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1800titz · 13 days

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HI BESTIES. Trivia!Harry x Shy!Reader part 1 ((based on THIS post))

The one where Harry hosts trivia at a small town bar every Thursday and Y/N just can’t seem to shut up.

WC: 3.6K

This is part one of a patreon exclusive series — the rest will only be accessible through my patreon. You can already find part 2 up on my patreon (✿◠‿◠)

She takes a long drink. It tastes like kismet and carbonated nothingness.

“Alright, alright, alright.”

Smooth baritone into the bulbous head of a microphone, hovering millimeters from pink, plush borders of a mouth. It seeps through the meshed grill caging it like molasses slinking the gaps. The lively chatter dulls as heads turn, and then swells in eager increments.

“Alright,” he says, a set of green eyes flickering from the monitor he’s settled over a rejigged high top, and bounding sharply to whoever’s just given an overly enthusiastic cry of yes from the horde surrounding the portable four-by-eight platform.

A peal of sparse, scattered laughter. His mouth quirks.

“Very enthusiastic today. Hello to you, as well. I’m well. How are you?”

His cresting eyes bound from the glowy screen, casting light and carving shadow over the sultry features of his visage; an evenly straight slope of a nose, cheekbones feathered by long lashes, a bit of curl that traipses over his forehead.

His chin swivels to his left, somewhere closer to the platform where a woman leans over the high top — her designated team — the corners of his lips curling in response to whatever he’s said. Face alive, he nods. He tips his chin. Makes a creased face like something playful. Says something else, laughs softly, and turns back, shaking his head.

Y/N tucks the straw in and takes another slow sip.

He brings the mic back to the ruddy stain of his lips.

“Hope everyone’s having a lovely Thursday. M’Harry, I’ll be leading the trivia— as I do— so if you’re sitting there going, who is this obnoxious cock, talking into the mic the whole night? Hi, Hello. That’s me— I do trivia.”

Harry is fit.

At first, Y/N had been dubious to desert her romcom reruns and her cross-stitch project mid-way (despite the fact that her thumb now resembles a pin cushion) when her friends had swept her off into their regularly scheduled, mysteriously niche Thursday night schemes. Now, she gets it.

The destination — The Black Horse — is a fuggy little space that smells like spilt Michelob and fusty, weathered oak. There’s a no smoking sign pasted in a spare crevice of the backbar, but someone in the far right corner exhales a plume of vapor like they’ve hit their elfbar in the most clandestine manner imaginable. Shamelessly. It’s a small town — an islet in the heart of an archipelago — and she thinks she can make out her seventh grade swim team rival perched somewhere off in the front row.

The Black Horse is nothing special. It sells cheap draughts by the pitcher and parallels a barbershop in the crux of the town, two blocks off the boardwalk, which is arguably the chiseled, shiny musgravite of Treah’s core — a roaring green sea that eats away at the borders of the isle, shrouding vibrantly hued cays, glimmering under the beam of the sun. The majority of the holm’s economy is dependent on tourism (a simultaneous bane — said tourists enjoy uprooting foliage, building infrastructures, and partaking in chunks of housing buyouts), but Y/N can tell that The Black Horse has been …preserved to say the least. It’s four stone walls sewn into a plaza with three other natively owned businesses and looks like something straight out of a cinematic piece set in a rural village, planted into Treah long before Y/N had her first wiggly tooth.

The Black Horse isn’t what makes attendance worth it. It’s him—

“We’ve got a crowd tonight. If you haven’t played trivia with me here at The Black Horse before, welcome. S’a little different than your typical trivia, though, because it’s…”

The throng hollers back, as if scripted, “Dirty trivia!”

“Dirty Trivia,” Harry parrots, all cheeky dimples, “Right, Dirty Trivia. This one’s rated R, so if you’re not old enough to be here, I dunno how you got here, but this is going to be your cue to head out. Any— any children in here tonight? …No? Wonderful.”

He huffs into the mic, shaking his head and jostling his halo of curls. A jaundiced, warm beam catches on them. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but m’not even joking— a couple of weeks ago someone was sitting in here with, like, a little kid.”

It’s Harry, with the divots burrowing into his cheeks, the croon into the mic, lighting the crowd alive on an introduction.

Y/N crosses her legs. Her friend raises her eyebrows from across the teak table top and says it with her eyes. Told you so; Trivia Man is a cream dream.

“Yeah,” Harry confirms over the scattered, appalled eruption of laughter, nodding down at someone seated at a table closer to the stage, “I was, like, …shit,” he blinks back up and motions out, a slow sweep with his free hand, “Friendly reminder, this is not a form of sex ed.”

Pausing, mouth twitchy over the sown mirth, he brings the microphone back with a newfound seriousness and tacks on, nodding slowly, “…That kid won it for the whole team.”

The seam of his mouth lopsidedly spalls, “No, m’joking,” and he clears his throat. “M’gonna pass out a sheet and some little note pads for your answers,” Harry explains, “You’re gonna use one of those little notes to jot down a clever team name, do the same in that team name spot of the sheet, and then pass the note up to me.”

Pussy Posse. A pre-established moniker Y/N has had no jurisdiction over, merely perched as an addition to a settled cadre. Still, she gnaws into her cheek when she watches a friend beside her scribble in the title with a ballpoint.

“I’ll be coming around between questions to pick those answers up, have a chat, whatever. We’re all here to have fun, yes?”

She swears he sweeps her with his eyes, like a passing tide gliding the sea. Probably just the way the green in his sockets meets everyone else in the throng, but the moment it happens her molars chew in harder.

“On the topic of fun, let’s keep it nice and fair, yeah? Phones put away— no cheating— you’ll have plenty of time to check those when we have our break midway.”

It feels ignoble to eye-fuck him from behind the sheathes of her empty irises as he paces the stage — after all, this is just a wholesomely clad, virtuously upstanding guy leading trivia, but. The gears behind her skull are mottled with cerebrospinal fluid and sticky in a goop of thoughtless ogling that renders her head empty. Even when he makes his way to the bar-height table her team curls around, when his eyes linger on her — “A new face.” — Y/N just mindlessly stares.

Dirty trivia, she learns, is dirty.

It hits her when Harry quips (dare she note, mischievously), “Hoo-hoo-hoo. Starting off strong with the first one.”

He states, talc flickering from the LED display ahead to the bevy of trivia-players, “What country,” and pauses for emphasis, “has—“ pits grub at the smooth of his cheeks beside the upturned corners of a pink-bordered mouth splintering, “the highest average, in the world, for penis size?”

