeback mountain, american psycho, and red dragon. I read the last two both within a span of less than two weeks which is crazy to me as I haven’t been a big reader (of books) as an adult. I have nine books on hold on libby including giovanni’s room, the only good indians, and flowers in the attic

I know this was really long but if anyone has any recommendations or wants to talk about any of this stuff I’d love to…

[bookclub4m]

15 Law and Legal Non-Fiction books by BIPOC Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

Justice for Some: Law and the Question of Palestine by Noura Erakat

Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Y. Davis

Allow Me to Retort: A Black Guy's Guide to the Constitution by Elie Mystal

Looking White People in the Eye by Sherene H. Razack

21 Things You May Not Know About the Indian Act by Bob Joseph

Refugee Law After 9/11: Sanctuary and Security in Canada and the US by Obiora Chinedu Okafor

Aboriginal™: the Cultural and Economic Politics of Recognition by Jennifer Adese

Peace and Good Order: the Case for Indigenous Justice in Canada by Harold R. Johnson

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander

Policing Black Lives: State Violence in Canada from Slavery to the Present by Robyn Maynard

Let's Get Free: A Hip-Hop Theory of Justice by Paul Butler

A Matter Of Law: A Memoir Of Struggle In The Cause Of Equal Rights by Robert L. Carter

America's Constitution: A Biography by Akhil Reed Amar

Say It Loud! On Race, Law, History, and Culture by Randall Kennedy

Crisis and Command: the History of Executive Power From George Washington to George W. Bush by John Yoo

[revisitingstoneybrook]

#44 Dawn and the Big Sleepover: Chapter 1

We start off this book with another plot device!

Chapter 1 starts with a babysitting job. Dawn and Mallory are babysitting the rest of the Pike Army, who are jumping around, asking to read some letters out loud. And it sounds like Dawn is taking a little dig at Mallory here:

Have you ever babysat for a family of eight kids? Well, welcome to the Pikes' house. Fortunately, sitting for them usually involves two of us members of the Babysitters Club. Unfortunately, eight kids is a lot, even for us.

So Mallory's back to being considered a babysitting charge? Geez, everyone truly does hate Mallory.

Right on page 2, Dawn starts in on describing herself. I think Peter Lerangis (the ghostwriter) didn't care much for the blatant California stereotype that Dawn was, because he has her clarify it: I used to live in California, and if you met me, you might say "It figures." I have long blonde hair and blue eyes, and I'm into health foods and sunshine (not that every California girl is like that, but that's what a lot of people think). Throwing a wrench into Ann M. Martin's grand scheme, you rebel, you!

Sign #1 you can tell this is a Lerangis book - Dawn introduces a new phrase to the reader, and says she read it in a book and thought it was funny. This time, she says she and Mallory were on the "horns of a dilemma." They're facing a crisis because all the kids want to read their letters from their pen pals. And there's our plot device!

The kids (or, at least the ones in 2-5th grade...sorry Claire) are involved in Pens Across America, and writing letters to kids from Stoneybrook Elementary School's sister school. Because this is a BSC book, Dawn takes offense at the term "sister school" and says it should be called "sibling schools" because all the kids participate. She does realize it's the schools being referred to as feminine, not the students, right? Lord help her when she learns a language with masculine and feminine nouns.

Anyway, the kids are writing letters to Native American kids from the Pueblo of Zuni in New Mexico.

The kids are all excited about getting letters from their pen pals, and Dawn says Vanessa's so happy, you'd think Rachel was a long-lost sister or something (as if Vanessa didn't have enough sisters). Ouch. Dawn is getting a lot of digs in at the Pike family today!

The Pike Army all crowds around to look at Rachel's picture, and Adam expresses disappointment that his penpal doesn't look like an "Indian," like he expected. The other triplets tease him, saying he wants to see headdresses and warpaint. One of the triplets does the extremely offensive "war cry" to tease him too. This book came out in 1991, by the way, so I assume none of this would fly now.

Thankfully, Mallory steps in and tells Adam that his pen pal is Native American. Indians are from India. You should know that by now, especially after three letters.

Adam complains a bit more - he was expecting his penpal to have a more Native American-sounding name, and he says Conrad White doesn't sound like one. He's 10 years old, Mallory gets all this at 11, but he doesn't and he's a year younger? Geez, 10-year-olds in Stoneybrook really are that immature!

