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thecandywrites · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 9- 69

Still trying to play catch up. This time pulling from my Regency Era Orc story Blood for Gold. Which is basically Bridgerton Orc style with several twists. Anyway. Meet Duke and Duchess Voyambi. Aka Demsey Voyambi and his wife, Duchess Audravienne Voyambi. Taking a night on the town, while thier toddler sleeps at home. And they get a break and have a Regency Era date night. That puts them right back at The Red Velvet Rope. Which is a high end Regency Era casino/ whorehouse.

Again, a million thanks to @starsandskies for her kinktober prompts. It's literally the only thing getting me through this month mentally. As a form of self care. Yes. Self indulgent self care.

Kinktober Day 9- 69

“Demsey Darling?” You called once you got ready as he was finishing up some last minute business in his office before he sent it back to the factory.

“Yes Audra Dearest?” He answered back.

“Kadota just went down for bed. We must hurry if we are to catch the fight.” You urged him as you left your son’s nursery since he was past his weaning stage and was thankfully sleeping so peacefully.

But tonight was special because you were going to go to a proper boxing fight where the common folk and gentry alike could go, but tonight, most of the gentry was at some party or ball by someone else as you and Demsey used the excuse of your son to not go. Which meant you could go incognito and not be recognized as the future Duke and Duchess Voyambi. Since those titles were currently held by his parents. But you were happy to be Lord and Lady Voyambi in the meantime.

However, tonight you would not being going out as Lord and Lady but rather simply Mr. and Mrs. Draft. unintentional assumed names you gave each other while you secretly courted each other.

“Yes, I’m ready.” He readily answered just to come in to see his toddler son sleeping like an angel. Even though the terrible twos had already come upon him and you feared how the terrifying threes were going to go. Especially once he could learn and understand that you had his little sibling already on the way. But you were still early enough in the pregnancy to go out in public and not be “unseemly”, at least in London's High Society.

But you smiled when Demsey still took a moment to kiss Kadota on the crown of his head and give his curly head of hair a few affectionate pets before he took your arm and you took one of the lesser grand carriages while you were happy to be rather simply dressed as was he. It was your first real attempt to go out as “Mr. and Mrs. Draft” since coming back from Dorierra. But you were itching to get out of the near suffocating social circles, and because of your pregnancy, you now forewent Kamboda training, just to be careful but you were already needing something exciting to watch as you patiently waited for your pregnancy to progress.

Your driver dropped you both off only a few feet from the building that the fighting would be taking place in as you readily grabbed some refreshments, a small meat pie- from one of the vendors as Demsey got you some good seats before you were approached by a familiar face.

“Well it’s always a pleasure to see you. Are you here as the Violet…” He began since he was also one of the betting rings many associates that were always used for the Kamboda battles held at Whydahh.

“No, we’re here simply as Mr. and Mrs. Draft tonight, we wish to keep an air of anonymity. But we do have a wager.” You interrupted him before he could finish that sentence because the last thing you wanted was to be pulled into the ring yourself. Since you were the official undefeated Kamboda Champion in all of England at the moment. But because of your pregnancy, you needed him to stay discreet.

“Well as we stand, the odds are in the defending champion's favor.” He offered.

“Well you know me. I’m always a rooter for the underdog. Twenty quid on the underdog then.” You offered as you readily handed the hefty note over to him.

“Of course Mrs. Draft.” He readily grinned as he took it and pocketed such a valuable bill.

“And you Mr. Draft?” He asked Demsey.

“The same.” Demsey readily pulled the bill out of his billfold and handed it over to him as well.

“Yes Sir. Best of luck to your wagers.” He offered before he went to the other newcomers to get their wagers, granted ones that were much less than what you and Demsey offered before you both dug into the refreshments as you watched the two go through the pre fight preparations.

“So, I have a second bet for you, My Love.” You cooed in Demsey’s ear.

“And what is that?” Demsey asked.

“If the underdog wins, we take that money and do something incredibly self indulgent with it. And if the champion wins, we’ll come back here as Lord and Lady Voyambi and bet on him proper. I would think a hundred pound note should do it, don’t you think?” You offered.

