this book is made with lust and love

I’m tired. It’s exhausting giving your all to a person who continuously breaks you. I’m mentally, physically, emotionally worn out. Chasing you drained me. Putting my all into you drained me. I stay up until four in the morning thinking to myself how crazy you have made me. You did this to me. What hurts the most is that we both know you are hurting me, but neither of us want to do anything to stop it.
—  How can i love him without hurting myself?

Notes from SJM Nashville Event

Sorry these are so late, but here are notes from the Nashville event Tuesday night. Its kind of a jumbled mess, I typed as she spoke. ACOTAR at end.


Tower of Dawn is a parallel novel, completely line up with EOS
Planned for this to be Yrene’s return
Action, Romance, Shirtless scenes
Little Raunchy
Yrene is one of her favorite characters shes written
Yrene is calm, strong, self confident, determined to do good in world.
Sets up final book
“People who spoil things are the devil”
Ch. 3 find out Yrene is the one attempting to heal Chaol
One of the best healers in the Torre Cesme
Has a hatred for the empire
Not happy has to heal Chaol, because empire killed her mother
Has a stubborn streak
Sarah tried best to get right and be respectful of disabilities
Watched videos on how to get around with a wheelchair, take a bath, get on couch etc.
As realistic as she could in a fantasy setting
Chatted with people about experience in wheelchairs
Explore Chaol’s emotional baggage, he is reluctant to talk about feelings, goes on a journey

Hardest thing about going on tour is leaving her dog.
Her dog is a drama queen and runs her life

Wrote first draft of ToD in 5 days, eventually became 180000 words

Major shit happens that will impact final book, must read it.
Wrote book on drugs for illness that made her super focused.

Story about healing and finding life again, wrote it when she needed to go through that journey as well.
Her emotion was at that of Heir of Fire.

Calls pages bible pages, says she could go for a 500,000 word book for final ToG (not started on it yet)

Love (or Lust) at first sight when met husband
Hardest question to ask Sarah is Spike or Angel

As much as she plans ahead, her characters take their own journeys, doesn’t force her characters on their own course
They usually end up where she wants them
Feels like magic to her, like this is happening in an alternate universe and she is just channeling it.

Acotar-Tog not part of her plans (“for now”)
Sarah would make a better assassin than queen according to herself, other way around according to her husband.
She makes her husband trap insects and release them, won’t let husband even kill gnats
Love animals more than human beings
Played soccer for 10 years, founder of varsity swim (worst in league)
“When in doubt ladies just whine, dump extra curriculars and whine your way through it.”
All these names are a joke, regrets Chaol’s name.
One regret, dog dies in Throne of Glass
Abraxos is inspired by 2 things, Ferdinand childrens book and her cousin’s dog Buddy which they saved from side of road and had been a bait dog to teach dogs how to fight. Tribute to Buddy
Chapter about Abraxos would be him sniffing flowers, would chase bumblebees, think of Manon’s hair. (“The Wyvern and the Bee”)

Bad advice motivated her, teacher ranted about fantasy books weren’t real books Philip Pullman was a hack etc.
Had a public livejournal that everyone read, she found out from a drunk girl
Wrote in journal “I hope my teacher is crushed to death by a box of fantasy books.”
A lot of people are going to tell you you cant do it, dont listen to them. If writing is what you love do it. It’s a long journey to get published, you have to bust your ass. Turn off the internet turn off your phone and write. The only person that will keep you from getting published is you.


Dad had heart attack over the summer, better now, he almost died, 5% survival rate, lost a month and half time of last ToG book writing.

Was scared dad wouldn’t see the end of ToG series. Dad said he wouldn’t recommend Tower of Dawn to people who have recently had a heart attack. Will have time now to not rush last ToG with new fall date.

Acotar Spinoff
First of spinoff projects
Novella meant to be read by everyone
Structure of new books is different romantic pairing in each book with new and old characters
Promise will not be as long as Tower of Dawn, around 60,000 words
Full of Smut
Overarching plot to spinoff books
No set date for first full Acotar spinoff novel, but has 300 pages of first book written
2019 or 2020 for first full novel
Novella takes place during Feyre’s birthday, cozy vibe and dark emotions, narrated by both.

Rules - Gabriel Reyes x Reader (NSFW)

For my dear @arlaina28 - the only thing missing is the big confession buuuuut I don’t think one is needed if you know what I mean! ;)

Words: 4,160
Warnings: NSFW, smut, Porn with just a bit of plot


You shouldn’t look at him the way you do, but Gabriel Reyes was hard not to look at. His presence demanded attention, probably not the kind you were giving, but here you were staring again.