Nicky and Margo suggest it could be short for White Horse or White Smoke Signals, but Dawn thankfully cuts all three of them off and says A lot of the pen pals have English-sounding names. It doesn't mean they're not Native Americans. Again, this is a little jarring to see now, 33 years later.

Vanessa whines that she wants to read her letter, so Dawn tells her to. Rachel, her penpal, thinks it must be fun to have triplets in the house. Left out from this scene is Mallory bashing her head against the wall. She keeps reading, and Rachel teaches us a little bit about pueblos and what adobe means. She signs her full name, Rachel Redriver, making Adam feel even more cheated out of a real Native American as a penpal.

Jordan's next, and Dawn says he stumbles over the big words in his letter. Uh...the only "big" word in this is Sha'la'ko. Is his reading level hovering in Claudia Kishi territory? Anyway, Jordan's pen pal describes what the festival Sha'la'ko is. I worked in a library at the time I originally wrote this and I remember flipping through a book about the Zuni and Peter Lerangis did describe Sha'la'ko properly. Ann thanked someone in the preface for their help in researching Zuni culture.

Also completely dating this book, Jordan's penpal asks if they have Nintendo and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie in Stoneybrook. This book did come out in 1991 after all!

Jordan gets to the end of the letter and starts laughing. Vanessa snatches the letter away and reads out the final sentence, which is "My teacher smells like a cow!" in Pig Latin. Ew but totally a 10-year-old boy thing to write.

I think Lerangis fell asleep when he was writing this part, because then Claire calls Adam a silly-billy-goo-goo for some reason. He didn't do anything! Then Adam asks Jordan, "Did you teach Sam that?" and Dawn tells us Sam is Adam's penpal! We just went over this! Adam's penpal is Conrad White, the Zuni kid with a not Zuni-ish enough name for Adam!

Jordan reassures his brothers he made Sam promise not to tell anyone and Byron nods seriously because he's totes sensitive. Do they seriously think Pig Latin is some secret language? For one thing, Mallory taught it to the Arnold twins in an earlier book, so they should get on her case about that. They probably did because everyone hates Mallory.

Mallory quiets everyone down by suggesting they think of stuff to send their penpals, since they sent them school pictures. Dawn says Mallory's very practical and smart and cool under pressure and I agree with her. While the rest of the BSC is in freakout mode over stupid shit, she and Jessi can be the voices of reason sometimes. But Dawn says the problem is Mallory's parents are sooooo mean, because they won't let her wear wild clothes! How wild does Mallory expect to dress? Like Claudia level? Because I always thought Mallory's greatest desire was to wear sparkly sweatshirts and her parents reject those. Her parents did let her get her ears pierced, my parents wouldn't let me do that at 11.

Adam runs off because he gets a Great Idea (don't tell Kristy, she'll claim it as her own!) and returns with a Stoneybrook pennant. The other triplets joke they'll send it too. Dumb. Dawn calls them out on being uncreative so they go back to thinking. Byron comes up with bumper stickers, and Margo suggests decals. What 7-year-old knows the word 'decals'? Why didn't she just say 'stickers'? And how is that a better idea than a pennant...it's just another thing with Stoneybrook printed on it!

Mallory says none of those things are as special as their school pictures, but Nicky points out they don't have their school pictures yet. Yeah, Mallory! Dawn butts in and asks the kids to think of things they have in Connecticut that they might not have in New Mexico. Like....Stoneybrook souvenirs? Since the Pike kids aren't the brightest crayons in the box (and since this is the Pikes, it's got to be one of those giant boxes of 64 crayons), Adam and Nicky think of cable TV and rain. Cable TV doesn't exist in New Mexico?

The kids get to thinking about more personalized gifts to get their penpals and as we close the chapter, Dawn pretty much gives away the rest of the book:

That was back when the pen pal program was fun. Back when us older kids weren't involved. Simple. Easy. If only I had known what was about to happen.

Dun dun dunnnn!

[forest-of-stories]

Throwback Thursday, Fandom Edition: "It's Slinkster Cool"

I wrote a fan letter to Francesca Lia Block when I was 13.

I also enclosed a hand-drawn "family tree" depicting the interconnected relationships in her Weetzie Bat series, the omnibus edition of which I would eventually read and reread so many times that it literally cracked in half. I mentioned two family members in my letter, but at some point, I shared the series with Younger Sister as well. A couple of months ago, she went on a work trip to Los Angeles, and told us after returning that she'd looked around for landmarks from Weetzie Bat.