“Well that depends on what the self indulgent thing is.” He answered as he gave you a curious look and that mischievous grin you wore on your lips and the gleam in your eye making him want to haul you off and fuck you right under the very stands you were sitting on.

“If the underdog wins, We could spend the winnings renting a room at the Red Velvet Rope, just like old times.” You purred into his ear and he fought not to immediately cream his pants and grateful to have something in his lap to hide his erection.

“I don’t care who wins or loses then, we might as well just go right now.” Demsey insisted.

“Oh stop. Let’s watch a good fight. Then we can have a battle of our own later.” You winked at him.

You watched as the boxers put up a good fight but the champion- once again prevailed.

“Well it seems we should get back Demsey Darling.” You urged him as you tried to stand but his hold around your waist kept you from getting up.

“While I would still like to honor the previous agreement. I want a taste of the old times anyway.” Demsey insisted which got a bright smile to bloom on your face before he got up with you and you both got into the carriage before he told his driver exactly where to take the both of you.

The Red Velvet Rope.

And the whole way there, it seemed he wanted to start the “celebration” early. You were straddling his lap and grinding down onto him while kissing him deeply. While his touches as he held and petted you, still revealed his reverence, also betrayed his still almost unquenchable lust for you all the same. The carriage was barely stopped before he got out and carefully helped you down before you both quickly entered the establishment, straight to the Abess’ counter and rented a suite and ordered a late dinner to be brought up before you both gleefully climbed the stairs to the suite, got the proper ‘do not disturb unless for food’ pillow around the handle of the door.

Then it was a flurry of hands undoing the layers of dress both of you were wearing before Demsey used his stronger strength to pull you to sit on his face as you held onto the headboard and braced yourself against it. Especially since Demsey’s oral skills had improved by leaps and bounds. Your first orgasm came quickly and your moura marks glowed like a bright fire all over your skin. Because it had been a little while since he had pleasured you this way but you were not about to receive such great pleasure without returning it.

So you rolled over and laid down over his chest and belly before you began to take his length into your mouth and on your own very highly skilled tongue. Before you managed to take all of his gloriously amazing cock down your throat that led to your stomach while the smaller throat that fed your lungs just through your nose so you could continue to breathe normally. Like a snake with their epiglottis. Which was something Demsey adored about your moura heritage.

You used your grip on his thighs while Dempsey used his own grip on your ass to keep your sex still at his own mouth while you used your position to run Demsey’s cock down your mouth and throat while your own saliva and his own precum practically coated your mouth and throat. Gaining speed and momentum with each push and pull.

And it wasn’t until Dempsey moved one of his hands from your ass to the back of your head to push it down so that your nose was nestled in the forrest of hair between his cock and his own balls while your lips wrapped around the base as you felt his cock throb while rope after rope of seed spilled into your stomach.

Your hands pillowed themselves between his own glorious ass and the bedd as he sucked so hard on your clit you came at nearly the same time as your pelvis’ both grinded just a bit into the other’s faces to ride out the orgasm before you both went lax.

Demsey began to scratch from your head down your back appreciatively before you slowly got your hands from between his own ass and the bed an used your hands to pull yourself up, his now softened cock being pulled from your throat as you sat up onto his upper chest before the head came back into your mouth from your throat before you gave it a few last sucks to make sure you got every drop of seed from him before he smacked your ass just as the last few got him to be over stimulated which earned a little gigle from you before you let the head fall from your mouth ans the rest of his cock practically fell and bounced off his belly.

“Fuck, we need to do this more often. Like making love to you is always amazing and epic, don’t get me wrong. But coming back here, where it all began…” Demsey appraised.

“Gives it that forbidden fruit aspect and make you feel like you’re giving into your base desires and doing something you know is wrong but feels so right?” You cooed as you got off of him only to snuggle into his side and kiss him sweetly.

“Something like that. But also the happiness knowing that the only woman in the world who could ever fuck me into oblivion and the woman who could love me wholly and completely and remind me to keep my priorities straight are all in one being, helps too.” Demsey praised.

“Aww. And having a husband who doesn’t judge me based on my so good it’s practically sinful sexual prowress while respecting and dignifying me both as a champion and a lover, and most importantly as a wife all at the same time is just as wonderful.” You cooed just before there was a polite knock at the door.