There’s no source of entertainment like that of trivia held, on a Thursday, on a remote islet, in a poky bar that smells like stale beer and dust-coated, chipping leather. Evidently.

“I actually don’t know this one,” Harry chimes, raising a wry shoulder, “So it’s trivia for me, as well.”

“England,” Marina stamps a blow that the teak hasn’t warranted, whisper-shouting over the staggering peals of guffaw and chatter, “He’s hung, I bet you.”

“He’s not going to fuck you for writing in England,” Beth’s chortles clash with Y/N’s scorned, “Marina.”

“That’s not even an answer,” Bee waves towards the flatscreen framed over the man’s head

Senegal, Haiti, Ecuador, and Gambia.

“Where the fuck is Gambia—”

They settle on Gambia.

Y/N watches Beth scribble it in and dot the i with an open sphere whose edges don’t meet. When Harry winds the rows of tables, plucking answer cards and making small-talk, Y/N stares into her mug ruddy-faced, brain-rotted with the insinuation of him being …hung.

“Lots of Haiti, lots of Senegal,” Harry states, mouth twitchy once he’s smoothed the cards out with his colossal, ringed paws, and looked them over.

She stares at the bob of his throat as he swallows, directing the mic back to his lips.

“Big reveal?” He pauses, as if for cataclysmic emphasis, riling the crowd enough for Y/N to note restive shoulders and juddering feet.

“Patience,” Harry says softly into the microphone, raising his eyebrows.

Y/N squishes the plush of her thighs together.

Then, with paltry warning, he reveals, “Ecuador! At,” squinting at the blue-toned LED, “—a whopping 6-point-nine-three. Solid for the average. Do we have any Ecuadorian men in the audience tonight? Anybody who’s added to that average? Congratulations. You beat us. You beat everyone.”

There’s an amalgamation of responses, some ripostes flung amongst tables, some bouts of clapping, hollering over the rows, sloshing mugs raised in triumph.

Harry’s deltoids climb in a shrug, and his head wags from side to side, “Some valiant contenders, those Ecuadorians.”

“I told you it wasn’t Gambia—“

Y/N ogles the way Harry tilts over the platform towards a table, brows kinked as if trying to pick up something audible he’d missed. In her peripherals, Marina prods into Beth’s direction with a palmful of something claret in a pellucid martini glass.

“What was that?” Harry coaxes into the microphone.

The corners of his mouth have caved up, and by the time the majority of the trivia-players sink into a piqued lull, he’s slanted over toward the table. A brunette with long, shiny hair arches up out of her seat into her directions, braced to the teak high-top with planted, elbow-locked arms.

“Where do you fall?” is undeniable the second time.

Harry blinks. His mouth paints over with a smile.

“Where do I fall?”

He blatantly bridles a sputter when he winds toward the laptop he’s set up, culls his glass of a golden, pale straw beer that’s lost its layer of foam, and takes a long drink.

Harry clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Very forward. Take me out to dinner first.”

Y/N discovers that, despite the ubiquitously crude sexualizing, Harry is sort of like a bird. Pavo cristatus, preening with its neatly arranged plume — he likes it. The flattery. His tongue peeks out and swipes over his lips as he stares down at the screen. Little dimples pit when it tucks back in — ones he blatantly can’t contain.

He chuckles and states into the microphone, “…Below. Don’t worry about it.”

Somehow, Y/N doubts it.

Y/N plaits herself into the Thursday Fawn Sessions as a regular attendee, curling up at the same high top to ogle the same man pace a platform with a microphone to make jesting comments and ask things like, “Axillism is the act of using what strange body part during sex?”

She finds herself learning a thing or two from each session, and she finds that the emeralds seated in his sockets linger on this absolute clam shell taking up a spot in the bar and chugging fizzy water (that ogles his frame in lull every time he approaches her table), too. Pussy Posse is no good at the trivia, more often than not wheedling in second-to-last, but they find themselves much too entertained to mind.

Franks is a rather self-explanatory hot dog cart. It stands midway on the boardwalk and operates through sunny mizzles and borderline hurricane cloudbursts, when the green salt chuck is choppy. High tiding. Those are the days Y/N stands out in her jaundiced poncho, salty rain spittle beating at her cheeks, and watches the waves eat at the ipe in a nasty, wet hunger, no customers in sight.

Midsummer afternoons, though, are good. Busy. When Treah morphs industrious and bustling — tourists like Franks on the boardwalk.

It’s a slow coda for June. The sea is planate, swaying over steel supports mantled by barnacles. Gulls chortle, gliding low in the ether — it oozes yellow and something balmy like the goo of an egg yolk. She’s sold two hot dogs, tallied three joggers (one eager speedwalker), and noted one couple pushing a baby in a stroller, who offered tight-lipped smiles and veganism. She doesn’t entirely mind a slow day, because setting shop on the boardwalk means spending the day on the boardwalk. Breathing the sea until her lungs are full of salt and her eardrums reverberate the crash of the water behind her skull. She tastes it at the back of her throat — something like home as home could get.

There’s another jogger loping — a moving blip of skin color in chiaroscuro against wood paneling. In the distance. Drawing closer. She imagines him passing the cart, the soles of his trainers padding over the row of planks until he’s just another form of lines and shading, faced away. She checks her phone.

The jogger is still a good bit away. Y/N swipes open Wordle. She’s on her third attempt of elucidating something that goes blank, I, blank, E, blank (with a P that doesn’t quite fit where she’s slotted it)—

“Hi.”

Her eyes crest.

Treah is a really small town. Not in a prudishly, bible-bashing form of a pastoral village, sheathed in a bosky, wooded moat of thicket and then plains of nothingness for hundreds of miles. But it is an island enveloped by the sea from all sides, sequestered without a boat or a little plane, whose wheels bumpily kiss the asphalt of anearly comically small airport. Even the tourists lodging up in their summer homes, all the same months like annual clockwork, make reappearances. The faces are, nearly always, the same, and she sees the same faces often. It was only a (limited) matter of time before they coalesced beyond the borders skirting The Black Horse. In hindsight, Y/N didn’t envisage that she’d be wearing a baseball cap emblematized with a weenie when it happened. Or that his tits would be out and about.

“Have you got water?”