As a young reader, I was enthralled, not only by the lush descriptions of food and outfits and city streets that filled those books, but by their inherent sense of wonder and appreciation for creativity and chosen families, and by the version of adulthood that they seemed to offer. Maybe I didn't want to go to clubs or star in movies or learn to surf when I grew up, but I was very attached to the idea of sharing a beautiful house with all my friends, and maybe some adorable dogs, where we'd create the art that we loved and – to quote Missing Angel Juan, my favorite book in the series – live like "kids playing in the street before they have to go in for dinner." The life I eventually built hasn't always been like that, but I'm lucky to have experienced moments that feel similarly satisfying.

As with many childhood favorites, I can find a lot to criticize about Block's writing when I look back on it now, and so can other people. In 2013, Debbie Reese wrote about the questionable Native American representation in the Weetzie Bat books on her incredible American Indians in Children's Literature blog. James Frankie Thomas*, in an installment of his 2019 "YA of Yore" column, discussed the uncomfortable body issues that recurred across Block's canon (there's your content warning for eating disorders), as well as some of the limitations of the remarkable-for-its-time queerness in her books. But he also talks about why her work was genuinely appealing to so many readers, and I found myself nodding along with his observation that "Block’s style flattens magic into the everyday and imbues the everyday with magic... by the grace of luck, Block made it seem cool to be swooningly, squealingly excited about everything." I did include the phrase "sappy as that may sound" in my letter, but I like to think that Francesca Lia Block, of all authors, wouldn't be put off by sincerity.

She eventually wrote back to me, on a postcard that is now barely legible: "Thank you for the cool project and your note. I really appreciate it."

*Since writing the column, Thomas has come out as trans, and his byline and author bio reflect this, but the "YA of Yore" tagline still uses his old name and the pronoun "her." If you want to read his related essays, I recommend them, particularly the one about Animorphs, anoher beloved series that I talked about a couple of weeks ago.

[arwainian]

Reading This Week 2024 #9-19: catching up on the past few months

Hm. Well. I'm not judging myself because I fell behind on tracking my reading for a reason. School got intense! And I'm back to trying to track my reading now because I turned in my last project of the semester, and I should get this out of the way before I start up a summer job. Because this is going to be a long one I'm going to break my own formatting a bit and start with my ongoing/current reads and my thoughts on them. Then I'm going to put the as-exhaustive-as-I-can-tolerate list of completed reading under a readmore so I don't completely kill your dash

Current/Ongoing Reads:

True Biz by Sara Nović I'm over halfway through this and I'm having trouble not blazing through it at lightspeed because the chapters are short and readable. It's basically about three people at a school for the Deaf in Ohio, two students, one new, one very entrenched, and then also the headmistress. I'm endeared by the characters. I find the interludes between narrative chapters that are essentially fun fact sheets on ASL and Deaf culture interesting, especially in a book where a lot of the dialogue is translated and transliterated ASL, but honestly it feels jarring! It makes it feel like its trying really hard to be a Good and Informative book about Deaf people for a hearing reader, instead of letting itself exist as a good and relatable book for and about Deaf people, as written by a Deaf author. I am reading this for the Queer Lit book club that I attend.

The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers, audiobook narrated by Rachel Dulude Very early on in the audiobook for this. Reading for my SFF bookclub. One of the people there apparently really dislikes this book which will make for an interesting discussion. Off the top of my head thoughts it has that tone that's really endemic to current SFF that I don't really like, so we'll see if this book gets past that for me once plot and character arcs start kicking in

Reading plans:

as the above indicates I'm trying to keep up with my local monthly SFF and Queer Lit bookclubs! I'm also going to be trying to read along with Shelved by Genre's Junji Ito unit like I did for their readthrough of Earthsea, gonna dip my toes into some horror. I'm going to try finishing Living Alone by Stella Benson which I was supposed to read for a class earlier this year but I read half of and then abandoned. A friend has recommended I check out The Paper Menagerie by Ken Liu so I've gotten that out from the library, and I have a whole bunch of books on my book shelf that I actually own and need to start getting through now that I'm not in classes everyday

The last 2 and a half months of reading I did:

Read: "Scientific Racism and the Emergence of the Homosexual Body" by Siobhan Somerville The Farthest Shore by Ursula K. Le Guin, audiobook narrated by Rob Inglis The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien, audiobook narrated by Rob Inglis Ch. 1, 13-14 of Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis, audiobook narrated by Derek Jacobi excerpt from Bored of the Rings "The Hero is a Hobbit" by W.H. Auden On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong The Way of the House Husband, Vol. 10 by Kousuke Oono Race and the Education of Desire: Foucault's History of Sexuality and the Colonial Order of Things by Ann Laura Stoler "Sovereignty" by Joanne Barker "The Sovereignty of Critique" by Audra Simpson "The Uses of the Erotic: the Erotic as Power" by Audre Lorde "Stolen from Our Bodies: First Nations Two-Spirits/Queers and the Journey to a Sovereign Erotic" by Qwo-Li Driskill "Why I couldn't resist buying Monkman's notorious 'Hanky Panky'" by Howard A. Levitt "The Provocations of Kent Monkman" by Nick Martin "'Indians on Top': Kent Monkman's Sovereign Erotics" by June Scuduler "'A Particular Kind of Romantic Entanglement': Kent Monkman's Nation to Nation (2020) and the Limits of Canadian Political Pornography" by Eric Weichel "Our Coming In Stories: Cree Identity, Body Sovereignty, and Gender Self Determination" by Alex Wilson Intimacies by Katie Kitamura "Naturalism, Humanitarianism, and the Fiction of War" by Eleni Coundouriotis several essays by Barbara Godard on translation "Sexual Violence as a Tool of Genocide" by Andrea Smith Introduction, Chapters 1 & 4 and Conclusion of View from the Bottom: Asian American Masculinity and Sexual Representation by Nguyen Tan Hoang A Kiss that Stains the Innocence by Emu Soutome Dark Princess by W.E.B. Du Bois Justin Chin: Selected Works edited by Jennifer Joseph I Think Our Son Is Gay, Vol. 5 by Okura "Games, Storytelling, and Breaking the String" by Greg Costiyan sections of "Of Dice and Men" by David Ewalt sections of "Dungeons and Desktops" The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin, audiobook narrated by Robin Miles "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" by Ursula K. Le Guin "The Ones Who Stay and FIght" by N.K. Jemisin "'The Ones who Stay and Fight': NK Jemisin's Afrofuturist Variation on a Theme by Ursula K. Le Guin" by Mark A. Tabone Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi "Naturally Queer" by Myra J. Hird "Animal Trans" by Myra J. Hird "Biophilia, Creative Involution, and the Ecological Future of Queer Desire" by Dianne Chisholm "Non-white Reproduction and Same-sex Eroticism: Queer Acts against Nature" by Andil Gosine "Polluted Politics? Confronting Toxic Discourse, Sex Panic, and EcoNormativity" by Giovanna Di Chiro Tehanu by Ursula K. Le Guin Tales from Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin Cereus Blooms at Night by Shani Mootoo When Rain Clouds Gather by Bessie Head The Other Wind by Ursula K. Le Guin "Decolonization" by Hokulani K. Aikau "Decolonization is Not a Metaphor" by Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang Luke & Billy Finally Get a Clue by Cat Sebastian Severance by Ling Ma "The Scale of Realism in the Global novel" by Debjani Ganguly "Genderfuck: The Law of the Dildo" by June L. Reich "Fighting Bodies, Fighting Words: A theory and Politics of Rape Prevention" by Sharon Marcus Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree Tales of Nevèrÿon by Samuel R. Delany Public Rape: Representing Violation in Fiction and Film by Tanya Horeck sections of Fantasy and Mimesis by Kathryn Hume The Rage of Dragons by Evan Winter The Daughter of Odren by Ursula K. Le Guin

