#hunger: a memoir of my body

[quotesfrommyreading]

What does it say about our culture that the desire for weight loss is considered a default feature of womanhood?

  —  Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (Roxane Gay)

#book quotes #roxane gay #hunger: a memoir of (my) body #feminism #misogyny #eating disorders #weight loss #weight

[quotesfromoursharedshelf]

"When I mark myself with ink, or when I have that done to me, I am taking some part of my skin back."

— Roxane Gay, "Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body"

#Roxane Gay #hunger: a memoir of (my) body #OSS #our shared shelf #quotes from our shared shelf

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Bisexual erasure. “When bisexuality is ignored, discriminated against, demonized, or rendered invisible by both the heterosexual world and the lesbian and gay communities. Often, the entire sexual orientation is branded as invalid, immoral, or irrelevant.”

what does it Look like?

- Assuming that two women together are lesbians, two men together are gay, or a man and a woman together are straight

- In most scientific studies, bisexuality is lumped in under “gay” or “lesbian” identities

- Many LGBTQ+ organizations don’t offer programming for bisexuals

- Questioning someone’s bisexuality if they haven’t had sex with both men and women.

what does it sound like?

- “I’m not interested in dating you because you’ve only dated men.” (Implying that I’m actually straight)

- “Bi women are more likely to leave you for a straight relationship.”

- “He’s only ever dated men, so he’s obviously gay.”

- “There’s no point in coming out as Bi if you never plan to leave your current relationship. You just want attention.”

what are the consequences?

- Bi erasure leads to bi phobia (discrimination, anger, blame, and hypersexualization).

- Bi people have *significantly* higher health risks than any other sexual identity group, including alarmingly high rates of depression and suicide.

- Bi women experience much higher rates of domestic violence.

- In the ‘80s and ‘90s bi people were blamed for spreading HIV. and we are still blamed for the spread of other STI’s.

what can I do?

- If you want to help, here’s what you can do:

- Check your own biases When someone says something shitty about bisexuality, correct them—even if a bisexual person isn’t present

- Ask your local LGBTQ+ orgs to offer bi/Pan programs

- Donate time or money to bi-specific organizations.

- Resources: Bisexual Resource Center (BiResource.org) Bi Plus Organizing US (@BiPlusOrgUS) Bi Pride UK (BiPrideUK.org) BiPhoria! (biphoria.org.uk) American Institute of Bisexuality (bisexuality.org) “Greedy: Notes from a Bisexual Who Wants Too Much” by Jen Winston “Look Both Ways: Bisexual Politics” by Jennifer Baumgardner “Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body” by Roxane Gay

#bi erasure #bisexual erasure #end biphobia #biphobia #biphobic gay people #biphobic #bisexuality #lgbtq community #lgbtq #bi #support bisexuality #pride #bi tumblr #bisexuality is valid #lgbtq pride #bi pride #bisexual #bisexual community #bi community #bi men #bi women #bisexual people #bi people #bisexual education #bisexual nation #queer nation #queer

[the-woman-upstairs]

Honestly, all my schadenfreude over the public evisceration of James Somerton by Hbomberguy and Todd in the Shadows is tempered by the anger I feel at how much damage, pain, misinformation, and marginalizing one man was capable of accomplishing through the platform he built through plagiarism, blatant lies, and outright bigotry.

And frankly it sucks that it took the efforts of two other popular YouTube creators to bring him down when Somerton was clearly never good at hiding any of his horrific behavior. There were clearly women and trans/non-binary people who knew something was up with him and his “work” but were either harassed/doxxed by the fans he set on them or knew they didn’t have the same kind of clout/support to be believed over him.

It just boggles my mind how EASY it would have been for him to cite these sources and work with other queer creators on the platform to help create a wealth of accessible, comprehensive knowledge of queer media and history available to a younger generation. Because clearly, there’s a hunger in the younger generations of queer kids/people for that knowledge, the understanding of the past, how it informs the present and creates the future. But all Somerton did was steal from other creators, ones who either didn’t know their work was stolen or were given the run-around by Somerton instead of proper accreditation.

Instead of uplifting other people and their research, he selfishly stole and hoarded it, before regurgitating it and claiming it was all his own while also infecting some excellent analysis with awful, bigoted opinions, particularly geared towards women, trans people, or any type of queer he didn’t believe was the “right kind.” You know, like all the “boring gays” that “survived” the AIDS crisis.

I want to believe that this time we’ll learn to not take people at face value, just because they give the appearance of professionalism and sound authoritative on whatever subject is covered. Because that’s how dangerous misinformation is spread and taken for fact. Todd was absolutely on the money when he pointed out how it is important to document all the lies and plagiarism with Somerton because how many young people believed what he was saying? How many people watched his videos on the adult film industry or “bad gays” or Nazis influence on body image and walked away thinking they were learning something about their history? Far too many, I’m sure.

Though at least having these two videos to refer to can help people learn when to spot someone who’s being disingenuous in “teaching people something.” And that any person who claims to be the “only person” talking about an issue is mostly likely lying and trying to sell you something. Usually, their own brand. It’s far better to diversify the people you follow and the voices you listen to, and the playlist Hbomberguy made available is a great place to start.

But I also recommend seeking out some of the original sources yourself. There’s typically queer history books/memoirs in the nonfiction section of your local library. You can find the original Celluloid Closet documentary on Tubi, along with another interesting one, Do I Sound Gay? Disclosure, the documentary on depictions of trans people in Hollywood, is available on Netflix. And that’s just a couple of the top of my head. If you’re looking for queer films in general, Wolfe Video has so many available for purchase or even just to peruse and rent the titles later.

I do hope some good comes out of all this, even if the damage done by Somerton still lingers in online queer spaces (fingers crossed this means the end of Illuminaughtii and Internet Historian as well). It helps to be wary of people seeking to take advantage of the online spaces we now inhabit, but there’s still people and places across the internet that are doing good work and want to help educate people. They may not always be easy to find and may even require some effort on the part of the audience, but the end result of really learning something, discovering interesting research/work, or being part of open minded discussions is a worthwhile reward. And always something to be proud of.

#ok this is a lot but i had to get all this off my chest #hbomberguy #james somerton #todd in the shadows #i really hope this news doesn’t discourage young people who were taken in by that asshole #he’s not the only queer person doing this work- there’s so many of us out there having discussions and sharing ideas #without being virulently misogynistic and transphobic and racist #i really hope people seek out the creators on that playlist and find someone new to follow who’s putting in the work

[beelmons]

love comes in moments.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Rating: Mature, 13+. Tags: Angst, no happy ending, Reid!POV, slow burn if you squint Word count: 6,772 Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid writes a memoir about the 15 years he spent by your side, and everything you went through since the moment you joined the BAU. A/N: I wanted to feel utter pain, so I wrote it. Hopefully you will suffer with me. Also, this hasn't been proof read, so things might change a bit during the week as I re-read it. This fic ended up having an aftermath with an slightly happier ending, you can read it here Heavily inspired by these two songs: 1 , 2 Tag list: @hey-dw @cassiemartzz

“Entry 1: The humble beginnings. 