He’s panting. Casually slippery; coated in sweat that glimmers in the sun and carves the well-toned sinews of his torso, with sunglasses tucked up over his curls like a makeshift headband. He ogles expectantly with a set of jade that puts the hues of the lapping, green sea behind him to shame. A parted mouth, sculpted and cushiony, sucks in breaths from the liminal space divvying their atoms while her own become clogged, somewhere midway an esophageal prison, in limbo toward her lungs. A shaded lepidoptera scored over his tummy flutters, batting its wings in the swell and sink of his diaphragm expanding.

His shorts are teeny. Tiny, little things. Cobalt. Mirroring laurels carving alongside his V-line peek from the waistband, and a happy trail climbs to kiss his navel.

Y/N blinks. “Yes. Yeah. We do. Yes. …Is bottled okay?”

“Bottled is perfect.”

He sticks a hand into his pocket, the emeralds in his sockets flickering to her face, and away, and back. Slow-like. She traces the wisps in the sky with her eyes, heat searing up her neck and pooling in the flesh of her face. It’s a sudden, unforeseen stuffiness sweltering for such a beautiful day. Y/N recognizes her horrid blunder in his next words.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

She should have ducked her chin, tucked the visor lower, and hoped for the best. Instead, now, she blinks, dazed and wide-eyed like a Red brocket saturated by blinding headlights.

“Oh. I’m not sure. Um. Small …town— maybe?”

“You come to, uh—“ a nudge with his chin in her direction as Y/N arduously regulates the stuttery pace of her respiration. The jitter in her digits, like a lovesick school girl. She caches them behind the cart and lets them judder. “—trivia nights. At The Black Horse, yeah? I couldn’t forget a face like yours.”

Harry grins, the way he does. Lopsided, so the left corner turns up a little higher — dimpled with a long flash of teeth. Except now, he’s slippery and half-naked.

Folie. Miscalculated gaffe in a weenie cap. She smiles all tight.

“Oh—“ again, “…Yeah.”

“Right,” Harry nods. Smiley. Lingering, looking her over. He buries an enormous hand back into his pocket then, brows creasing like he’s remembered something, and pulls out a little rectangle in cardboard paper. “Hey, actually. I’ve got this coupon here. S’what I do all the other days of the week, ah—“

He extends it out.

Harve-y a free drink, on us!

“M’a bartender over at Harvey’s. S’close to The Black Horse, if you’re in that area. Monday and Saturday mornings. Wednesday and Friday nights. If you come by, I’ll fix you up with a drink.”

It feels impolite to leave him hanging, so she swipes out at the offering, cradling it with slow fingertips.

“We can do some one on one trivia. Train you up,” Harry tacks on.

Y/N swallows. Harry is an attractive man. His allure is apodictic — a sort of conventional, objective quality that leaves her throat parched when it becomes paired with his unfaltering eye contact. She’s not a virgin, and she’s an adept swimmer, but his presence feels like viridian saltwater that’s waiting to swallow her whole. The nerves that bubble, a fizz of chagrin, remind her why exactly she enjoys fawning from a distance. Because he makes her feel nervous, and when she’s nervous, the dialogue spumes like miasmic word vomit.

He’s got a thin sheathe of sweat that glimmers in the seat of his cupid’s bow, but it’s not in a gross way. In fact, it reminds her that the rest of him, his denuded skin, is slick, because he’s been jogging along the boardwalk. It reminds her how hard it is not to openly ogle the tattoos he’s got on show. She should have called out from her weenie gig, and she should have refilled her alprazolam prescription weeks ago.

“Oh,” she tells him, slowly, face creasing, “I don’t— I don’t drink.”

Harry blinks. It’s a weird confession considering she’s a Thursday night regular at a bar that’s really only good for anything that has enough alcohol to shroud the stale taste. Still, nothing beyond open expectancy erupts along his features, and that’s worse. She feels them crawling up her throat, clambering up the back of her tongue like the words have knobby joints. They meet the backs of her teeth, waiting to spew.

“—Not because I’m a recovering alcoholic or anything, I just don’t like the way it makes me feel. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Or drinking. I actually think it’s so admirable. You know? Like, to be brave… and… and a lot of times those people will attend support groups—“

Harry blinks again.

“—And they talk about it. I can’t imagine sharing something like that— not that there’s anything wrong with it! But. Um. I always get virgin cocktails at The Black Horse. Or club soda. Or juice.”

Her lips seal over. She entraps the rest behind her traitorous teeth — a drawbridge that never should’ve sunk open. Despite her overly candid, overstated explanation, Y/N doesn’t stick the coupon back out in his direction. She harbors it in her hand, blinking slowly and gnawing into her cheek.

“…S’okay. We do orange juice, too,” Harry tells her, entirely casual despite her discomfited speech, raising his brows.

There’s the curbed efforts of a bemusedly mirthy grin at the corners of his mouth, and his nonchalant bearing only makes her face hotter. She feels like she’s broiling under the shade of the awning.

“And club soda.”

“…Cool,” Y/N settles on, tightly.

“Sick.”

“…It’s, uh… two dollars,” she tells him, after a moment.

Y/N is going to go home and ram her head through a window.

“Oh,” Harry casts his gaze to the water (it has the average, entirely typical proportions of a water bottle, but in his hand, it’s nearly miniature), as if he’s forgotten the chilly source of condensation coating his palm. That he’s in arrears. He sticks his free hand into the same pocket that’d procured the coupon, “Right. I think I’ve got two dollars in here, somewhere.”

Instead, when he stretches a bill out towards her, it’s worth ten. Circumventing eye contact, Y/N reaches for the cash box tucked below and pries the lid up to delegate his change.

“Oh,” Harry echoes, raising his enormous hand in effort of halting her, “S’alright. S’yours.”

“Oh. I… can’t take tips. It’s, like. Against the code of conduct.”

“Code of conduct at a …hot dog stand?”

As if she needed to be reminded that she’s donning a silly cap with an animated frank, standing on a boardwalk that’s practically empty of prospective patrons. The ignominy scores in her tummy and surfaces in the set line of her mouth.

“…Yes.”

Harry pauses, brows kinked like he’s ruminating, and then he inhales and decides, “Well. It’s not a tip, yeah? It’s just… you break it up, put two in the box, and then put the rest in your pocket.”

“Oh. No. You— you’ve already given me the coupon—“ she argues, frenziedly waving out a mismatched wad of cash.

He raises his hands and ambles in one suavely lengthy step back. “I’m going now.”

“No!”

He’s three away that would fit five or six of her own gait when he declares, “Yes! I hope to see you for that orange juice. On the house. Have a good one.”