He was so handsome and strong. His voice alone made you tremble with excitement. Love or lust? You weren’t sure, but one thing was certain: he did not feel the same way – there was no way he ever could. First, you were his subordinate and secondly, it just broke so many rules. Albeit, rules you were willing to break, but Gabe did things by the book… at least you thought he did.

“Agent, you still with us?” you heard someone ask. It sounded as though it was coming from a distance, but you were looking at the source.

Shit. He had caught you staring.

He smiled at you and you just about melted. “Something on my face?” he asked teasingly.

Keep reading

5 Books on Art Provenance
A Shelfie from Kelly Davis, Research Assistant at the Getty Research Institute

Hi, I’m Kelly Davis, research assistant in the Getty Provenance Index at the Getty Research Institute. My background is in English, but I graduated with a master’s of library science and a master’s in art history from Pratt Institute in 2014. Books have been an important part of my life since I can remember. These are 5 that inspire and aid me in my work.

1. The Rape of Europa: The Fate of Europe’s Treasures in the Third Reich and the Second World War by Lynn H. Nicholas (Vintage Books, 1994).

One of the first books to focus on Nazi-era provenance and also one of the most famous. The publication of this book in the early ‘90s launched an international interest in the repatriation of art looted from Jewish art dealers and families during World War II and encouraged organizations to create guidelines such as the Washington Conference Principles on Nazi-era Confiscated Art (1998) and the AAM Guidelines Concerning the Unlawful Appropriation of Objects During the Nazi Era (2001). It inspired me to focus on provenance in my art historical studies and might have been the first step to where I am today.

2. Rogues’ Gallery: The Secret Story of the Lust, Lies, Greed and Betrayals that Made the Metropolitan Museum of Art by Michael Gross (Broadway Books, 2009).

While at the Last Bookstore in DTLA a few years back, a good friend of mine pulled this book out and handed it to me, exclaiming that she loved it and I had to read it. Somehow I hadn’t heard of it, but it piqued my interest as I enjoy nothing more than a gossipy read about the inner workings of established museums. While this isn’t about provenance specifically, and is more “pop” than some of the other academic texts on this list, it’s a fun and fascinating story and will certainly intrigue any lover of museums.

3. Memories of Duveen Brothers by Edward Fowles (Times Books, 1976).

This, along with a small stack of other books written by J.H. Duveen, or about the House of Duveen by those with intimate knowledge of it, have been gracing my desk for months. Like Knoedler & Co., Duveen was instrumental in the migration of European art to America in the early 20th century, and also like Knoedler, the Getty Research Institute owns the Duveen archive. Here in the Provenance Index, we’re interested in seeing what more we can do with stock book records we have on site, so I’m boning up on my knowledge of this great firm. These books are older primary sources, meaning what is said in them could be quite subjective. Of course, this is also what makes them so delightful.

4. Provenance: An Alternate History of Art edited by Gail Feigenbaum and Inge Reist (Getty Publications, 2012).

This book was a gift from Dr. Frima Hofrichter, one of my mentors in graduate school. Frima knew I had been accepted to the internship program here at the Getty, and what gift better than one on provenance published by the GRI and edited by Gail Feigenbaum, one of our esteemed associate directors? If Nicholas’s book was my introduction to “pop” provenance, this was my introduction to the academic career path ahead of me. A collection of essays on topics from collector’s marks to provenance in the Third Reich, reading this acquainted me with a number of respected scholars in the field, and names I would encounter during my time at the Getty.

5. The AAM Guide to Provenance Research by Nancy Yeide, Konstantin Akinsha and Amy Walsh (American Alliance of Museums, 2001).

The quintessential reference for provenance research, not so much a book you read but one you keep coming back to. Although the guide is being refined as we move forward in the 21st century (see the ArtTracks project at the Carnegie Museum of Art for more info), this book is still the standard for curators, librarians, collectors, and anyone else involved in provenance and the history of collecting. It’s been invaluable for the past few years as I’ve worked on the Knoedler & Co. stock books database. The appendices are particularly useful to a researcher, with information on dealer archives and locations, as well as a list of “red-flag” names to watch out for when dealing with World War II provenance.

anonymous asked:

It never occurred to me until now, but one of the reasons I approve of Jonerys is because it's a ship that actually takes Dany's desires into account. Jorah x Dany completely ignores her feelings on the matter (which she has made very clear). And I'm leery of Tyrion x Dany because it opens her up to so much unfair criticism if she doesn't completely look past his disability (as if she isn't allowed to have sexual preferences). This might controversial so feel free not to publish.