Demsey practically bounded up out of bed and threw the sheets and blankets over you to cover you upyto keep you modest before he put on the robe and grabbed his wallet to tip whoever came to drop off the platter of dishes before he openned the door just wide enough to get the platter and then shut it with his foot so he could then take it to the small table in the room before you slipped through the bedding to get a robe on yourself before you sat across his lap to enjoy the literal feast before you would feast on each other again.

“Just like old times.” You sighed dreamily as you dug into the food you ordered.

“Just like old times, but better.” Demsey appraised as he used one arm to wrap around your back to hold you comfortably in his lap while he ate with the other while he watched as your moura marks were still glittering with happiness and excitement.

#Kinktober #Kinktober 2022 #starsandskieskinktober #Kinktober Day 9 #Blood For Gold #Regency Era Orc Period Drama #Orc husband #Orc husband x moura wife

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zoi-no-miko · 1 year

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I started reading 'A Lady for a Duke' last night and now I'm having EXTRA Regency feels

#regency orcs #fancy orcs #UGH YES

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stilljumpingback · 1 year

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Queer Charity Event and Silent Auction

On Saturday, March 4th, we’re celebrating Roar Cat Reads’ 2nd anniversary by hosting our fourth queer-led online charity event to raise $2,000 for Prism Collective, a Rainbow Refugee Circle of Hope. With TTRPG sessions, video game streaming and a silent auction, there are many ways you help us raise money for a good cause!

Rainbow Refugee is a non-profit organization based in Vancouver, BC. They support people seeking refugee protection in Canada due to persecution based on sexual orientation, gender identity, gender expression, or HIV status. Roar Cat Reads is raising money for Prism Collective, a small group who are raising $25,000 to help one LGBTQ+ refugee move to Vancouver.

Donate: https://www.canadahelps.org/en/pages/queer-nerdy-streamathon/

Silent Auction: https://www.32auctions.com/roarcat2023

Watch: https://www.twitch.tv/roarcatreads

More Info: https://roarcatreads.com/charityevent/

#ttrpg #streaming #charity event #big gay orcs #fishblade #regency ladies #rainbow refugee #queer charity #silent auction #gay and nerdy #queer nerd

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momolady · 3 months

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Art the Orc

If you live in a small town, maybe you'll know this place. It's a little art store run by the same family for ages. It's not changed in all that time either. Picture it, feel it, you know it's the only place that sells that one supply you like. Now, imagine an orc behind the counter. Female Reader x Male Monster

The visage of the old place looked like it had once been a gas station. There was one of those big metal awnings and signs that gas pumps had once been outside. But everything else looked like the art supply store it was. The window was painted, done up with flowers and a flourishing font, but it hadn’t been touched in ages and was chipping and weathering away.

The old place had seen better days, you could tell. But you were excited to tackle such a special project with your own two hands.

Inside the place had a familiar smell of paint thinner, book pages, and coffee. You looked around the front as the bells on the door chimed. The old floor had seen better days and was worn out where you stood, even the welcome mat was hard to read.

“Welcome to Greengold Creative Station,” the deep voice came from behind the front desk where there was an open door. ‘I’ll be out with you in just a moment.”

“Take your time,” you replied. You continued to look around, noting the mismatched shelving and thrown together renovations dotting the place.

A moment later, a large orc came from the back. He was wearing thick glasses and had on a corded cardigan that covered a paint splattered t-shirt.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked as he adjusted his glasses.

You approached the front desk again, extending your hand to him. “Hi! You must be Mr. Greengold, I’m from Regency Renovations.”

There was a surprised look upon his face as he shook your hand. “You’re the renovator?”

You smiled, half expecting some reservation based on your appearance. “I specialize in business and storefront renovations. That is what you wanted, correct, Mr. Greengold?”

He fumbled with his words for a moment, stuttering, touching his glasses until he spoke. “Call me Art, please.”

You held it in, but he knew where your mind went.

“It’s short for Arthur, but it's also my dad’s name so my mom calls me Art. Yes, I know, ha ha, very fun. A man named Art runs the art store.”

“It’s an easy target.” You tried to squash your giggling but a few came out.

He sighed and shook his head. “So, you’ll be handling the whole store. I want it updated completely. It was fine for my parents, but I need to bring in a new generation of artists and online shopping is destroying us.”