I still remember the day you first came through the doors of the unit. Shoulders down, your stare facing the floor, walking slightly behind Gideon. You were nervous, at the least, but if your body spoke as loudly as I was guessing, terrified would have been a more accurate word. 

I couldn’t shake your hand, the germophobia wasn’t always nice to me, but you didn’t care. You understood. You faked a high-five, and just like that we had our own little inside joke. I had made a new friend within thirty seconds of meeting her; that was a first, but silly me, twenty-something and naïve, I couldn’t notice right away that a woman like you was meant to be many “firsts”, and even greater “onlys.”

“She’ll be your partner, be nice.” those were Hotch’s words. 

Not until much later would I have come to realize the weight of that warning. Trained eyes could reach everything I wasn’t able to. I wonder if you noticed the utter adoration that man had for you, as a subordinate, as a friend, as a companion. Aaron always had that eagle-like eye to spot people who needed him just as much as he needed them. Emily and Derek were a clear example, but that’s besides the point. 

Now, believe me when I say I’m sorry I didn’t notice how beautiful you were the second I laid my eyes on you. Perhaps, that would have saved us a lot of pain, or rather given us a lot more happiness. I was, to my ill luck, blinded by my adoration for someone else. I wouldn’t label it a mistake, it’s fair to say it was just an unfortunate event at the time, that would later come in doubles, and then in triples, like a series of them. 

Do you remember that book? ‘A series of unfortunate events’ by Lemony Snicket. It was the first thing you gave me as a birthday present, that and the ridiculous hat that haunts me to this day. Engraved in my mind I have the expression you made when I told you it was a children’s book. 

“No way! I’m giving a children’s book to a genius?!” the anguish in your voice was palpable, you were truly ashamed. 

“Well, this is not the illustrated version, so it’s technically not a children’s book. I love it, thank you.” I tried to reassure you, but I wasn’t very good at that.

Maybe, you just wanted your partner to like you, to show me you were trying, or to prove that you could know me as much as the others in such little time, but regardless of the reason you felt like you’d failed. I could see it, and I regret not letting you know just how precious that possession would turn out to be. 

Months later, we would also come to know that you couldn’t stand for that long without moving, otherwise your legs would feel swollen for days. Six hours you spent with me at the shooting range, even after Hotch had given up. They had to kick us out, and out of hunger we found that indian restaurant that’s open 24/7. I refuse to believe I still failed that certification, you were one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, but I’ll always be thankful for every missed shot, since that night I found the wonder that butter chicken was. My first time having indian food. 

Interestingly enough, we didn’t go back to that place on our own, jobs, people, life always getting in the way. Now I understand, then, it was no wonder the chicken never tasted the same.  

Entry 2: Trial, one of many. 

I still wonder how you always managed to show up, regardless of the way I constantly seemed to juggle with my own life. The first time I died, courtesy of Tobias Hankle’s dad, I wondered if my mom was going to be okay. Funny, huh? Even in death I found it hard to put my life first. I know that always pissed you off, and I never knew better, and I’m sorry to tell you I’ve kept the bad habit, I’m afraid. 

Peaceful doesn’t quite describe the way it felt, my last breath I mean. Relieved, I guess, would fit better. I had told you before, hadn’t I? The hospital she was in, the books she liked best, the letters I wrote everyday. It was a hopeful relief, I craved that you would have come to care for me enough to look after my mother if I were to be gone. 

Luckily, you didn’t get the chance to prove it, but many years later I would understand that, back then and there, you would have moved heaven and earth for me; and I should have known by the way your arms found me amidst the dark of that cemetery. I should have known by the way you stayed in my messy apartment throughout the night, by the way you held my arm when I woke up shaking in terror, and by the way you repeated that same routine every evening for almost a week. 

Should have known after you dropped everything to meet me at Gideon’s cabin as I cried over his gun and badge, as I mourned someone that I hadn’t lost, as I yet again felt insufficient to remain, to make him stay. I’m still not sure why I called you. Perhaps you would share the burden of losing a mentor, or maybe you would notice that I was breaking down, that I was too weak to fix myself, and even weaker to ask for help. No one reached out for me because I never screamed, no one knew how bad I needed it. And yet, with a simple whisper miles away, you came. You showed up. 

I should have known right when you were sitting by the toilet bowl, your hair tie loosely holding my hair together so it wouldn’t get dirty. Did I think I looked good with that? Why did I ever leave it that long? Stop, I can’t also be rambling while I write, not that you ever minded the infinite data of nothingness, did you? Circling back, I still feel the coldness of your fingers, pale with concern, as they curled around my trembling wrist while I threw up my guts and soul in that white container. 

“You should go.” I would whisper in between gargles and spits. 

“And leave you like this?” you weren’t even looking at me. I guess the image of my body bent over a basin, sickly and frail, was enough to be engraved in your mind with one glance. 

“I’m just one of the 21 million americans that struggle with at least one addiction. I’m nothing special.” I grumbled with disdain “And you don’t have a magic wand you can wave and make it go away. You’re nothing special.” 

You sighed at my words, by then you knew how stubborn I could be, am I correct? It didn’t take a profiler to figure out something like that. “Only 10% seek help, though. Those odds make you special enough, don’t you think?” If you said anything else, I cannot remember. I could only focus on the fast speed of my beating heart, that I mistook for undesired side-effects of the drugs. 

Withdrawal can be hell, but I had already had a taste of that, so I figured I could handle a bit more of it. You, on the other hand, were not ready for the burden that was I. I could see the facade you put on whenever I said something so hurtful anyone else would have gone out running, the subtle swallowing of the knots in your throat, the deep, shaky breaths, the way your eyelids clung to the tears that threatened to come out. Yes, I should have known right then and there, after you met the worst of me, and yet stayed. 

Entry 3: Did I care to share? 

To be fair, you were a bit to blame for my obliviousness. A pure heart is a mystery for men who don’t know kindness, and life hadn’t been particularly tender to me. I had begun to question if, maybe, the lifeline that had become your gentle hand meant something else. But more often than not, I had learned that love follows after life, and if it had been gentle enough to give you to me, who was I, a mere mortal, to want more, to show greed. 