It’s actually both Daenerys’ , and Jon’s , first consensual adult / romantic relationship. 

Daeneys was sold to Drogo by her brother , for his benefit ( though not in the end , obviously ), she loved him out of duty, out of obligation and no small amount of self preservation. 

Ygritte was Jon’s senior by a good five years ( a fact they don’t address in the show, but they really do gloss over character’s respective ages. Like Robb is only 16 when he was at war, when he was the young wolf. As jon was only 15/16 with Ygritte, and she was in her early 20′s , if not 20. ) Jon was captured by the wildlings and yes , he adapted to survive ( much like Daenerys with the Dothraki ) , and was coerced , sexually, by Ygritte ; he did develop feelings after the fact but make no mistake that they didn’t occur organically, and he was a young boy, who’d essentially made a vow of abstinence. She knew that, didn’t care, and disregarded something that meant a great deal to him. 

Daenerys’ relationship with Daario was, to be fair , entirely willing on both parts it was hardly a loving affair , it was torrid, heated, passionate yes but Daenerys felt no real love, he was a warm body in her bed. 

Daenerys and Jorah ? Well, Jorah in the books is far creepier than in the show and that’s where I first based my opinion of him; a giant hulking dude who lusted after a 13 year old girl ? Who spied on her, betrayed her, and exclusively slept with prostitutes who looked like her ? That’s fucking creepy. And in the show they hyper-fixate on his love and loyalty for her, ignoring the fact that he was a grown ass man toiling over the fact that a child didn’t reciprocate his feelings. 

He envied her partners, he wanted her for himself, to himself, but a part of him knew it would never happen.

I’m not ? really gonna address the Tyrion thing because I DONT think he has any romantic feelings for Daenerys . He respects her as a person , and as his Queen. and ? her physical preferences to not sleeping with him because he’s a dwarf is high key an ableist statement, so, refrain . 

Now Dany and Jon ? Are EQUALS , the first King she’s met , the first man of his stature who has EARNED what he has , who has won the love of his people no less than she had . It’s the first comparison we see when they meet, the first thing said of either ; that they are beloved, and that they protect people from monsters. They might meet as equals , but there’s initially discourse, and rightfully so from either of their perspectives . 

They come to TRUST one another in time and they build an alliance before anything else. Neither of them have built anything quite as significant with someone they’d later love.  It’s a predestined sort of thing so yes, it’s going to have a bit of a rushed feel about it but the show and novels have taken their time to build careful story parallels so that when they finally DO meet, when these paths converge, its kismet. 

Daenerys and Jon are endgame for each other, there’s six episodes left , and the last one we’d seen was their love flourishing, was their trust and dedication to one another, in full view. And , a touch of their destiny being shown as decided from the start. 

Jonerys is it, folks. it is known. 

crave you

summary: highschool au//popular boy jefferson is pining over studious alex super hard and alex doesn’t notice him (yet) (mention of past jeffmads)

words: 1,140

warnings: none! super fluffy

this is totally incomplete but we can change that ;-)


Keep reading

the sun

hi send me requests 

this is just something i wrote up at three am drinking tea and thinkin abt how much i love girls but yes this is still remus x reader don’t fret might make this gay later

edit: read the gay version

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

i love you but the distance is hard

I’ve never had a love like this before. All the relationships I’ve had before have been within distance. My past relationships were simple, we probably met at school or at a book shop. But us, we’re a different story.

We met when I was on vacation. It was beautiful, almost magical. You were a mere stranger but you noticed me in a town where no one knew me. You came up to me and smiled, that dazzling, beautiful smile and said “You’re not from around here, are you?”

How could you know that? How could you look at me and know that I wasn’t from your small town in Nebraska?

“No, I’m not.” I said, laughing awkwardly because what else could I do?

“I know I’d never seen a face as pretty as yours around here before,” He smiled, again, and continued, “Would you like to grab coffee with me?”

Normally my nerves and my head would be screaming “stranger danger” but they weren’t. They were yelling at me to say yes. So I nodded. I agreed to a coffee date.

But after that coffee date, I wanted more than just one date. I wanted one more date, one more phone call, another text. He was something special. I knew it. I could feel it. We spent the next three weeks together. He showed me what he called home.

But then I went home, and the distance didn’t mean much at first. The distance just made our relationship stronger. But it’s been four months since I’ve last seen you and it’s hard. I love you but the distance is hard. I love you but I don’t know how much longer I can pretend like it doesn’t hurt to not have you here.