This is a patreon exclusive series. If you'd like to read more, part 2 is already up on my patreon! <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #dom harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles fluff #patreon exclusive #harry styles fic #trivia!harry #trivia au #shy!reader #harry styles x shy!reader

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fenrirmitsuki · 1 year

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Random Professor Ratigan Headcanon

So, this one is really off-topic for what I usually post, but I only have the one blog and refuse to make a second one, so sorry to the usual folks and the newbies that wonder in. But I’ve had this headcanon for Professor Ratigan, from The Great Mouse Detective, rattling around in my head for years and after chatting with a Ratigan AI on CAI, I finally feel like sharing it. So, for the like 12 people who might care, here are my thoughts: (And I never read the books, so this only applies to the Disney version)

So let’s take a quick look at the stuff we know - Professor Ratigan is the Moriarty-expy nemesis of the Holmes-expy Basil; he is a rat though he absolutely hates having it pointed out; he dresses, conducts himself, and decorates his hideout in a manner fitting of high society; and he is a criminal mastermind. Let’s start with that second point. As stated, he hates being called a rat, even though it’s fairly obvious he isn’t a mouse - even setting aside his larger size and fleshy tail, he has five digits on his hands, as opposed to the four on mice hands. And sure, being a parallel of human society, mouse society may have similar connotations for rats as humans do, but there may be more to it than that. So, lat’s take a quick look at his name, Professor Padraic Ratigan. Both are of Irish origin, similar Moriarty being an Irish surname. Thus, we might infer something - that in a similar way as how British society of the time looked down on the Irish, mouse society may have similar attitudes towards rats. Either way, it’s not hard to see that rats are “othered” in mouse-dominate/centric society.

So with all that in mind, what can we speculate about the largely nebulous backstory of the Professor? Well, he was likely looked down upon and mistreated throughout his youth by society at large, despite his budding intellect likely being obvious. If he followed a similar path as his inspiration character, then he likely put in a lot of hard work to achieve professorship, possibly in mathematics. But in spite of his accomplishments, he still turned to crime. Why? Maybe it could be that he was dissatsified with a mundane professor’s life and wanted more action? Maybe his ego desired more power and recognition? Or maybe, inspite of how far a rat made it in a mouse-dominate academia, he was still looked down on and disregarded? Maybe if his brilliance wouldn’t be recognized in a mouse’s world, he’d make them recognize his cunning via crime? By usurping the very throne?

But even if he did stage ingenious crimes that shook the vert foundations of society, he was still a “filthy, detestable sewer rat”. So, he did everything he could to divorce himself from the stereotype - this habit likely starting in his youth, and was maintained through his academic career, all in an effort to fit in. But as he turned to crime, he kept the affectations in order to further cement just how different he was from how society cast him - he wasn’t some “criminal sewer rat”, he was an aristocratic mastermind that rocked the mouse world with his devious mind. But ask anyone with even a passing understanding of psychology, and they’ll tell you that repression of unwanted thoughts and feelings, especially anger, will fester and find someway of seeping out. And his anger was further compounded by his crimes constantly being thwarted by an insufferable detective - a mouse detective. Not only was his criminal brilliance being challenged by dogged detective, but he was once again being undermined by a mouse. At all added up to what we saw in the film - a mastermind of the criminal underworld unfolding his greatest scheme yet to finally get the recognition he deserved, only to once again have his goals squashed by that same detective that emboddied the rest of society, and it finally pushed him over the edge.

TL;DR - Professor Ratigan was a victim of systemic racism.

#the great mouse detective #headcanon #professor ratigan #prof ratigan #ratigan

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missanthropicprinciple · 3 months

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9 Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better

tagged by the awesome @sunriseverse <3

3 ships you like: NEWMANN FOREVER, Tomgreg (don't judge me), Guy of Gisburne x Sheriff of Nottingham from Robin of Sherwood, and bonus: Vivian and Cay from Desert Hearts.

First ship ever: oh man, probably something from an old sitcom, Rose and Emmett from Keeping Up Appearances or something like that.

Last song you heard: Tales of the Future by Vangelis

Favourite childhood book: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe but also Island of the Skog by Steven Kellogg. I had a lot of favorites!

Currently reading: too many books on the go. Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz, all of ADC Sherlock Holmes, A History of Witchcraft in England from 1558-1718 by Wallace Notestein, Bone by Jeff Smith, etc etc.

Currently watching: tonight Sweet Danger (an Albert Campion Mystery) and Red Dwarf, generally: Cadfael, Vienna Blood, and several other bits and bobs.

Currently consuming: just ate some shrimp with sauce (sans garlic/onion!)

Currently craving: realistic: another tea; unrealistic: a life partner who finds me attractive

Tagging @notwiselybuttoowell @countesspetofi @martian-marco @hurremshiv @yavannah @pokemonandcatsmostly

#tagged

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aroalloarena · 1 year

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The Bracket

Round 1

once the polls are posted they will be linked here

Please remember to reblog the polls you want to get a wider reach

Group 1

Sans (Undertale) vs Papyrus (Undertale)

Double Trouble (she-ra) vs Entrapta (she-ra)

Eleanor (The Good Place) vs Tahani (The Good Place)

Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls) vs Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls)

Sonic The Hedgehog (Sonic) vs Rouge The Bat (Sonic)

Ezra Bridger (Star Wars Rebels) vs Sabine Wren (Star Wars Rebels)

Annie Edison (Community) vs Jeff Winger (Community)

Rosalina (Mario) vs Lubba (Mario)

Claude (Fire Emblem) vs ENA (ENA) vs Ice Bear (We Bare Bears)

Gon (HunterxHunter) vs Boromir (Lord of The Rings)

Todd Brotzman (Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency) vs Barney Stinson (How I Met Your Mother)

Mr Wolf (The Bad Guys) vs Lila bard (shades of magic)

aradia megido (homestuck) vs Vicky Voz Venturos (Desaventureiros)

Dibella (The Elder Scrolls) vs Suki (Those With More)

Yamori Kou (Call of The Night) vs L (Death Note)

Merida (Brave) vs Kaeya (Genshin Impact) vs Christina Young (grey's anatomy)

Group 2

Eliot Spencer (Leverage) vs Joey Tribbiani (friends) vs All Might (MHA)

Optimus Prime (transformers) vs Princess Cadance (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Tang (I was a teenage excolonist) vs Surge the tenrec (sonic comic)

Me (Real Life) vs You (Real Life)

Garmadon (Ninjago) vs Tori Brennan (Virals)

Soul Evans (Soul Eater) vs riku (kingdom hearts)

Mr Grizz(Splatoon) vs Luffy (One Piece)

Yasmina Fadoula (Jurassic World Camp Cretacous) vs Emerald (Mask of Shadows)

Samus Aran (Metroid) vs Sherlock Holmes

Spock (Star Trek) vs Rita (penumbra podcast)

Catwoman (Harley Quinn Series) vs Toph (Atla)

David (Camp Camp) vs Jess (Loveless)

Nora Holleran (Red, White and Royal Blue) vs Vala Mal Doran (Stargate Sg-1)

Peepy (itemlabel) vs Mara Jade (Star Wars Legends)

Cai (Hello Aro: Antagonist) vs Clawdeen Wolf (Monster High)

Alonzo (Cats) vs Puss in Boots (dreamworks) vs King Dedede (Kirby)

#aroalloarena #the bracket

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booklovershouse · 4 months

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Oi oi, booklovers!