You were there for Elle and her revolting, for Morgan and his search for his truth, for Garcia and her desire to cling to life after her very own kindness had almost taken it from her, and for Hotch and his falling into the darkest of despairs. You would tell me how you had to cancel plans to make him company, how you woke up extra early to make sure he’d have breakfast, how you’d pretend to be walking by his new bachelor apartment as an excuse to check up on him, and spend extra hours just so you could get him to talk in his office.I watched you worry and give your best to put a smile on a saddened face. Just like you had done for me, and the many people that we both loved. It hurt, it selfishly hurt. Your love was so vast it could fill a dam and still pour, yet my thirst could barely be quenched. 

My skin still burns with the memory of your tears falling on my hand when I told you my cravings had started again. I saw the glint of failure in your eyes, like I had years ago with the children's book. It made me question if eidetic memory could translate to the sense of touch, to this day it is vivid, like they cover me again whenever I feel the urge, whenever I need to escape. 

Once again, you showed up. You showed up at my apartment to pick me up, like a toddler waiting to be taken to the doctors, only that the person that would fix me was not a medic, it was a sponsor. I don’t think I’d have been brave enough to show up by myself, to get help on my own, if I hadn’t been so scared to hurt you again, probably bad enough to finally push you away. 

It was okay, even if you were to be shared, if your heart had space for everyone else, I was happy to know I could belong as well, to be included. I was okay sharing you, as long as I got a piece. 

Entry 4: The dreaded distance. 

I never understood politics, or the system. Ironic, though, since human behavior is nothing but a mixture of different structures interacting together, creating a being that then I would dedicate my entire life to studying. But it was always so confusing, why would they rip you away from me? Didn’t they see how good you were? Perhaps that was the issue.

I still remember the way you clung to my chest when we were saying goodbye. Did the DEA really need you? Did it really have to be you? It wouldn’t be the only time the bureau would plot against me, against the hope I grasped on to continue doing my job, but it certainly was the hardest one, and mind you, the first one. The pain of having a friend ripped from my arms, a handful of things could only compare. 

Hotch would later come to confess that my hatred for the superiors was unfunded. You were not taken, you were a tribute. When Strauss came in arms, you had to surrender to protect me. They made Aaron choose between me and you, one had to leave, it wasn’t up for discussion, and you volunteered. Because you knew, I could barely make it anywhere else. 

“It’s been a while since I was hugged like this.” you said when we were strong enough to finally pull apart, when the clock was streaking 6, and there was no professional excuse to keep you in the building for longer. 

“Like what?” I had to ask. You deserved to be engulfed in arms every waking second. You deserved to be carried by the holiest of angels. Why wouldn’t I hug you like we were in a Shakespearean tragedy? 

“Like somebody was afraid of losing me.” you answered. 

Oh, my love, was I terrified.

Maybe I am dramatic. You weren’t dead, you weren’t gone, just in a different building, in the same city. I knew where you lived, where you bought your coffee, and your favorite place to dine in. Yet, you felt so far away, so out of reach I could barely handle it. I missed you, so dearly, so madly. 

Weekly escapades to the geekiest of places, a lousy street diner I was too scared to eat at, and that I would just because of you, the faking of high-fives whenever I got an idea, my favorite inside joke, the laughter in the bullpen at my unintentioned comments, the looking over my shoulder to see if you were still there, the joy in my chest whenever you entered the room, the love I didn’t know was love. All gone, away from me. 

Your midnight calls were balm to an open wound. Calming at the stake of some pain. And I knew, one of the very few things I knew, that you weren’t doing good in that place, that your pain was greater than you would express, but your body wouldn’t lie to me, it could never lie to me, the sighs between sentences, the strain in your voice, the tiredness in your breath. But I wasn’t like you, I couldn’t just show up, I didn’t know how. I didn’t know I helped. I didn’t know I was to you what you were to me. A beacon of light, of hope.  

I wondered what was hurting you. Was I not nice enough for you to tell me what, or who, was causing that to you? “Be nice” Hotch had said. Was he nicer? You always went to him for things like these, the matters of the heart. I had to hear from Garcia, months later, about that mysterious fellow agent that was making you cry, and I realized in that moment that I had never known rage. The pure, raw need to tear someone limb by limb. How dare he toy with a soul as giving as yours? Like using the crown jewel as a skipping stone. 

Fortunately, I was not the only one that wanted to protect you. Not the only one that cared enough. A visit from Morgan, a call from Hotch, and the rat was gone, for good, and you were back in the unit, for better. 

Entry 5: When I knew without knowing. 

You’d changed, I could see, and I’d heard heartbreak does that to a person. Yet your smile always seemed to shine bright. It shone for our boss, swallowed in deep grief, it shone for JJ as she was, to no one’s surprise, cruelly taken from us, it shone for Prentiss and her struggles, the ones that were there even when she wouldn’t confess to them. 

Do you remember the flame of my tears on your shoulder when I heard she was dead? I could barely stay home. The walls seemed to crush me if I was alone. I hopped from your house, to JJ’s, to the office, to yours yet again. Your arms were my solace, my God given solace. Whenever I turned, you were there. 

I don’t know what was harder to deal with: her death or her return to life. How did you manage to not take a side? You felt the same pain I did. You cried the same tears I shed. I wondered if you were always stronger than me. Stupid question, the answer was yes. 

“I’m just saying, Spencer.” you twirled around in my kitchen as you spoke, impatient since I was taking a long time to get ready, and there was an appointment to get to.

“Well, okay, then stop saying!” I was shoving a couple of books and other belongings, I can’t even remember what, as I subtly yelled at you. 

Time and again, the stupid book would slip out whenever I tried to close my bag. It was frustrating, infuriating. Kind as you were, you kneeled with me, your hand brushed mine, and a mere graze was enough to slow me down. I looked at you. Did you see pain? I know you did. You always did. My body couldn’t lie to you. 

“I feel it too.” you began to talk “The guilt. The wishing that she was still gone so you wouldn’t have to go through the excruciating pain of betrayal.” bullseye, as per usual. I started to cry; you always made me comfortable enough to break down without care. “If you truly don’t wish to make up with them, the girls, I’ll be on your side. You have the right to feel hurt. If you tell me, right now, hand to heart, that you want to skip Rossi’s dinner and go catch that ridiculous black and white movie, I’ll get up and walk beside you, like I’ve done countless times, and I will also be there, when you are filled with regret, and the words can’t leave your mouth to ask for their forgiveness for your attitude.”

Dragged by your hand, we showed up, and I felt it, the memory of a feeling long not emoted, the warmth of family. You were right, you were always right. I walked you to your place that night, stumbling a little from the wine, laughing about something Garcia and Morgan had said. We stood by your doorway, and you stopped. You looked at me, so deeply, so filled with pride. How could I be so stupid? I should have kissed you at that moment. I should have hugged you in a way you hadn’t before, in a way that told you that in this and many other lives, I needed you with me. I needed you to be mine. 