I fell in love before I knew what it really meant to love and feel loved. I always loved the wrong people with my right intentions. I always loved them for beauty and intelligence before I realized I had nothing to offer. That’s why I picked up the pen. I became a poet years later, but I believe I was always one. The road leads to the same ending. I was born a poet, I will die as a poet. I always loved today, I do. Even if I hate it now. Valentine’s Day, the only holiday where lovers had an excuse to love another. It was bullshit and a scam. I fell for it every time. Would you be my Valentine? Give me a kiss just one more time. The way she slammed my back into a wall and took my first kiss is something I could never give to you. The winds blowing past your hair and you bend over to pick up dropped love letters, I could never deliver those to you. My lovers of yesterday still haunts me in every way. From the way I attempt to describe love to the way I want to be loved. You know the scary thing? I loved them like how I wanted to be. For beauty, that’s why they always left. I was never beautiful enough. For pretty eyes, that’s why they left. I had chinky eyes filled with scratchy darkness, the kind near stars we could not see. The entire black night rests within me. I was never good looking enough, but I chased their beauty as I fell apart. The sex sells quote, that too is bullshit. I loved one for her body and let me tell you now. The hardest lesson to learn is lust and love. There is a big difference. If I loved you, I’d respect your body in ways that it made you feel like a book with a perfect cover. If I had lust for you? You’re in trouble. The lines are blurry. The lights are off. The hands reach and I’m afraid, the soul is weak. I’m left speechless as I hung onto the last parts of sex. The cuddling, being held, a warm embrace, those are the best parts of the relationship that lust forsakes. The sweet innocence you can take from someone, you can never give back. You can only hand them blood. Your blood. I am no angel. We are as we should be and destined to be, raised by our environment and our inner demons. I will apologize as I breathe through my coffin. She’ll see my soul leave this place shattered in a million places that she once tried to stay. She was a writer just like you. Filling my smile with more fucking poetry. That’s why I hate today. It’s a reminder of how dead I am. How I chase the outer appearance of the love aspect. How I don’t respect anyone or anything. How I can verbally abuse her to the point where silence is our only conversation. Yes, it’s true. I am, but another cliché. I was going to write you a happy poem. Fourteen for the days we had to wait for today, but I decided to remind you and myself of why I don’t deserve you. Or your flowers. Or roses. Or fucking daisies. This is why I fucking hate myself. No fucking metaphors. Just blood and another reason not to call you mine. You have my heart in a black trash bag cut into bits, but you still called me beautiful. That’s why I’ll always love you, sweet daisy of mine. You broke me a few times, but it’s okay. For as many times as I broke her, I deserve to be broken. I broke you right back. I’m sorry about our future and how it’ll never happen. I have guilt in my soul and this fucking poetry isn’t enough for me to attain redemption. I’ll write songs about you. I’ll write about you. I’ll always love you. Goodbye. Sleep easy each night and forget about me as you dream lightly.
—  This is why you’re my Valentine.
If this feeling flows both ways, was sorta hoping that you’d stay.
Baby we both know, that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.
—  Do I Wanna Know
She was hopelessly destroyed and beautifully broken at every flawless seam she worked tirelessly to hide but god I loved her.. and her perfect imperfections.
—  C.B. -I’ll write a book one day.
Nostalgia

Riverdale AU: Betty Cooper got all she wanted; she married Archie, has two beautiful redheads, does regular lunch dates with Veronica and works with her doting husband at Andrews’ Construction. Yet, the memory of her loner turned Southside Serpent boyfriend from high school lingered in her deepest, darkest memories… until he returns.

Pairing: Bughead, hints of Archie/Betty

Rated: M

Word Count: 2236

This is my first fanfic (posted on tumblr) so feedback is welcome! Also, if you would like to make any request, prefeably bughead related, I would be happy to oblige :)

—————————

Betty Andrews dropped off little AJ and Andrea at Riverdale Elementary School before driving her silver mom van down to the construction site. Archie had landed a big deal with Lodge Industries, it didn’t hurt Betty’s best friend was the CEO, on the land that the poisonous Thorn Hill once stood on. The land had been untouched since the fire almost twenty years ago. Lodge Industries and Andrews’ Construction was going turn the property into luxury condominiums and exercise the old demons planted in the soil. Not like Riverdale needed more rich snobs, Betty had thought.

But before any of that could happen, Betty needed to drive up the paved road that led to her work trailer and the bare bones of her husband’s project. The trailer was empty when she entered and Archie’s father’s old construction hat was no longer on the wall. Her red headed husband must have wanted to get the crew started early. It was late September in Riverdale, and the crew would need to work triple time to get the project where it needed to be before the ground froze.