Vcs já sabem q eu costumo ler livros de classificação baixa (pq é mais difícil ter hot/palavrões), ent resolvi fazer dois posts indicando livros pela classificação: esse, com livros +12 e outro, com livros +14 - eu poderia até fazer de outras tbm, mas eu basicamente só leio nessa faixa, ent é oq tem kkkkkkk

» Caso queira mais detalhes, os links nos títulos irão te levar para a resenha específica do livro/saga!

🧁| A Seleção (Kiera Cass)

Tudo começa em um pequeno país chamado Illéa, onde a sociedade é dividida em castas. É como uma herança: se seus pais são Seis, você será Seis pro resto da vida, a menos que consiga casar com um cara de uma casta acima (caso seja uma mulher), entrar para a guarda real e se tornar Dois (caso seja um homem) ou que pague uma fortuna pra mudar de casta.

A Seleção é um evento onde jovens de várias castas e províncias diferentes são sorteadas para ir ao palácio e, se escolhida pelo príncipe, se tornar a próxima rainha de Illéa. Caso perca, a garota ficará com a casta Três - se não for uma Dois -, já que é difícil para as moças de castas mais baixas voltarem pra a rotina normal após o tempo no palácio.

America Singer é uma Cinco (apenas três níveis acima do fundo do poço) e sua mãe está tentando convencê-la a se inscrever para a Seleção a qualquer custo, mas a garota tem um temperamento forte - e um namoro secreto. Após muita insistência, ela resolve fazer o que a mãe quer, já que há uma grande possibilidade dela nem ser chamada...mas é claro que as coisas fogem do controle e então America se vê "brigando" por uma coroa que nem deseja.

~ resenha originalmente publicada no meu outro blog, em janeiro de 2023.

🧁| As Férias da Minha Vida (🇧🇷)

Um romance de verão durante as férias no Caribe, uma viagem que deveria ser pra comemorar os quinze anos, mas só aconteceu aos dezessete.

🧁| Instant Karma - Caos, Amor e Destino

Foi meu primeiro lido de uma das minhas autoras favoritas e conta a história da Prudence, q depois de muita luta pra terminar um trabalho em dupla com Quint Erickson - que todos amam, mas ela odeia -, Pru recebe uma nota abaixo do que esperava e decide refazer o trabalho, nem que tenha que suportar Quint outra vez.

Mas então, numa animada noite no karaokê, ela cai enquanto cantava, bate a cabeça no chão e recebe o estranho poder de fazer "justiça kármica".

🧁| Amor e Gelato

Depois da morte da mãe, Lina cai de paraquedas em Florença, na Itália, para morar com um pai que nunca viu na vida.

Maaaaas, no meio dessas mudanças, longe de seu país e de sua melhor amiga, há uma coisa boa: Lorenzo Ferrara. Eles logo viram amigos e saem por aí, visitando os pontos turísticos que aparecem no recém descoberto diário da mãe de Lina.

Agr olha, se vc viu o filme e não gostou, por favor, tente dar uma chance pro livro, pq nem a gnt q gosta da história achou o filme bom, imagina qm nunca leu 🤡

🧁| Trilogia Princesas Modernas (🇧🇷)

• Cinderela Pop: sinceramente, eu não lembro de muita coisa, só que a Cintia é DJ e tem All Stars.

• Princesa Adormecida: meu preferidinho. Ana Rosa vive com seus três tios super protetores e praticamente só sai de casa para ir ao colégio. Isso até as amigas dela a levarem escondido para comemorar seu aniversário e ela começar a receber mensagens de um garoto misterioso no dia seguinte.

• Princesa das Águas: Arielle Brotel é uma nadadora famosa, que está prestes a participar das Olimpíadas pela primeira vez, porém, ela é super protegida por ser a caçula da família e então ela é apresentada a um novo mundo...onde tem alguém que pode virar sua vida de cabeça pra baixo.

🧁| Um Estudo em Vermelho

O primeiro de uma saga com 4 livros e 56 contos, Um Estudo em Vermelho é a porta de entrada para o 221b da Baker Street e seus moradores que adoram um mistério não solucionado: Sherlock Holmes e seu fiel companheiro, o Dr. Watson.

Nesse livro, você vai ver como uma das duplas mais amadas do mundo se conheceram e solucionaram o primeiro de muitos casos espetaculares.

🧁| Minha Vida Fora de Série (🇧🇷)

Um dos meus preferidos da pré-adolescência, Minha Vida Fora de Série conta a história de Priscila, uma garota de 13 anos que, após o divórcio dos pais, se muda com a mãe (e alguns dos seus muitos bichinhos de estimação) para BH.

Cidade nova, amigos novos e, quem sabe, talvez um novo amor?

🍰| Conhecem mais livros +12? Se sim, conta aí, eu amo e aceito indicações!