Entry 6: The start of my demise. 

I still wonder how you did it. How did you stand beside me with a straight face while you broke on the inside? Watching me slowly fall for someone else to a point of no return, a point of devotion you had long earned. 

You knew about Maeve before anyone else. I didn’t have to tell you, my smile gave me away, since you knew it better than anyone, you were the one that put it back there more than once. You supported my every move, my every whim, my every idea to please her, to make her love me. And she loved me, and I loved her, there’s no point in hiding it. 

How did you do it? Seriously, how did you advise me to court her and hear me rant about her  like she was the latest scientific breakthrough? How did you wear a straight face as mine lit up at the thought of her name? How did you pour your heart out to help me find her? All while wearing that damned smile, the cursed reason for my existence. How did you not fall in shambles as you watched me love her? I would have, without question.

So, I beg of you to tell me. How could you possibly love me while I loved someone else? 

It’s like a riddle whose answer is before me, but I can’t see it, I can’t find it. To this day it amazes me, the way that you remained outside my door throughout the night. Did you think I didn’t know you were there? The way you took care of my food and services. Did you know I couldn’t bring myself to even check my bank account? The way you saw through me when I came back to work. You knew I wasn’t okay, regardless of my attempts to prove so. 

You remained for months by my side, showing up at my door when the night got too cold, holding my head on your lap as I sobbed, as I, once again, mourned. You stood there with me trying to fix something someone else had broken, something you didn’t even know if you could glue back together. 

“If I believed in religion, at least I could cling to the hope of meeting her again.” I muttered, and you laughed a bit. 

“Perhaps in another universe, if you’re lucky enough.” smart of you to talk to me in terms I could understand.

“It doesn’t feel like it will ever end, you know? The grief.” I confessed to you as your fingers threaded on my locks, body too tired to hold up straight from crying, so my head laid on your thigh. 

“It will.” you reassured “Maybe not soon, but it will.” 

“Maybe.” I could only agree “but I can’t count on you to soothe my pain forever.” I only looked up because your fingers stopped moving, but I’m glad I did, I’m glad I caught your eyes, filled with endless determination, as you spoke. 

“Says who?” did you mean it? Forever? 

Entry 7: All that’s well… 

After JJ’s abduction, something drastically changed. Not just the two of us, but the entire team. Our secrets were no longer innocent and blameless, they were dangerous, harmful. They could tear us apart if not properly shared. They could push us away if we didn’t say them outright. 

My love for you was my deepest rooted secret, pushed so far into the drawer I had forgotten about it myself, too scared to pull it out, afraid I’d just have to push it back in without giving it a chance to show off. 

No more secrets. That’s the pact we all agreed on. I kept thinking about that as you walked with me. You knew it had hit me hard to see JJ so weak and hurt, reduced to bruises and agony; you also knew I would find a way to blame myself if I were to be left alone in that room, so you decided to make me some company. We dined in silence, utter absence of sound that did not, at any moment, feel odd. You walked with me, not next to me, with me. And you waited by the door for my invitation to enter. I could just stare at you, so beautifully patient, so wonderfully loving. So easy to love. 

“No more secrets.” I told you, my eyes unable to leave your face. 

“Yes, Spence. No more secrets.” you answered with that blissful smile of yours. You caught up rather quick that I was hiding something. I could never fool you, not you. “Is there something else you need to tell me?” you questioned me, and I could see the look in your eyes trying to subtly profile me. 

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Over 7,000 languages are spoken in this world, and there were still not enough words to describe what I felt for you. I didn’t talk. My lips just found their way to yours, so naturally, so right. 

“This is a mistake.” you muttered. You were still unsure, you would tell me later, that life could be so kind to you, to have me love you. How silly of you, darling, to even dare to think I could not. 

Our bodies didn’t lie, they couldn’t lie to each other. Your tongue gave you away, it spoke of truce but tasted of war. Your hands explored all of my body, they felt my every vein, and tasted the pulse of a heart that beat for you. Your mouth spilled honey-like sounds as I greedily took every part of you for my pleasure. As I embedded your scent in my brain, to the record of things I loved about you. I had never made love. Sex, once or twice, but never love. I remember watching you sleep, your warm cheek on my bare chest; your hands, even unconsciously, clinging to my torso as if I were to slip away like a dream. But you felt so real, oh honey, you were so real. You were so mine. And I couldn’t remember the last time I was held so close I could touch love. 

I can still hear Hotch’s sermon. No more secrets, that’s what we pacted, and you were big on promises, but to be fair, so was I. An hour, I recall, we were shoved inside that office. Hands together, faces down, like children caught in the act. 

“Fraternization is dangerous,” it was his third time saying that “and if this were to come out, I would have to transfer one of you.” we didn’t care, and he could tell. He sighed, in defeat. “Just tell me one thing.” he changed directions “Are you happy?” 

He was asking you, yet pretended the question was for both. You didn’t entertain him with an answer. He already knew. He knew in the way you reached for my hand, in the way I held back a smile. He nodded. Did he approve? I don’t think we’ll ever know, but he protected us, he always protected us. 

That day, we drank and danced all together, as if our love was a reason for celebration. Apparently, it wasn’t a secret to anyone but us. Long ago they figured we’d end up together, even got some complaints for having been later rather than sooner. 

Life was good and kind with you by my side, filled with laughter, adventure, and pleasure. The darkest nights still glimmered with your presence, like a blindfold being lifted to reveal the cold truth; all it took for life to be kind was me loving you, and you loving me. 

Entry 8: Alone we stand 

When did I stop making sense? Curiously enough, that’s the one moment I can’t pinpoint. I broke a promise, and the downfall caught up. 

“Were you even going to tell me?!” you paced around my apartment in rage. 

“Come on, you know I was” I had gotten defensive, regardless of my wrongdoing. 

“When, exactly? After you had fixed it? ‘Cause you have to fix everything alone?” you snarked at me. 

“I don’t want to sound rude, but it’s a private matter.” worst phrasing I could have chosen, to be honest. 

“I’m your girlfriend, Spence. I think I have proven for quite a while now that I’m here for the bad and the worst. Instead, I have to find out your mother has Alzheimer’s through a hitman. You told a hitman before you told me!” I see now, that your anger was not unfounded. 

“She had a gun to my crotch! What did you want me to do!?” I tried to argue. 

“Oh, okay, so that’s what it takes to get you to open up?” 

No, you didn’t hold a gun to my crotch. You did way worse, you forgave me, and we moved on. But it was never the same, oh no, I could feel it, we both could feel it. How conversations seemed to require more energy, how the touches were more scripted than impulsive, how after a few hours you realized that you hadn’t thought about me in a little while. 