Skimmed: excerpts from History of Sexuality by Michel Foucault "Sex, Power, and the Politics of Identity" by Michel Foucault "Right of Death" by Michel Foucault "Ooo, Those Awful Orcs" by Edmund Wilson "Epic Pooh" by Michael Moorcook "The Hobbit" and "Tolkien's Lord of the Rings"from On Stories by C.S. Lewis "Child and the Shadow" by Ursula K. Le Guin "Tolkien and Modernity" by Anna Vaninskaya Prismatic Reader by Nayoung Kim Introduction to Reclaiming Power and Place: the Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigneous Women and Girls excerpts of MMIWG2SLGBTTQIA+ National Action: Final Report by Lezard et al. Introduction and Ch. 1 of Epistemology of the Closet by Eve Sedgwick "The Future is Kid Stuff" from No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive by Lee Edelman "Low Theory (Introduction)" from The Queer Art of Failure by Jack Halberstam "Introduction: Beginning with Stigma" from Underdogs: Social Deviance and Queer Theory by Heather Love Normal Life: Administrative Violence, Critical Trans Politics, and the Limits of Law by Dean Spade "Erotic Autonomy as a Politics of Decolonization" by M. Jacqui Alexander "The Erotics of Sovereignty" by Mark Rifkin "Race, Caste, and Nation" by Nico Slate excerpt of Ready Player One by E. Cline excerpt of Quag Keep by Andre Norton "I'm in love with someone that doesn't exist" by Annika Waern "What If: Planet Earth as an Actor" by Mathias Thaler "Trans-Corporeal Feminisms and the Ethical Space of Nature" by Stacey Alaimo Conflict Bodies: The Politics of Rape Representation in the Francophone Imaginary by Régine Michelle Jean-Charles "Reclaiming Indigenous Sexual Being: Sovereignty and Decolonization Through Sexuality" by Madeline Burns Introduction and "Aloha in Drag" from Defiant Indigeneity: The Politics of Hawaiian Performance by Stephanie Nohelani Teves Introduction to Indigenous Performances: Upsetting the Terrains of Settler Colonialism by Mishuana Goeman "Xoq'it-ch'iswa:l On her - They Beat Time, a Flower Dance Is Held for Her: Revitalization of the Hupa Women's Coming-of-Age Ceremony" from We are Dancing for You: Native Feminisms and the Revitalization of Women's Coming-of-Age Ceremonies by Cutcha Risling Baldy "The Soveriegnty of Indigenous Peoples' Bodies" by Leanne Betasamosake Simpson "The Project of Feminist Epistemology: Perspectives from a Non Western Feminist" by Uma Narayan "Black Feminist Epistemology" by Patricia Hill Collins "From Truth/Reality to Knowledge/Power: Taking a Feminist Standpoint" by Caroline Ramazanoglu "Escape from Epistemology?: The Impact of Postmodern Thought on Feminist Methodology" by Caroline Ramazanoglu "Re-imagining Feminist Theory: Transgender Identity, Feminism, and the Law" by Graham Mayeda "A Black Feminist Statement" from the Combahee River Collective "Critical What What? A theoretical systematic review of 15 years of Critical Race Theory Research in Social Studies Education" by Christopher L. Busey, Kristen E Duncan, and Tianna Dowie-Chin "The Marginalization of Harriet's Daughters: Perpetual Crisis, Misdirected Blame, and the Enduring Urgency of INtersectionality" by Kimberle Crenshaw "Colorblind Intersectionality" by Devon Barbado "Toward a Field of Intersectionality Studies: Theory, Applications, and Praxis" by Sumi Cho, Kimberle Crenshaw, and Leslie McCall "Sick Woman Theory" by Johanna Hedva "The Project of Ableism" by Fiona Kuman Campbell "Disability and the Normal Body of the (Native) Citizen" by Suan Schweik "Freaks and Queers" by Eli Clare "The Challenge of Prison Abolition: A conversation" by Angela Y. davis and Dylan Rodrguez "Carceral feminisms: the abolitionist project and undoing dominant feminisms" by Elizabeth Whalley & Colleen Hackett "The Deadly Fight over Feelings" by Rebecca Wanzo "Disband, Disempower, and Disarm: Amplifying the theory and practice of Police Abolition" by Meghan G. McDowell and Luis A Fernandez Introduction to Rape and Representation edited by Lynn A Higgins & Brenda R. Silver "The Word of Unbinding" by Ursula K. Le Guin "The Rule of Names" by Ursula K. Le Guin

if you made it through all that you deserve a cookie

[ellecdc]

Personally I don't get that last anon with the American reader issue...

I'm not even from america, nor Europe. English isn't even my first language.

I'm indian and i enjoyed the drink snob a Lot (i'm biased i like remus)

So if you by chance feel like your works are starting to not appeal to everyone or that you need to change anything, don't. I like the way you write. I'll read anything you put out lol <3

(I’m biased I like Remus) honestly babes same 😭

I think the thing with reader inserts is you’re hoping to immerse yourself into the story and perhaps the issue becomes if the character has too much background and such, the character deviates father and father from yourself. But I really don’t want to write placid, surface level readers - I want our reader to have personality and there to be reasons that they do what they do! That’s just the danger when reading multi-chapter reader inserts: you either get a cardboard cut out character or the reader deviates from yourself a bit!