“It’s a common issue, Art,” you didn’t look at him as you said his name. “I already have some ideas brewing and I would be happy to discuss your thoughts for the business with you.”

He sighed heavily, gazing out at a store that was once his family’s legacy. “I would say I would like to keep some of what my parents did to this place, but I don’t think any of it is salvageable.”

“Well recycling is a thing.” You replied. “Like some of these old shelves, the wood can be reused to create a rustic facade for the front desk here.” You patted the worn out formica top. “And the vintage signage out from can be reused and framed, hung just right behind you there.”

Art made a face. “You can do all that.”

You returned his face, adding a smug smile to it. “I can do lots of things, Art. My father was a carpenter and my mother was a viper. Be careful of what you inflict about me.” You patted your chest proudly. You knew you were small and chubby, not many people expected much out of you, but your work spoke for itself. And that was how you told people off.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I have a lot riding on this so-”

“So you hired the best. That I can promise you. Now I know you said you didn’t have a lot of funds, but I already have my plans made for how to help you with that. I plan on doing most of the work on my own, but for heavy lifting and other things-”

“I don’t mind helping with that,” he said with a shake of his head.

You had planned to bring in your brother for help, he enjoyed the destruction part of your job and he worked for free food. “Well uh…if you’d like Art, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t want you getting hurt on the job. It would be best if I helped out,” he said.

You couldn’t tell if he was being kind or underestimating you again, so you brushed it off and continued. “I would also like to film the process of the renovation. Stuff like that will help reach your new audience.”

He frowned, and his thick brows pinched together. “You must be joking.”

“I am not. You’d be surprised what the kids these days are watching.” You smirked up at him. “I know what I am doing, Art. Have some faith.”

His face read: easier said than done.

Discussion and planning was always the hard bit. You had to convince your employer of what needed to be done. Art was hesitant about some things, after all it was a family business and a place he had grown up in. But for the most part he was willing to go along with some of your ideas.

Art started the clean up process by first putting away his stock and setting most of the mismatched shelves outside. Once that was taken care of you began ripping up the old carpet and ancient linoleum.

“I remember when my dad put that stuff down,” Art said from behind you.

You looked up, eyes covered by goggles and mouth surrounded by one of those thick industrial masks. “Oh really?”

Art gave you a look. “Is all that necessary?”

“You’d be surprised.” You stacked another chunk of the linoleum to the side. “Lots of debris and who-knows-what is under these old floors. Decades of dirty shoes, dust, skin, and life are stored here.”

Art’s grimace deepened. “Skin?”

“Oh yeah, we shed like mad,” you laughed. “If you have dust in your house you can be assured it came from you!”

Art looked perturbed by this revelation but he continued in moving stock to the back and other store property outside.

Once the flooring was removed, you accessed what was underneath. It wasn’t marble or granite, but it was some type of stony tile that had existed when it was a gas station.

“Mom said it was inhospitable.”

You used a dust cloth to clean off a bit of the flooring. “But it’s easy to clean, and it’ll make the whole place appear brighter and bigger.” You turned and looked back at him, taking off the goggles. “It’ll be so much better in the long run. Plus! You won’t have to buy anything new except maybe a rug or two if you wanted.”

Art’s pinched brow was becoming the norm to see, but you could tell it was because the gears behind it were working so hard to process everything going on.

Once the tiles were cleaned and all the old flooring was hauled off to the dump, you started working on the walls, taking down slapdash shelving, and anything else hanging up. The old paint job, or jobs really, were layered on so thick and hadn’t been properly done. They had painted over the trim and electrical outlets, all of which needed to be replaced. The holes in the walls needed fixing too, and there were a few dents and scrapes from the years.

“You’re not hiring a painter?” Art asked one day.

You zipped up your coveralls and turned around to face him. “Not unless you want to shell out twice the money. Besides, I’m a good painter. A great painter even! Maybe not Rembrandt or anything, but I can handle a roller better than most.”

Art looked over your paint supplies. After days of you working on freeing the electric sockets and scraping the excess from the trim you could finally start working. You were painting the wall white, but you had found cheap sticker tiles to create a great accent wall, which could then be used for photo opportunities and special displays. Then another wall would also be painted white and used to display local artists and projects from the art class that Art taught.