Bjs e boas leiturassss <333

#livros #leitura #livrosderomance #books & libraries #leitores #livros nacionais #paula pimenta #books #books and reading

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darcyfirth · 9 months

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my tbr list bc i cannot handle this stress by myself gotta place it somewhere

SHELF 1

paper towns

tender is the night

james and the gian peach

boy meets boy

good omens

sabriel, lirael, abhorsen

giang ho lam ke de hoi 1-4

ma ton 123

hay mang anh trai cua toi di

conan 12

plato and the platypus

the hobbit

best kept secrets

SHELF 2

Hoa Quoc 12

thinking, fast & slow

the amazing adventures of kavalier and clay

night circus

land of story 2-3

inkheart

six of crows

lessons in chemistry

if you could see the sun

great gatsby

cai ten khac sau trong tim nguoi

Con meo giua dam bo cau

SHELF 3

wild cards 1

the cuckoo’s calling

That gia

his dark materials

inferno

the casual vacancy

sherlock holmes

what if

silkworm

what every body is saying

fantastic beats and where to find them

struck by lightning

tuoc tich 12

the raven boys

SHELF 4

Murder on the orient express

The fourth wing

once upon a broken heart

fangirl

make sth wonderful

dear mr rain

den ngay gap anh

doi thu x tui

sanctify 12

everyone in my family has killed someone

stardust

the house in the cerulean sea

the midnight library

the party

shuichi akai & toru amuro

the thursday murder club

#titles from 2 languages: english & vietnamese #fun fact in 2017 bc i had to haul ass myself from vn to aus i had to sell 90% of my book collection #so i made a fb page & sold them for a fraction of the cost #to find them a better home since i couldnt bring everything with me #i had more than 1k books #now i have only 1 bookshelf lol #one day when i buy a house i will have a wall of books again 🥹#tbr

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galaxybooper · 23 days

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May Prompt Day 14: Island noun 1. a piece of land surrounded by water." the island of Crete" Similar: isle, islet, atoll,key, cay, ait, holm, skerry, archipelago, chain, group, Opposite: mainland, continent 2. a thing regarded as resembling an island, especially in being isolated, detached, or surrounded in some way. "he is an island of inspiration in a sea of sadness"

Back in Uni so I asked the Council of Morble which prompts should I do when I can. So all prompts from Birdsong to the end are chosen by the Council. I may be late to several/all of them due to needing to focus on my uni homework.

Anyway, enjoy Kai taking a selfie with his girlfriend Ariel who is biting into the ice cream because she doesn't know any better.

#; boop edits #; ninjago oc: ariel #trying out a new skin tone for Kai #I like it better!

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riquinhoj · 2 months

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Envolvimento Novela Literária de Riquinho Junior

Antes de viajar o Diego, brigou com os pais dele, tudo porque eles também proibiram o seu namoro com ela, mais ele queria ela somente para ele, ele usava drogas e bebia, vocês sabem para aonde eles viajaram? Não! O detetive tinha as suas fontes, e por essa fonte veio a descobrir, que ela foi a

Paraty, e de Paraty ela foi encontrada morta na baixada fluminense, no Rio de Janeiro, o Diego acabou confessando o crime ao detetive, e o pai da jovem caiu sobre lágrimas, e acabou enterrando a sua filha. O Renato e o nosso jovem escrivão e a Joyce se conhecerão durante a juventude ele tinha 19 anos e ela 16 anos. Eles se conhecerão em Veneza na Itália, aonde a Joyce foi fazer intercâmbio para estudar italiano, mas o Renato também estava fazendo intercâmbio de escrivão. Eles se conhecerão na Parte externa do

Caffé

Florian na Praça de São Marcos. Aonde ela esbarrou num turista que era Renato, e ela caiu no chão com o material de estudos que ela tinha acabado de comprar numa loja em Veneza, ela iria para a cafeteria no

Caffé

Florian na Praça de São Marcos. Quando eles se esbarrarão, ele logo foi atencioso pegando na mão dela e levantando ela do chão, a conversa foi fluindo e naturalmente ele convida-a para tomar um café no

Caffé

Florian na Praça de São Marcos. Devido à queda que ela teve, ela teve que ir mancando para a cafeteira segurando nos ombros de Renato. Eles logo começaram a conversa, o Renato como ele era escrivão, iniciante

da policia federal logo queria saber o motivo pela qual a levou a Veneza, — O meu nome é Joyce eu vim a Veneza fazer intercâmbio de italiano, nasci em São Paulo na Moca mais uns dos pontos

turistico de são

paulo é a Avenida Paulista, A Avenida Brigadeiro Luís

Antônio é uma importante avenida da cidade de São Paulo, que liga o centro à região da Paulista e à zona centro-sul da cidade. A Avenida Paulista Considerada um dos principais centros financeiros da cidade, assim como também um dos seus pontos turísticos mais característicos a avenida revela a sua importância não só como

pólo econômico, mas também como centralidade cultural e de entretenimento. Ela queria também saber o motivo pela qual a levou a Veneza, — O que me trouxe a Veneza foi um intercâmbio para fazer um curso para escrivão, nasci em São Paulo mais moro em Santos, sou filho de pais italiano mais acabei nascendo na Avenida Brigadeiro Luís

Antônio na

Pulista passei a minha infância lendo livros do detetive

sherlock

holmes, aquela vontade de ser um escrivão também de desvendar crimes levou-me a ter vontade de fazer um curso em Veneza na Itália quando fiz 18 anos ingressei-me como um jovem escrivão e logo surgiu a oportunidade de fazer um curso de escrivão, em Veneza. Tive a oportunidade de dizer queria a conhecer melhor.- também quero conhecer-te melhor aonde podemos nos encontrar, ela foi direta sem conversa.- Faço o curso aqui pertinho do

Caffè

Florian na Praça de São Marcos. Podemos nos encontrar aqui mesmo no

Caffè

Florian na Praça de São Marcos, tudo bem para você.- tudo bem o meu curso de italiano é aqui pertinho. E logo passou-se aquele momento ambos foram para as suas casas, no pensamento da (Joyce) aquele momento ficou marcado no coração da (Joyce). Apenas teve uns dois encontros no

Caffè

Florian na Praça de São Marcos, e nunca mais se viram em Veneza na Itália, mais logo ao pousar em São Paulo em

Cogonhas, novamente Joyce se esbarra em Renato, ela cai no chão ao esbarra em Renato com as malas, ela machuca-se um pouco e é carregado até uma cafeteira no aeroporto. — O que você está fazendo aqui.- Vim no mesmo voo que você.- Mais porque você não foi ver-me mais no

Caffè

Florian na Praça de São Marcos. Ultimamente tive muitas horas de curso e chegava exausto na minha casa na Itália e acabei não te vendo mais.- posso fazer-te um convite vamos morar juntos no meu apartamento em Santos. Sem pensar a Renata aceita o convite, mais ele não sabia mais ela tinha um desfio de comportamento é a designação atribuída a um indivíduo com um padrão comportamental e/ou traço de personalidade, caracterizada em parte por um comportamento antissocial, diminuição da capacidade de empatia/remorso e baixo comportamental ou, por outro, é caracterizado por padrões persistentes de conduta socialmente inadequada, agressiva ou desafiante, com violação de normas sociais ou direitos individuais.