I hope I’m able to write at least something that speaks to a little bit to everyone, but not all of my pieces may do that for every person.

Thanks so much for writing me and for reading, I’m so glad you’re here 🫶💖💖💖

Xoxo - Remus Lupin Fan Club

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics: Bert Terhune related notes.

1. Mary Virginia Haws, Bert's mom was a writer of novels, travelogues, memoirs, domestic manuals, etiquette booklets & cookbooks.

2. Cover of 1 of her house 'running' books.

3. Who doesn't recognize a Lassie poster? This being for 1 of her many movies.

4 & 5. Covers of some of Bert's many works.

6. At least 1 of Bert's short stories focused on the danger that spies & assassins posed to General George Washington.

7. Poster for the "Ogre" TV movie, with a great tagline!

8. Bust of Cleisthenes, the Father of Athenian democracy.

9. Bust of Alexander Pope, the English poet, translator & satirist on society & politics.

10. John Dryden painting, an earlier English poet, literary critic, translator, satirist & playwright.

Notes (on yesterday's post):

1. The Adventurers Club of NY was a private men's club founded in 1912 by one A. Hoffman.

Its main functions were monthly dinners & a weekly lunch.

Their main rule was that "No one talks about Fight Club!"

There's complete silence on most of their activities.

Yet, for a secretive group, they certainly went out of their way to announce their events.

First, they published The Adventurer, a monthly newsletter that ran until 1960!

Then they had a weekly radio show, the Gold Seat Associates, where club members spoke of the most exciting moment of their lives.

The Adventurers Club finally faded out during the 1970s.

2. Lassie is the star of an American TV series (1954 to 1973) & several movies.

'She' (actually male dogs were used!) is a smart & fearless collie living in a Virginia farm with her companions - human or otherwise.

Later in the show, Lassie worked with forest rangers - out in the wilderness!

There's also an animated series that brought Lassie's heroic acts into the 2000s.

Lassie's latest film came out in 2022...

3. Mary V. Haws wrote several novels set in the southern states before the Civil War, which began in 1861.

(But, this was actually only after many decades of rising tensions - mostly on the subject of slavery.

It only ended after 4 years & some 610,000+ deaths!!)

Haws completed her last book at the age of 88 - while she was quite blind!

4. Other books by Bert Terhune are: "World's Great Events", "Famous American Indians", "Wonder Woman in History", "Around the World in 30 Days" & "Superwomen."

5. Scribblers are people who write for hire or as a hobby. Usually, scribblers worked for newspapers & magazines.

It's just that readers don't actually like their articles!

6. The American Revolution lasted from 1775 to 1783. Its causes were British taxes, the Boston Massacre & the Intolerable Acts.

Only 45% of colonists supported this war - as it forced neighbors against each other!

In Ben Franklin's case, it permanently tore his family apart...

7. Don't know why Lovecraft equates the famous folk he mentioned with ogres - except for Bonaparte, maybe.

Ogres are hideous looking, human eating giants from fairy tales & folk- lore.

It's no better in slang, as it describes "a person who's monstrously ugly, cruel or barbarous."

(Shrek they are not!)

Ogre comes to us thru France. But, it's actually from Etruscan (ancient north Italian nation & language) "Orcus", God of the Dead & punisher of oath- breakers.

8. "Where freedom 1st arose..."

A. This would be ancient Athens, in Greece on 508 BC. That's when Cleisthenes 1st set up a democratic government there.

(But, Howard could be referring to the American Revolution again.)

B. In that case, Congress did approve in becoming independent on July 2nd, 1776, thru the Lee Resolution.

We now celebrate when our politicians started signing the official Declaration of Independence, on July the 4th.

But, it took some time before all of the congressmen actually did so...

England didn't really 'recognize' our victory until the Paris Treaty of 1783!

Even then, Britain tried to 'reacquire' its 13 colonies during the War of 1812...

9. HPL seemed aware of his writing limits.

His evoking of imagery & emotion rested upon his skill at following strict poetic structures & his own aesthetic taste.

Lovecraft thought it more important to be formally correct, rather than to be creatively interesting.

10. As to Howard's personal writing style, it's actually his own copying of the forms of A. Pope & J. Dryden.

Pope was 1 of the most prominent writers of the 1700s.

Dryden was the 1st Poet Laureate of England & is chiefly responsible for introducing heroic couplets & the triplet into English poetic structures...

END.