I tried to fix it. It’s what I always do. Perhaps if I could get us both in the same place, it would happen again, the spark that we had lost. I asked you to move in with me, and you agreed. We were happy again, not simply because of the fact, but because it was a great reminder for both of us, that the future was together, it had always been together. 

But alas, life isn’t kind enough. We had agreed to find a new place, somewhere we could turn ‘ours’ without getting rid of the ‘mine’. It was taking time, of course, since we wanted it to be perfect. And little did we know that time was the only thing in this world we didn’t have. 

The news of Hotch’s departure hurt us all in a way we never truly recovered from, but for you, for the never-ending-loving you, it left a wound I couldn’t close. I saw the always dreaded glint of loneliness in your eye, the same one I carried when Gideon left. I saw the breaking of a soul that had lost a mentor, a protector, you lost the ground you walked onto and never learned how to fly. 

We didn’t make it. I don’t think it was your fault, or mine, for that matter, life just happened so fast, so merciless. I loved you, that never stopped, and you loved me, I know that much. All I could do was hold on to the hope that I had made the right decision, the decision to push you away, to save you from the torture that our life would be. I would do anything for my mother, even if that meant standing back on my own, without you. 

I’m sorry, my love, that it took me so long to understand. That the strength you were lending me was not for me to judge, but to carry, to use as a tool to build what we dreamed of . I didn’t learn about it until JJ visited one day, when I was mourning the love that we had, that she told me what happened the day she showed up at your apartment, knees on the ground, to beg you to continue loving me. 

“It wasn’t my decision, Jennifer.” you said, barely allowing yourself to glance at her. 

“He’s just doing this because he thinks he’s protecting you, you know that.” she tried to argue on my behalf. 

“JJ, you are his best friend, if you’re asking me to convince him to change his mind, you know it would be easier to get Garcia to play soccer.” you were right, by the way. JJ was about to give up. 

“He needs you.” she kept trying. 

“No, he doesn’t.” you answered “He needs someone to be there for him, at his constant back and call, to dedicate their very being to his happiness, to pour out the entirety of themselves onto him, and I can’t be that person. I can’t.” 

“But why not!?” to her, it also didn’t make much sense. You always were, what was different this time? 

“Because I’m not whole.” you finally admitted. 

She had to hear you cry for hours at how lost you felt. I didn’t understand I’d become a part of you, and by taking me away, I was ripping a portion of who you were. With Hotch gone, there was no way you could fix yourself, not fast enough, at least. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t know. 

You stayed for the man that more than once had your back. You stayed to catch Mr. Scratch. I was no longer the hope you held on to, I was no longer the one you chased after, Aaron was your last hope, your last piece to make sense of whatever you felt like was happening around you. The person who would return to you the will to love something that wasn’t me. 

But he wasn’t there, and you were lost. 

Entry 9: Together we fall apart. 

I can’t blame you for leaving, you had no reason to stay, the job had long ago stopped making sense, it was the people that you loved what made you stick around, and now we were gone, in more than one sense. And believe when I say I missed you, with every pore of my heart, even if I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to at least know how you were doing. 

I did wonder, though, if having you around would have made a difference. If you could have seen something all of us missed, if you had protected me better, if you could had helped me when I didn’t know how to help myself. 

Cat Adams would ruin me in more than one way, sure, but regarding us, I’m sure now I’m the only one to blame. A series of unfortunate events by Spencer Reid.

“We told her you were in prison.” Emily said as she sat across the booth, with a crystal screen separating the both of us. There was no need to say your name. They all knew you were all I ever thought about. “She’s asking to be put on the list.” 

“Emily!” I yelled out of reflex .

“I’m sorry, Spence, but she’s really worried, and maybe she could help.” 

“My answer is no.” I watched her sigh as I said those words. 

“Can I at least tell her you’re thinking about it?” she still tried to convince me, for your sake. “And, will you think about it?” I nodded. 

I promise I thought it through, hard and well. It’s not that I didn’t want to see you, I didn’t want you to see me. I knew, I knew you would try to fix it, and I couldn’t do that to you, not again. Regardless, you still tried. You made sure my mother was safe and well, you made her company, it wasn’t your fault, I don’t hold it against you, they outsmarted us all. And I’m sorry, again, that after I was freed I still couldn’t bring myself to face you. 

Many things happened in the following years. I wish I could have seen you one more time just to tell you all about it. A coffee by my apartment window, a nap on that comfy living room couch, a laugh by the bullpen. The things I’d have done to have one more moment with you. 

The second time I died, it was way less scary. Guess I had some practice. If I told you who I saw, you wouldn’t have believed me, but it was the message that counted. I wasn’t ready to go, and I wasn’t ready to leave you. If I were to stay, I was going to fight to at least see you one more time, to hear your laugh once again.

My mom did tell me that I should be careful what I wish for, and when I woke up in that hospital room, after a horrible stroke nonetheless, I understood why. 

“Please don’t be mad at me.” Penelope remained for a second by my bed after my mom had left to get some water. 

My eyebrows furrowed the slightest, I couldn’t move that much. “What did you do?” 

“I didn’t know if you were going to make it, and I didn’t think much before I hit the call.” she continued to explain. 

Again, I could only tilt my head in confusion, something about having brain failure had made me the tiniest bit slower. The fog cleared very quickly, though, once I saw you walk through the door. You were as beautiful as the day I met you, only now I could see, and I would never cease to see. You walked to the bed and your hand reached out for mine, like it was supposed to be. 

“Hey, you.” you said softly. 

“Hey,” I muttered. If I had been able to breathe better, believe me I would have yelled out like an excited 5 year old “what are you doing here?” 

“I recently realized I’ve grown into the habit of showing up after you almost died.” you joked, and it was like time hadn’t passed at all “which, if you ask me, it’s a weird habit to have.” it was my turn to laugh, you always caused that in me. 

Penelope had stepped out, she knew we needed the space, as for our souls could only be bare if it was just the two of us. You came closer, and our eyes met, and time actually stopped, and everything was okay. 

“I will always love you.” I’m sorry I said it like that, I know it’s not what you expected. 

“Spencer…” you began to talk. 

“No, just,” I cut you off “I know I can get it right this time.” the way that you looked at me I will never forget, a look you had never given me, that you respected me too much to give me, the look of pity. 

“I’m not a second chances program” you started “I couldn’t just wait around until you were ready to notice that I was still there, that you allowed me back in.” 

Your tears threatened to fall. I could see them, that’s not what I wanted, that’s never what I wanted. I reached for your face, and you leaned against my hand. Old habits die hard, don’t they? I should know, since I had fallen into the habit of wanting you, of loving you. This and every other life. I couldn’t hold them any longer, the sobs, the tears, the pain, the pain only you could heal, only you could let me show. I love you because of your strength, since it allowed me to be weak without remorse. 