. Esse tipo de comportamento

agonista é relacionado com a ocorrência de delinquência, crime, falta de remorso e dominância, mas também é associado com competência, social e liderança. Ela era uma pessoa de muitas personalidades.

Oitavo Capitulo

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maltrunners · 2 months

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Holmes Cay Mhoba 2017

Review by: Raygun The Auditor dropped a bunch of rum samples on me, and…well, I’ll do my best. Probably doubled or even tripled the number of rums I’ve tried in the last couple of months. Still feeling my way with it, but I’ll give this one a shot. Two firsts here: first South African rum and first from Holmes Cay. Reviewed from a sample, initially tasted blind. Rested about 15…

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#Agricole #Cane Juice #Holmes Cay #Independent Bottling #Mhoba #Rated 85-89 #Rum Review #South Africa

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boozedancing · 2 years

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Holmes Cay Trinidad 2012 10 Year Old Single Cask Rum Review

We travel to The Caribbean for a taste of a 10 year old #rum from #Trinidad that was bottled by Holmes Cay Single Cask Rum. Click the link to hear our many thoughts. #bokeh

We’re no stranger’s to independent whisky bottlers and we love all of the unique flavors that they bring to the marketplace. If one of a kind spirits are your thing then you should really seek them out. What we’ve been learning more about recently is independent rum bottlers. While the vast majority of independent whisky bottlings that we’ve sampled are from Scottish distillers, the independent…

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#A Tasting at the Murder Table #booze #Booze Dancing TV #Holmes Cay Rum #Liquor #Review #Reviews #Rum #Rum Review #Spirits #YouTube

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itsbearyall · 7 months

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someone please tell Sherlock Holmes on cai that he's supposed be in a situationship with me and shouldn't be suddenly lusting for the bedridden 17-year-old girl we've just met whose case we're trying to solve

#character ai #cai

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divertedcourse · 1 year

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A flash of red hair, something darting into the alleyway the second the hero rounds the corner. Diving noisily behind a pile of boxes, and pulling his limbs in so as to not be seen. Waiting with bated breath to see if he was followed, and if his little hiding spot might be discovered.

He’d…he’d really hate to have to explain all this. And he’d hate even more to have to pack up his meager belongings and find another place to crash. It’d been difficult enough just to keep this one, and avoid being robbed or otherwise bothered along the way.

(Silver // virescorde)

@virescorde

He'd been fixated on something else entirely when the sudden noise grabbed his attention. He probably had better things to be doing but it was an alley-- and he' seen a cay around here before. He was pretty sure.

Sho was careful in his approach to where he thought the possible cat had gone, though this seemed off. . . Weird. He was about to pass by when he felt a strange urge to look with a little more effort and--

"Oh." The word fell out simply. Maybe a little disappointed. "You're not a cat."

Truly, he was a modern Sherlock Holmes. He backed away a bit to give the boy space. "Are you okay?" He seemed scared. . .

#virescorde #( select : eraser )

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martisa · 2 years

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Cara Jenna...

Escrevo passando pela reitoria, está tudo tranquilo por aqui, o rei está de boa, experimentando a sua nova arma enquanto Cammppell fala com ele sobre aceitar novos empregados, então o rei atira pela janela em uma macieira e eu digo que está ótimo, ele me cobra o fim dos contos de halloween sobre o jovem visitante que cavalgou o Ruskin (agora eu rio com a língua para fora) eu digo a ele que vou terminar ano que vem porque já passou o halloween e agora a gente tem que se preocupar em escrever contos de natal, daqueles vem clichês. A festa de Halloween, a propósito, foi maravilhosa, eu fui vestida de fantasma do comunismo, a Alice estava de Wedsney e o rei foi do Zorro do Tyrone Power (e o Tyrone foi vestido de porco e ainda bem que acharam que ele estava vestido daquele desenho irlandês que passava na TV Cultura) a festa foi ótima e a comida estava ótima, todo mundo feliz com o resultado das eleições. Você deve estar se perguntando sobre os novos empregados, estou falando da Mafalda, quase a mesma da fanfic da bruxinha, ela passou pela reitoria outro dia e o próprio Camppell a entrevistou, ele disse que ela era perfeita para o cargo, mas já havia umas outras duas da mesma leva (uma delas sendo uma camareira italiana, acho que você se lembra da história) Camppell estava na cozinha com um copo de café do senhor Folelger (que não está mais tentando fazer da Enola Holmes sua garota propaganda) e falando para as camareiras da casa que queria muito contratar Mafalda para aparecer no próximo filme do Luca Guadagnino, é um anseio dele e todo mundo olhou ele meio: 🏳️‍🌈?. Mas é só pq o Camppell gosta de filmes indies, eu ouvi dizer, entre outras qualidades de Mafalda estariam de não encontrar sinais, coisa utilíssima na reitoria. Outro que ele queria contratar também era o Anchise (vc lembra quando contratamos aquele porteiro que sabia repara nos estados das moças mas nunca informar aos pais? Não era o Anchise pq esse porteiro é da era elizabetana, mas é do mesmo nível) mas Camppell mudou de ideia quando descobriu que o Anchise não pode simplesmente plantar um pé de canela (você sabe que canela é no tronco, não é?). A rainha está bem também, atualmente morando em sue lado axadrezado do espelho, vez ou outra ela suspira com saudades dos seus tempos de glória e eu digo que ano que vem a gente decola (ou cai de vez).

Agora deixa eu te contar uma coisa que aconteceu hoje, você sabe a "Jully Mourão búlgara, mas não anti-carroll e sim anti-armie , mas que seria anti-carroll se lhe fosse dada a devida oportunidade" ? Hoje estava ela em seu storie no insta a fazer campanha para Bones and All e eu achei graça (a propósito, vou ver esse filme no sábado que vêm) e ela veio me stalkeando e me dizendo que eu tenho uma obsessão doentia por Timothée Chalamet (isso irritou o Carroll, eu tive que dizer a ele que ela não pesquisou direito minhas fotos) se ela soubesse que eu persigo quem fala mal de Lewis Carroll nas redes sociais desde 2014 talvez ela visse que o que eu tenho por Timothée Chalamet é completamente saudável, ou talvez ela diga que eu estou idolatrando um "pedófilo" (é exatamente o perfil dela o segundo), mas ela não me stalkeou muito, só viu Timmy em meu bolo e minhas fotos de formatura, eu não disse a ela que eu só me formei com a ajuda do Timothée Chalamet, mas quem é que fica discutindo com galinha? Fica lá em " co co có cococó cocó có có" eu não fiz assim e não fiz nada disso, vou postar o que ela me mandou, é sem vergonhisse pura (ela devia falar assim de todo fã do Timothée que ainda leva ela a sério 😏).