The blonde unpacked her posh briefcase, a present from Veronica, before sitting down and beginning to go through payroll. She remembers around this time twenty years ago when Jason Blossom’s body was found on the chilled shores of Sweet Water River. It had sent her and her friends on an adventure that brought people together and tore them apart. Betty and her first real boyfriend, Jughead Jones III, were among the people torn apart. It was a perfect cocktail of darkness that had turn Jughead into his father, a Southside Serpent. She had not seen him nineteen years, two months, and twenty-one days. No one had seen him since then. He permanently rooted himself on the Southside and dared not cross. It was like he was a dog with a shock collar.

That’s why Betty Andrews almost pissed her designer skirt when Jughead Jones III swung open the trailer door. He had on heavy combat boots, his weathered old beanie and chains on his tattered Southside Serpent jacket that tinkled when he walked to her desk. She wondered idly if that was the same jacket he got that night the Serpents came to his house and interrupted them having sex. They didn’t completely cock block the two lovers— she believed him when he said he was a Serpent for protection and let him take her virginity. When he started making shady deals in back alleys and kept his lips tight about everything, she knew he really became a snake. He became his father.

He certainly filled out the jacket much better than he did when he was sixteen. His face was hardened, his shoulders broad and face scruffy. She knew he would grow up handsome like his father. But his beauty didn’t distract from the fact he dropped an old black duffle bag full of cash on her desk.

“Jughead?” Was all she could manage. This moment had played this moment so many times in her head, seeing him again. Betty would hug him and punch him and thank God he was safe. Instead she sat like a scarecrow. Her lips were numb and her arms were tingling. It’s like all of life’s answers were in front of her, she just had to ask the right questions, but couldn’t speak. As a matter of fact, Betty had several questions, like what the hell was he doing at Thorn Hill, why was he dropping money in front of her, and… was he seeing someone?

He nodded with that old lopsided grin that used to make Betty swoon. His face showed that he had expected her to act this way. Speechless and in awe. The way she used to act in the privacy of her pale pink bedroom, with his black hair and signature beanie between her white thighs.

“Every great villain makes a reappearance,” he smiled, his voice surprising Betty with how low and careful his words sounded. “The snake slithers back to Riverdale.”

He still spoke like a writer.

“You were never the villain, Jughead,” Betty shook her head, already done with the conversation. Her mind was already spinning with reasons for Jughead’s return and his money. Trying to buy out Archie? Bribe for shutting down the project on Thorn Hill?

“You made me feel like one,” Jughead’s straight face didn’t falter, but his voice sounded small like when they had their fights back in high school towards the end of it all.

Betty didn’t have a response for what he said. Because back then, she had believed he was a villain. He was running drugs she later found out. But with time comes understanding. The Serpents were his family. The only semi-functional family he had and he would do anything to help them. Just like she would do anything to protect AJ and Andrea. But this was no longer about her, or about her and Jughead.

“Is Archie available? I want to talk to him about a deal,” Jughead said.

“No, he’s not available. He’s on site. I’m part of the company, you can speak with me about the deal,” Betty smiled with a hint of the old warmth Jughead felt back in high school. When she touched him, that was he could say to describe how he felt. Warm. And Jughead was hardly speechless.

“Alright then. I gathered enough money to buy the old drive in. I already had a discussion with Veronica and she is accepting my offer. Now, I’ve come to Archie to hire him for the construction.”

Betty scoffed and stood on her nude heels. None of this seemed plausible. Veronica, her bestie, would have told her if her first love was back on this side of town and had enough money to buy such a valuable piece of land.

“Veronica would have told me,” Betty accused.

“I swore her to secrecy.”

“What do you plan to put there?”

“Rebuild the Twilight.”

Jughead was still the hopeless romantic, the nostalgic loser who just want to find a home. Betty sympathized with him. There were moments when she sits in the fancy restaurant where Pop’s once stood and craved the smell of grease wafting from the kitchen and the taste of classic vanilla slurping down her throat. She often revels in those memories of high school… the memories of Jughead. He understood on a level Archie was never able to. He had unwavering belief in her and accepted her emerging darkness. Betty reminded herself that it was unfair that she didn’t accept his.

“It took you twenty years to get the money?”

“I’m not The fucking Penguin from Batman, Betty. You think I’m some kingpin. I’m still Jug,” he shrugged. “I’ve always been him. The one you grew up with. The one you once loved.”

Betty finally came out from behind her desk. It was her layer of protection that she used to hopefully keep her from what she wanted to do since his rugged frame entered the trailer. But the doe eyed pleading of twenty years ago, the same eyes that begged her not to leave him, now begged her for something else. He wanted to rebuild the Twilight to make things go back to the way they were before.