You did the same for me, your gentle fingers caressing my cheek, pushing away the salty droplets. “It’s okay, Spencer, it’s okay.” you whispered “we have to let us go.” 

“And if we’re lucky enough?” I asked. 

“If we’re lucky enough,” your face smiled, but the strain in your voice showed me the misery in your words, along with their genuinity “in another universe, you would have been with Maeve and I would have never loved you. And we could finally be happy.” 

You couldn’t have been more wrong to think, even for a second, that my destiny was any other than you. I didn’t have the words to prove it, I could form a sentence to save my life, save the love of my life. I tried to kiss you. I wish you had done it, you would have understood. 

“My boyfriend is waiting outside.” you muttered before my lips could meet home, and like that, you were gone. 

Entry 10: I think I’ll be alright. 

I never saw you again, but it’s okay. Years to come I would question every decision I had made, did they lead me to you, or just pushed you away? There was no way of telling. Regrets are a broken sword, dull enough to be harmless, and sharp enough to hurt. Would you have done something differently? I doubt so. 

I’m thankful, nonetheless, to have been given the opportunity to concur. To have been loved by you. I did wish for a different ending, but who am I to be selfish? I had it all, even if I lost it. Until years later I would hear about your marriage; you eloped, as we always thought we would do, planning a wedding was too much of a hassle. Did you end up having kids? If you did, lucky them, if something they were to never lack, it would be love. I hope he is treating you well, that you are happy, like you always deserved. 

Me? I finally had to learn. The grief finally went away, you see, someone once told me that love comes in moments, and later in life I found myself clinging to that thought. If love comes in moments, my darling, after everything we've been through, yours will last me a million years. 

Even if I got just a fraction of it.” 

The silence was covered by the rustling of book pages as the woman finished speaking. Yet her crowd of one didn’t seem to show much reaction, which was a source of concern. 

"Spencer, would you like me to read it again?" Penelope asked as she swayed back and forth on the rocking chair the staff had given to her. 

"Sorry?" he asked, seemingly lost in thought.

"Ma'am." a gentle nurse interrupted them "visitation time is over, Dr. Reid has to rest."

"Of course." the once blonde woman, whose hair now shone silver, said as she handed the diary back to his owner "Here, take this."

"Is this mine?" a still confused Spencer continued to question.

"Yes, it's your favorite book." she reiterated.

"Really?" his fingers fidgeted with the cover "What is it about?"

Penelope couldn't help the way her eyes filled with water, like they did every week whenever she had to leave the friend she'd visit in that mental facility without fail.

"The greatest love story ever told."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid #fic: spencer #fics: spencer #fic: mine #fic: criminal minds

[notjosieyouremy]

every edsheeran book ive ever read and what i thought

*reblog without tags please

update #1: i just finished reading Letting An@ Go by anonymous. the teenage drama and romance is gross and annoying. the protagonist has a lot of strong opinions about peoples weight, especially her mother’s, which is very triggering. plenty of m3an $pO if that’s your thing. rampant fatphobia. i give it 3 out of 5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️

5 star tier ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• hunger: a memoir of (my) body by roxane gay. one of the best edsheeran books ive read. it’s about sa, food addiction, boolimia, feminism, fatphobia, the struggles of just trying to exist black woman in a large body. would recommend

• i’m glad my mom died by jennette mccurdy. it’s so good. i think i finished it in a day. it’s about a lot more than edsheeran. highly recommend. go read it right now

• unbearable lightness: a story of loss and gain by portia de rossi. a gay actor’s struggles with edsheeran. one of the few i’ve read more than once. would recommend

• wasted: a memoir of an0rex!a and boolimia by marya hornbacher. really deserves to be in a class of its own. it’s the best written edsheeran book out there. it’s sad, hilarious, intelligent, perfectly captures the internal voice of mania. highly tr!ggering, so proceed with caution. after wasted was published she relapsed, which she speaks about in madness: a bipolar life. it’s also a very good book but edsheeran is not the focus

4 star tier ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• insatiable: a young mother’s struggle with an0rexia by erica rivera. if you wanna read about someone who takes fistfuls of bisacodyl and exercises intensely, you might like this book. it’s very good. would recommend

• dying to be th!n by nikki grahame. imagine being so severely malnourished as a child that you never go through puberty. thats how serious her illness was. she basically grew up in treatment facilities, managed to recover against all odds, went on big brother (the reality show), published a book, relapsed, and tragically passed away in 2021. the covid lockdowns were hard on her mental health. would recommend

• the girls at 17 swann street by yara zgheib. semi-autobiographical work of fiction. what sets this one apart is the protagonist isn’t a teenage girl. she’s, like, 28 i think? something like that. would definitely recommend if you get tired of reading about teens and preteens all the time

• elena vanishing by elena dunkle. at a certain point, all these books can be summarized in one sentence: she had to choose between recovery or death. it’s a very good memoir. would recommend

• born round: the secret history of a full-time eater by frank bruni. we love to see male representation in the edsheeran community. he was a chubby kid, turned to unhealthy means to achieve we!ght loss, eventually learns to heal his relationship with food and becomes restaurant critic for the new york times (ever heard of it?). would recommend

• sure, i’ll join your cult: a memoir of mental illness and the quest to belong anywhere by maria bamford. if you don’t know who maria bamford is, she’s one of the best stand up comics, period. that’s not even my opinion, it’s just an agreed upon fact within the stand up community. she’s brilliant. the book is about her mental illnesses and all the different self help groups she joins (so many!). she does go into her struggle with exercise boolimia, though that’s not the primary subject. it gets 5 stars as a book, but 4 stars as an edsheeran book because there just isn’t a lot of dis0rder talk

3 star and below ⭐️⭐️⭐️

• stick figure: a diary of my former self by lori gottlieb. good but i had trouble relating to the protagonist because was quite young and immature

• the art of st4rving by sam j. miller. some much needed male representation in edsheeran literature. and some lgbtq representation. it’s YA (young adult) fiction, not really my taste. would recommend for those who like YA. great cover art!

• wintergirls by laurie halse anderson. a lot of people love this book. i thought it was ok. it’s a work of fiction by an author who isn’t really part of the edsheeran or recovery community. it’s another YA book. i will always prefer memoirs and non-fiction

• fat chance by lesléa newman. this was the first edsheeran book i read. it was assigned reading for my high school health class. it’s a YA novel about a 13 year old girl who wants to lose we!ght. she re$tricts, she b;nges, she poorges, she becomes boolimic. i can trace my edsheeran back to this book. i started d;eting, b;ngeing, and abusing lax4tives as a direct result of reading this material. it did the exact opposite of its purpose, trying to steer young people away from toxic d!et culture. my take away was, i’m overweight, therefore i should be willing to do anything to get th!nner. it’s not very good tbh. maybe if you like YA you’d like it but otherwise, would not recommend

#notjosie reads

[qbdatabase]

Hi, could you please recommend me bisexual memoirs? I have already read Boyslut btw. Thank you!