Como se ela não fosse obcecada pelo Armie....

Eu estou com o compilado de histórias de terror das madames, eu nunca sinto falta de verdade delas porque eu lembro que estou com alguém que salvou a minha vida e que (por obrigação dele mesmo) garantiu meus remédios grátis do SUS, mas é triste que eles não tenham a tradição do natal.... Espero que tenham esse ano.

Me sinto numa estafa carrolliana, eu acho que passei por isso de 2018 a 2019, isso me preocupa um pouco, me recuso acreditar que é pelo menino Timmy, ano que vem eu vou ver se começo uma pós e aí isso muda um pouco, ano que vem muitas coisas maravilhosas podem acontecer.

Espero que esteja se divertindo na nova casa e não deixa o Robert muito tempo naquela sauna.

Estou com saudades, mas prometo que vou escrever mais. Da sua queria amiga

Gabriela Jakeline Varilovisky Pérez

#carta #letter #fanfic #lewis carroll #carrollian #charles dodgson #fiction #adivinha quem me notou no instagram #o rei mandou a effie voltar para o lugar onde não se limpam sangue do chão e menino falou que se limpava sim #tyrone faz parte da turma #vai geral ver até os ossos #charles falou que não é canibal pq não é da nossa espécie mas que já comeu gente no sentido literal #Timothée Chalamet #armie hammer #house of effie #Bones and All

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booklovershouse · 5 months

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Oi oi, booklovers!

A intenção desse post na vdd era fazer meu top 5 livros da vida, mas lembrei que fiz um post com meus livros preferidos - sim, fui catar isso lá nas profundezas do meu Tumblr, então resolvi fazer mais como um "top 5 do ano passado" 🙃

1 - Sem Coração (Marissa Meyer)

" - Eu não sou vazia. Estou cheia até a borda com assassinato e vingança. Estou transbordando, e acho que você não vai querer que eu transborde em você."

Acho que nem tem palavras pra dizer o quanto esse livro acabou comigo. E o pior é que amei mesmo assim. A história da Cath e como ela se tornou a Rainha de Copas que nós conhecemos foi super bem construída, parecia até que eu estava lá junto com eles.

Sabe, eu acredito que as escolhas que tomamos dizem como seremos no futuro e que nada depende exatamente das circunstâncias da nossa vida - afinal, teve gente que passou por coisa pior e segue feliz, ou aparenta ser feliz -, mas quem nunca sentiu que estava transbordando? Que não aguentava mais? Não dá pra julgar ela.

2 - A Biblioteca de Paris (Janet Skeslien Charles)

"Perambulei pela biblioteca para me despedir. Primeiro, a sala dos periódicos, onde tudo começou. Depois, a sala de consulta, onde aprendi tanto quanto os sócios. Depois, a Vida Após a Morte, onde passei a mão pela lombada dos livros para que eles soubessem que não seriam esquecidos. E saí da biblioteca pela última vez."

Não é apenas sobre a Segunda Guerra e livros, tem a ver com nós, seres humanos, como as coisas realmente funcionam. É como aqueles momentos na nossa vida que "cai a ficha" e você passa a enxergar as coisas como são. Aqui temos duas Odiles: uma antes da ficha e outra depois da ficha cair.

E é claro, a Lily, uma jovem descobrindo a vida - não tão bem quanto ela imaginava, suponho.

3 - O Cão dos Baskerville (Arthur Conan Doyle)

"Agora é aquele momento dramático do destino, Watson, em que se ouve um passo sobre a escada, prestes a entrar em nossa vida, mas não se sabe se é para o bem ou para o mal."

Na vdd, não li ano passado, mas estou colocando aqui pq n tem no outro post - li bem no finalzinho do ano retrasado :)

Qualquer coisa com o Sherlock é sempre uma aventura, mas O Cão dos Baskerville foi o único dos quatro livros que eu gostei kkkkkkk Lembro que quando li Um Estudo em Vermelho pela primeira vez, achei o maior tédio - hj em dia é mais nostalgia -, O Signo dos Quatro, apesar da pitada de romance, foi um pouco sem graça e O Vale do Medo eu estava amando, mas achei a segunda parte meio desnecessária 🤡

No geral, tem o mistério, o protagonismo do Watson - ter o bonito investigando sozinho pela primeira vez me deixou cheia de suspeitas, pq normalmente ele pensa as mesmas coisas que a gente e aí vem o Sherlock com uma interpretação totalmente diferente. O Arthur realmente fez bem em pegar um personagem que faz a gente se identificar como leitor e outro que nós só conseguimos admirar de longe (apesar disso, amo os contos que o Sherlock narra, vcs não têm noção do surto que eu tive quando percebi KKKKKKKKK)

4 - O Último Trem para Londres (Meg Waite Clayton)

"- Boa sorte, filho. Precisamos de escritores talentosos agora mais do que nunca."

Aqui nós temos uma duplinha maravilhosa: a garota de exatas, fã do Sherlock Holmes e o garoto de humanas, que fica feliz ao ganhar uma máquina de escrever. Não preciso nem dizer com quem me identifico, né? Kkkkkkk ficava igual o Stephan sem entender nada do q ela tava falando 🤡

Tem a Segunda Guerra em si - do ponto de vista dos judeus, de pessoas que tentavam contar o que estava acontecendo e das mulheres que tentavam salvar crianças. A Truss realmente existiu - é só vc jogar Truss Wijsmuller no Google - e a história do trem do final parece que também, lembro de ter pesquisado mas esqueci o nome.

5 - Da Mesma Cor - Geovana Fochi

"— E não é apenas nisso que a gente discorda. Você me deu tapas e eu te dei um beijo. — mordi os lábios para não sorrir, ele claramente queria outro tapa. Ou outro beijo, não tinha certeza."

Acharam que eu não ia colocar nenhum nacional, né? Kkkkkkk acharam errado!

A Grace é um pouco parecida comigo - se eu tivesse um irmão mais novo, provavelmente seria a irmã mais velha superprotetora - e o Vincent é uma gracinha, aqui temos um enemies to lovers de respeito (e um pouco inusitado, me pergunto como a autora pensou nessa história).

Bom, é isso, já tem um textão enorme kkkkkkk

🏆| Qual seu top 5?

Bjs e boas leituras <3

#livros #leitura #books & libraries #leitores #livrosderomance #books #books and reading

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