And in that moment, with the chill outside of impending winter, with her husband outside those doors, with a Southside degenerate in front of her, she too wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

Jughead read it in her eyes. He read her like a book he wrote himself. He knew every word, but he was impressed how they took on a shape of their own.

“I’m sorry, Juggy,” Betty said, stepping ever so closer to him. He smelled like pine.

“You know when you use to call me Juggy it made me weak,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

Betty was even lower, “I know.”

Jughead’s callused hands gripped Betty’s face and pulled her pouty lips to his. As soon as they made contact, it was like they were in FP’s trailer again, that rainy night, full of love, lust, and teenage hormones. Betty stopped the kiss only for a moment to swipe credit card statements and timecards and Jughead’s money, all for her husband’s business; onto the floor so she could back up onto the cheap desk and pull the dark-haired man’s hips closer to her’s by hooking her hips around him.

The old lovers wasted no time in shedding Jughead’s jacket, ripping off his ripe beanie and shedding Betty’s beige blazer as their lips kissed each other swollen. With the blazer gone, Jughead had open access to Betty’s neck, which he fully took advantage of. His suctioned kisses left saliva along her neck and down her chest. She knew she would be purple and have some explaining to do, but at this moment, it was her and Jughead, trapped in the time machine of the trailer; back in high school with high stamina and insatiable desire for one another’s bodies.

Betty did the honors in raising Jughead’s arms and taking off his plain white tee. She paused to take in his chest. This was not the body of a boy—but the body of a man who has seen the darkness. Despite almost being forty, his chest was tight and black hairs splintered down his stomach and into his black jeans. She raked her fingers over his chest and he smiled like a Colgate commercial because he knew that she was impressed. Archie may have been hot in high school, but that was high school. Archie may have married the only woman Jughead had ever loved, but right now, the sight of his body alone was leaving his former best friend’s wife breathless.

He picked up where they left off and unbuttoned her slick polka dotted blouse to reveal a white lace bra. Her nipples were hard and begging for Jughead to release them. He noted how quickly he took her bra off compared to when they were teens, but her eyes went blurry when he took a pink nipple in between is lips and tugged on the other with his fingers. He looked up at her as he sucked on her breast, and that look of innocence he had in his eyes as he had a mouthful of her tit made Mrs. Andrews groan and slide off her skirt without warning. Her underwear went too; there wasn’t any more time for foreplay. It seemed like her life depended on Jug’s cock being inside her. Jughead wanted to savor this moment, he doubted there would ever be another in the history of Riverdale, but Betty’s dragged Jughead’s pants and boxers down without asking permission. She found herself on her knees in front of his member. It was longer than she remembered, thicker too, but she was ready for it. She gave a few appreciative licks to his bulbous head, making Jughead’s moans rumble throughout his body and down to his groin. Betty smiled at the effect she still had on him.

Betty resumed her position on her desk and laid there in only a pair of heels, lips swollen and parted, begging for Jughead. The little hairs around her scalp fell loose from her ponytail and curled, framing her face like a pair of hands. Jughead put his hands there instead and held her face as he entered her. It had been twenty years since he had found himself here, nestled inside the white-hot heat of Betty’s vagina, but it felt like he never left. They just stayed like that for a few minutes.

This is where she was supposed to be. This is where she imagined herself twenty years ago on a September day much like this. Jughead’s place is in between Betty’s legs, looking at her adoringly like he is now. He still loved her, and although she didn’t want to, she never loved Archie like she does Jughead. They couple could no longer take the heat of one another Jughead started to send lazy thrusts into Betty. It wasn’t lazy in the way of not caring, but lazy in how it was slow, how his entire length pulled out and dove back in at an excruciating pace so she felt every pulse and vein throughout his loving cock. Betty was seeing stars, those yellow cartoon ones, when he fucked her so expertly. She sat up so their bodies could be as close as possible. She pulled him closer and squeezed like she was trying to squish them together until they became one. Jughead gradually sped up until he was a piston firing into her twenty years of built of love, hate and loneliness. His right hand found her clit and rubbed forceful circle around the bundle of nerves as their mouths engaged in wet kiss and licks.

Betty let loose first, crying out Jughead’s name certainly and lovingly. Knowing that she needed this just as much as he did made his cock pour all of its love into her. Their bodies were sweaty and heaving, but the two didn’t move. Jughead pulled out from her but Betty wouldn’t let him go. She kissed the shell of his ear before she whispered, “I’m not making the same mistake twice, Jughead. I’m not letting you go again.”