Memoirs by Bisexual Female Authors

A Cup of Water Under My Bed: A Memoir by Hernández, Daisy

Bad Feminist by Gay, Roxane

Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Gay, Roxane

Death Threat by Shraya, Vivek

Tomboyland: Essays by Faliveno, Melissa

Unbecoming: A Memoir of Disobedience by Bhagwati, Anuradha

A History of Scars: A Memoir by Lee, Laura

Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me by Forney, Ellen

A Song for You: My Life with Whitney Houston by Crawford, Robyn

Yours Cruelly, Elvira: Memoirs of the Mistress of the Dark by Peterson, Cassandra

Believe: Boxing, Olympics and My Life Outside the Ring by Adams, Nicola

Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations by Jacob, Mira

Girlhood: Essays by Febos, Melissa

Wow, No Thank You. by Irby, Samantha (she has several other books I haven't yet had time to add to the database, but they are on the list to be added!)

Manifesto: On Never Giving Up by Evaristo, Bernardine

Memoirs by Bisexual Male Authors

Sorted: Growing Up, Coming Out, and Finding My Place by Bird, Jackson

Baggage: Tales from a Fully Packed Life by Cumming, Alan

Trans Mission: My Quest to a Beard by Bertie, Alex (he's pansexual, not bi, but there's so few mga male memoirs here that I wanted to include it, esp bc I have personally read and do rec this one!)

Bisexual Men Exist: A Handbook for Bisexual, Pansexual and M-spec Men by Mehta, Vaneet (not a memoir, but he does discuss a lot of his personal life and experiences)

Memoirs by Bisexual Nonbinary Authors

Fairest: A Memoir by Talusan, Meredith

(if anyone knows of others, please let me know!!)

full notes on representation and publishing info at qbdatabase.com

#bisexual #bisexual rep #bi books #lgbtqia #queer books #ask #anon #answered

[shushuttath]

roxanne gay ‘hunger: a memoir of my body’ / greta gerwig life advice, for i-d magazine / taylor’s swift ‘seven’ / stand by me (1986) dir. rob reiner

#lyrics #taylor swift #folklore #folklorevermore #greta gerwig #barbie #lady bird #little woman 2019 #roxanne gay #memoir #stand by me #river phoenix #film

[ignitification]

“SHIGARAKI TOMURA” - And What Is Grief, If Not Love That Has Survived And What Am I, If Not a Museum.

Fernando Pessoa, from The Book of Disquiet / Alex Dimitrov, from Together And By Ourselves; “Perfect Day” / Clarice Lispector, “A Breath of Life” / Margaret Atwood, from Selected Poems: 1965-1975 / Catherynne Valente, from The Orphan’s Tales: In The Night Garden / Vladimir Mayakovsky, “A Cloud in Trousers” / Benjamin Moser, from Why This World: A Biography of Clarice Linspector; “The Missing Name” / Sanna Wani, “Emergence: Two Poems” / Emily Dickinson, “A Not Admitting Of The Wound (1188)” / Jeanette Winterson, “Why Be Happy When You Can Be Normal?” / Fortesa Latifi, “The Truth About Grief” / Roxane Gay, from Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body.

#web weave #web weaving #bnha web weaving #compilation #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #shigaraki tomura #bnha spoilers #i’ve done this so long ago and this has been sitting here so #ENJOY

[quotesfrommyreading]

I often tell my students that fiction is about desire in one way or another. The older I get, the more I understand that life is generally the pursuit of desires. We want and want and oh how we want. We hunger.

  —  Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (Roxane Gay)

#book quotes #roxane gay #hunger: a memoir of (my) body #fiction #writing #authors #psychology

[ombre-ame]

“I buried the girl I had been because she ran into all kinds of trouble. I tried to erase every memory of her, but she is still there, somewhere. She is still small and scared and ashamed, and perhaps I am writing my way back to her, trying to tell her everything she needs to hear.”

Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body, by Roxane Gay

@ombre-ame

Feb 9/24

[snoopysfriendwoodstock]

summer reading list recommendations? pls?

hi! i’m gonna share 2 lists. books i’ve read and would recommend and books that i am planning to read this summer if u would like to come along for that journey!

books i recommend

raw dog by jamie loftus (nonfiction)

motherthing by ainslie hogarth (horror)

the other black girl by zakiya dalila harris (thriller)

ANYTHING by gillian flynn but sharp objects is the most summery to me (tw sa & self harm for that one)

ANYTHING by megan abbott but if you’re looking for fun, my rec is always dare me. if you’re looking for something sweltering and suffocating and horrible that feels like july heat, my rec is the end of everything (tw csa)

such sharp teeth by rachel harrison (horror. tw for body horror)

wreckage of my presence by casey wilson (nonfiction, memoir)

anything by mona awad but bunny is a very summer book for me! alls well is perfect too.

just like home by sarah gailey (horror)

nightbitch by rachel yoder (horror. tw for body horror & animal deaths)

re-read a series you love! i just reread the hunger games and it was SOOOO GOOOOD

anything jane austen. anything anything anything!

any mary oliver poetry but it has to be read outside or right before a walk

my summer reading list!

beware the woman by megan abbott

tender is the flesh by agustina bazterrica

the ballad of songbirds and snakes by suzanne collins

(hopefully) scammer by caroline calloway (this book may never come)

if i had your face by frances cha

the guest by emma cline

leaving the rest up to chance :)

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Bisexual erasure. “When bisexuality is ignored, discriminated against, demonized, or rendered invisible by both the heterosexual world and the lesbian and gay communities. Often, the entire sexual orientation is branded as invalid, immoral, or irrelevant.”

what does it Look like?

- Assuming that two women together are lesbians, two men together are gay, or a man and a woman together are straight

- In most scientific studies, bisexuality is lumped in under “gay” or “lesbian” identities

- Many LGBTQ+ organizations don’t offer programming for bisexuals

- Questioning someone’s bisexuality if they haven’t had sex with both men and women.

what does it sound like?

- “I’m not interested in dating you because you’ve only dated men.” (Implying that I’m actually straight)

- “Bi women are more likely to leave you for a straight relationship.”

- “He’s only ever dated men, so he’s obviously gay.”

- “There’s no point in coming out as Bi if you never plan to leave your current relationship. You just want attention.”

what are the consequences?