I saw it advertised in assorted DC Comics, as I had seen the ads for the previous issues, but I didn’t quite know what a “fanzine” was, so I never sent away for any of them. Until this point. This particular issue of THE AMAZING WORLD OF DC COMICS was said to contain “The SHOWCASE Story.” Knowing that the silver age Flash first appeared in SHOWCASE, and desperately wanting to read that first Barry Allen adventure, I convinced myself that this magazine must reprint that key story, and so I convinced my Mom to send away a dollar-and-a-half for a copy, which eventually turned up in the mail.

What I got wasn’t a comic at all, but a well-produced insider’s look at DC–one that I really wasn’t able to fully appreciate at the time. THE AMAZING WORLD OF DC COMICS was produced in-house by DC’s youngest staff members, the so-called “Woodchucks”, many of whom would go on to a place of prominence in the industry. The “SHOWCASE Story” was a lengthy article on the history of that since-discontinued magazine, and its place in comic book history. I was pretty fascinated by it, despite my disappointment at not getting to read that first FLASH tale.

There was also a lengthy article/interview with Sol Harrison and Jack Adler about their long association with the firm. Adler was the person in DC’s production department who had innovated the greytone process that had been used on a number of excellent covers in the 1950s and 1960s. The centerspread to the issue reprinted this one from GREEN LANTERN #8, the cover to a story that I had actually read a few months previous in DC SPECIAL.

There was also an extensive section previewing upcoming issues that had yet to be released, which fascinated me and made me lust after some of these comics–most of which would end up in my hands in the weeks ahead. This was preceded by an article about a group of fans in NY for the Super DC Convention visiting the offices while costumed as the Legion of Super Heroes.

Next came a short mystery story, which I loved, as it was all about a comic book writer. It’s actually one of the cruelest stories I’ve ever seen, and I completely understand why somebody at DC thought the better of it and pulled it from the regular books, running it only in this limited edition fanzine. The story is a bitter slam at the then-recently-deceased DC author Bill Finger–the co-creator of Batman and Green Lantern and writer of thousands of individual DC stories. Here, he’s cast as “Phil Binger”, a compulsive procrastinator whose best stories are the lies he tells his editors in order to get an advance on his paycheck. As a kid, without the context to understand what I was reading, I loved this tale, and the zany Ramona Fradon artwork really made it sing. But it’s a story that, once you understand what it was really about, is stomach-turning.

Next up was the latest in a series of articles concerning how a comic book was put together. This installment was about lettering and production, two subjects that really didn’t interest me all that much. Still, I learned a bunch from it–in fact, a while later I got my own Ames Guide for ruling lettering guidelines as a result, though I don’t think I ever actually used it for very much. My homemade comics at this point were still being drawn in ballpoint pen, so I couldn’t quite see the point in ruling a bunch of lines that I was just going to have to erase again anyway.

And the issue closes out with a two-page comedy filler by Jack Kirby originally intended for the second issue of the aborted IN THE DAYS OF THE MOB Magazine. There were a bunch of images in this little two-page short that I was enchanted by–I found Kirby’s comedy work more entrancing than his contemporary adventure stuff, an opinion that would change in the years to come. 

he told me to show him how much I loved him,” she said “so I clenched my jaw and fingered the hem of my panties as he watched with a smug grin.”

show me more.” he said “show me how much you can’t live without me,”  but I knew I could live without him. I knew I could go another day and the sound of his favorite song won’t linger in my heart longer than needed.

“I knew that I didn’t want him,” she paused “but I knew I needed him. I needed him because he made me feel alive.”

“show me more,”  he whispered.

the looming hint of satisfaction etching across his face

“show me.”

—  a. h. eun
I would like to take this time to thank you
For everything you have done for me.
You have bathed me in your intense
Yet false emotions
And dressed me in reassurances.
You have fed me your lies and provided me
With your lust to keep me warm through the night.
So thank you, for the sacrifices you’ve made
To show me how not to care for someone.
—  “The Perfect Example.” // k.d.
Was I heartbroken or furious? I didn’t know. I did know: that’s it. Our relationship could not continue like this, out of balance, unequal. And as surely as I knew this, I knew something else: But of course it can. We can continue to live exactly as we do right now, in a heavy-lidded state of love and unspeakable compromise. Isn’t that what people do? Every day? Don’t they ache but rename it tired? It made me wonder: Was it even fair to expect the person you’re with to be just as happy as you? Furthermore, how could you ever even know for sure? You couldn’t, was the truth of it. You could not know this.
—  Augusten Burroughs, Lust & Wonder

anonymous asked:

Hello, I'm that anon that gave you all that Filipino emotional dump earlier (thanks for helping me sort that out btw) and yes I would love some recommendations!!! Also, my appreciation for your existence (which was already very high) went up about one hundred million percent.

ahhhh thank you!! i just wanted to say that your message really meant so, so much to me.

and now: RECS. YES!!! pls take note that all of these recommendations are subject to my own biased preferences, so while i love them with all my heart, it may not be everybody’s cup of tea

NOVELS (these can easily be found at national bookstores!!)

SHORT STORIES/SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS (again can be found at national bookstores. probably. the hunt is worth it.) (pls buy local books)

POEM (im not as well read here so bear with me)

  • Aral Sa Heograpiya by Edgar Calabia Samar (i cant find it online so heres a sneaky pic from my fil textbook bc u just…gotta read this) (simple and heartbreaking portrayal of best friends/maybe more and growing apart)

POETRY COLLECTIONS

NON-FICTION

  • At Last, the Ocean by Alie Unson (i bought this chapbook just a few months ago and i had to stop after the first essay to just. breathe. for an hour. my god. if my heart was ripped out, her essays forcibly put my heart back in)

MORE LINKS OF NOTE

this looks like a lot but this is just baaaaarely the tip of the iceberg. it’s like. an icecube from the iceberg. im not as well read as i wish to be, but i will read and read and read til i am! i enthusiastically encourage all ph readers out there to give some of these a try and maybe venture even further!!! go to chapbook launches!! open mics!! find out what you like and what you dont like!!! buy and read classics and buy and read new stuff from up and coming writers!! 

the ph literature scene is, heh, lit, and exploring it is an utter joy. i hope you find some of these useful. happy reading, anon!!!

Little Purple Clouds.

And so, in the pouring rain, his body slowly turned to face her, exposing his bloodstained eyes..
“What is then? What does ‘Love’ mean to you?”
Her tears running races with the rain drops as they hit her face.. she paused, knowing her answer was simple.
“.. would you stand with me, intertwining our fingers in serene silence, knowing the entire world was burning down behind our backs? Would you come kiss me in a sea full of deadly creatures just because I ask for one more? Would you still fight for me on my worst days after I’ve already ripped your entire heart out and let me piece it back together? Because I would find a thousand daisies for you in a field of roses.. That’s what it means for me. I’ll love you until the world burns cold.”

C.B -I’ll write a book one day

ID #99090

Name: Mervyn
Age: 20
Country: The Netherlands

Hi, my name is Mervyn and I am currently living in the Netherlands as part of my Bachelors. I am looking to get to know more people outside of the city I currently live in now, and also outside of this country (but I don’t really mind). I am in love with big cities, so it made perfect sense that Amsterdam was just a 30 minutes train ride from where I live.

I love reading books (if I ever have the time) and learning new things, so I’m constantly lusting for knowledge! Apart from that, I also love making my room really cosy with fairy lights and photographs of awesome memories. Speaking of photographs, I also love taking photographs everywhere I go, so that is something my friends are not really happy about.

Also, I am from a small country in South East Asia called Brunei, although I am Chinese by ethnicity and Malaysian by nationality. I want to say that I escaped from my country, but I actually did not. I made the decision to study here so that I could get as far away from oppression. Let’s just say that it is not the best place to be born a gay man.

I can speak 4 different languages: English, Chinese, Malay, and some Dutch. I have a love for the Dutch culture as well as the food scene! Especially stroopwafels and kibbeling.

I also blog and often write an article for the newspaper back home discussing issues on education and basic rights which is pretty cool if my article gets published.

That’s pretty much it! Sorry for a very incoherent biography about me. ;)

Preferences: Preferably 18+ (Not too fussy about gender)

Love isn’t a fact

Errotic
AO3 Odd’s Drabbles
AO3 Whisper a Secret (Errotic-only-collection)

Love isn’t a fact. Love is a hunch at first, later it’s a series of decisions. A life time of decisions. That’s love.” – Carlos the Scientist, Welcome to Night Vale

Lust smiled where he lied, curled up next to Error. He had never before felt as peaceful as he had these last years, dating the skeleton above him. Music was playing on low volume in the background. He himself was reading a book, and Error was knitting. Both Lust and his brother had great collections of clothes made by Error’s strings. Most of them were too hot for them to wear, but they cherished them anyway.

“H-hEy, l-Lust?”

He turned his head to look at the other, and nodded. Error had an almost nervous look on his face. Lust tilted his head. Huh. Wonder what that was about? He didn’t ask, though. His boyfriend would tell him when he was ready.

“w_Wanna gO on A dATe?”

Lust’s smile grew wider and he pressed a kiss to the other’s teeth. He caressed his maxilla.

“sounds lovely, sweetheart.”

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