- Bi erasure leads to bi phobia (discrimination, anger, blame, and hypersexualization).

- Bi people have *significantly* higher health risks than any other sexual identity group, including alarmingly high rates of depression and suicide.

- Bi women experience much higher rates of domestic violence.

- In the ‘80s and ‘90s bi people were blamed for spreading HIV. and we are still blamed for the spread of other STI’s.

what can I do?

- If you want to help, here’s what you can do:

- Check your own biases When someone says something shitty about bisexuality, correct them—even if a bisexual person isn’t present

- Ask your local LGBTQ+ orgs to offer bi/Pan programs

- Donate time or money to bi-specific organizations.

- Resources: Bisexual Resource Center (BiResource.org) Bi Plus Organizing US (@BiPlusOrgUS) Bi Pride UK (BiPrideUK.org) BiPhoria! (biphoria.org.uk) American Institute of Bisexuality (bisexuality.org) “Greedy: Notes from a Bisexual Who Wants Too Much” by Jen Winston “Look Both Ways: Bisexual Politics” by Jennifer Baumgardner “Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body” by Roxane Gay

#bisexuality #lgbtq community #lgbtq #bi #support bisexuality #pride #bi tumblr #bisexuality is valid #lgbtq pride #bi pride #bisexual nation #bisexual education #bisexual #bi erasure #bisexual erasure #bi community #bisexual community #bisexual visibility #biphobic #biphobia #biphobic gay people

[thatsdemko]

THATSDEMKO BOOK RECS

I love to write but I also love to read! this rec list will consist of books I’ve read, loved, and highly suggest reading! have any books you suggest I check out? feel free to let me know! enjoy xx

SCI-FI/ FANTASY

dune series by frank herbert

FICTION/ ROMANCE

call me by your name by andré aciman

perks of being a wallflower by stephen chbosky

one night on the island by josie silvers

the hunger games series by Suzanne Collins

the summer of broken rules by k.l walther

Daisy Jones & the six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Carrie soto is back by Taylor Jenkins reid

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by Taylor Jenkins reid

book lovers by Emily Henry

beach read by Emily Henry

Verity by colleen hoover (yes I know unfortunately it was good)

funny you should ask by elissa sussman

lord of the flies by William Golding

red white and royal blue by Casey mcquiston

heartstopper (vol 1-4) by Alice oseman

swimming in the dark by Tomasz Jedrowski

dirty air series by Lauren asher

twisted love & twisted games by Ana huang

king of wrath by Ana Huang

NONFICTION/ MEMOIRS

the story of Jane: the legendary underground feminist abortion service by Lauren Kaplan

my body by Emily Ratajkowski

#thatsdemko recs #book recs #book recommendations #bookish #tumblr recommendations #recommendations

[piratefalls]

Sleepover weekend! Your rec lists are top tier sooooooo rec us something (anything) that ISN'T fic. Fandom-related or not! Books? Stores? That One Kitchen Gadget You Can't Live Without?

xoxo MJ/kiwiana-writes

i love talking about books and other media!!! (bonus kitchen gadget rec at the end for making it that far.)

Books:

Anger is A Gift by Mark Oshiro

Beach Read by Emily Henry

This Is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper

For those who enjoy political satire, anything by Christopher Buckley

I'm Judging You: The Do-Better Manual by Luvvie Ajayi Jones

Beauty Queens by Libba Bray

Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay

Never Let Me Go by Kazoo Ishiguro

Linden Hills by Gloria Naylor

Movies (including my list of ones I rewatch):

Moonlight

Clue

The Meg

Knives Out

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle

The Man from Uncle

San Andreas

Fast Five

Ocean's Thirteen

Mel Brooks movies, specifically Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Young Frankenstein, Blazing Saddles, History of the World

The Wave (Norwegian disaster movie, one of the best tbh)

Downfall or Flight/Risk (because Boeing sucks and everyone should know it)

The Velocipastor. Go in completely blind. I promise when you think you have it figured out, you don't.

(as for that kitchen gadget, spend the money on a good meat thermometer and thank me later.)

sleepover weekend asks!

#can you tell I was an English major? I feel like that list of books points a finger directly at the degree fading in a box in my basement #didn't include shows because I have an entire tag page dedicated to things I've watched broken down by: #if I loved them - if I need to finish them - or won't be finishing #about me

[awstenknight]

oh my god girl you've read 100 books this year?? 100??? I'm speechless but also give us your top 10 please and thank you

top 10 hmmmmmm let me look through!!

in no order:

real friends - middle grade graphic novel about friends, family, school

all the things we never said - ya about three suicidal teenage girls who are matched as partners on a suicide pact website

fourth wing - emerging adult dragon book that reads like a fanfic. i am not a dragon book girl at ALL but i loved this one. hunger games/divergent vibes. a page-turner for me!!

the prince and the dressmaker - graphic novel. so sweet.

before we were blue - ya with alternating perspectives from roommates in inpatient ED treatment. kinda weak (not bad) ending, but the story as a whole was so good i didnt mind.

numb to this: memoir of a mass shooting - graphic novel memoir written by a college student who was on campus during a shooting. it's largely focused on the aftermath (spanning a few years of her life) and the shooting's affect on her friendships, family, and mental health

re-read of im glad my mom died - jennette mccurdy (sam from icarly)'s autobiography focused heavily on her eating disorder and her relationship with her abusive mom. also dealing with fame, what it's like behind the scenes, and growing into being an adult when you have no idea what that means.

hidden pictures - CONTROVERSIAL so i cant super super recommend it, but despite the controversy it was maybe my favorite book this year!! adult fiction about a 20-something recovering addict who takes a nanny job with a nice suburban family. the kid starts drawing freaky, unsettling pictures. the family gets a little stranger as time goes on, and clues start cropping up all over. some people think its dumb af, and some people love it. i happened to be in the love camp haha.

under the whipsering door wasnt a favorite necessarily but i really enjoyed it. the premise is that when people die, they go somewhere where a ferryman can take them to the afterlife. this book's ferryman works in a tea shop. spirits stay there until they're ready to pass through the whispering door - and nobody knows what's behind the door. the story is about a mean lawyer who dies and wakes up at the tea shop and refuses to go through the door. it had me choking up at one part, and im not a crier!! potentially very moving if youre in the right headspace. found family, huge growth from the main character. great read.

breathe and count back from ten - ya about a high school girl with hip dysplasia and overprotective parents. all she wants in the world is to be a professional mermaid and perform at her town's tourist attraction called mermaid cove. i wish the love story hadnt been part of this bc i was just interested in how her medical stuff affects her, hearing about her body image, seeing her interact with her family, watching her attempt to overcome obstacles, etc.

#anon #ask Aly