“Mom always wanted to put wallpaper up,” Art murmured. “But said it wouldn’t be practical with everything we needed to hang up.”

There was a melancholy to Art’s face and tone as he said this. “What kind?” You asked as you poured your paint into the tray. “We could always find something close to what she had in mind for the office.”

Art glanced over his shoulder then shook his head. “I doubt I could afford it. I tried looking already.”

You put the roller into the paint, sliding it back and forth until it wasn’t too soupy. “Was this place your mom’s idea?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze going all about the store. “I can’t believe how empty it is now.”

“It’ll be full again in no time.” You gave him a reassuring smile when his amber eyes returned to you. “Do you have any pictures of your mother you would want to hang up?” you asked. “I can plan a special place for it.”

He huffed, seeming put off by this suggestion. “Excuse me. The smell of this paint is giving me a headache.” He walked off, stomping his feet a little as he went.

Art came back by the time you were finished with the first coat of white. You were sitting in front of the checkout desk, leaned back against it so your foot propped the door open. He stepped over your leg and looked at your work.

“The white really makes this place look…different,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, there will be some color back soon enough,” you sighed. “Is your headache gone?”

Art nodded, leaning against the desk. “Sorry if I’ve been…obstinate.”

You waved it off. “I’m used to you.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been questioning and judging everything, all because I never really wanted to do this.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Then why are you?”

He let out that heavy, burdened sigh again. “Because it was in her will.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh.”

“She left me money, but only if I used a portion of it to renovate the old store. She said it was mine after all, it deserved to reflect the new generation. Even in death she was still hinting I get married.” He scoffed at this, but he still had a smile on his face.

“Sounds pretty motherly.” You stood up from the ground, standing beside him. Not feeling much taller than you did sitting beside his great size. You motioned to the front window. “Did she paint that?”

Art laughed. “No. I did. That’s why she kept it so long.”

Your smile beamed. “Really? That’s pretty adorable.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “For years upon years I’ve looked at that painting and wished every day she would wash it off and do something different. But I suppose her sentimentality was far too deep for that.”

“It’s a good painting,” you offered.

“I never thought she’d keep it so I barely tried,” he grunted and crossed his arms against his chest. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Would you like to paint the new display? I was planning on just hanging a new sign and leaving the window clean.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

You patted his arm, and his eyes darted down to your hand, his brows unpinching for that one moment.

“I’ll wait till you decide then.” You stepped away from him, but his eyes still lingered on where you had touched him.

A few days later, as you were working on putting the sticker tile onto the wall, Art came from the back and offered you a ticket.

“A friend of mine has a gallery showing tonight. He gave me two tickets so I thought-” He hesitated and cleared his throat.

“How fancy is the affair?” You asked.

“Nothing too fancy. I mean, dress up, but not like black tie event or anything.” He cleared his throat again. “I was going to get dinner at my favorite restaurant since it was close by if you wanted to come.”

It clicked and you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed and your mouth started to go dry. “Oh. Sure.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “If that’s the case, maybe we should go in together. You know? Save the earth and stuff.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Smart idea. How about I pick you up tonight. Say…around six? Since the gallery is at eight?”

You nodded, biting down on your lip. “Yeah. Perfect. That should give me enough time to get ready after work.”

Art turned awkwardly away then back towards you. “Oh I uh, I guess I should get your address.” You traded info and the rest of the day went by in a jerky, tense sort of way.

That evening you waited in your living room until you heard from Art. You were wearing your favorite dress, and had even gotten your next door neighbor to do your makeup. You got his message and went downstairs to meet him at the front door.

Art was dressed nice in a dark purple suit and he had his long hair slicked back and tied into a bun. He didn’t have on his glasses, which surprised you. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Wow, you look great!” He said, a touch breathless.

You blushed and smiled. “Thanks. You look pretty great too. I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses.”

“Yeah, contacts tonight,” he said shyly. He then took your hand and led you to his car.

The restaurant was nice, the two of you had a clumsy start to it, but eventually you both started having an in depth conversation about color. From there, you both laughed and joked around, having a good time with great food and even better wine.

From there you walked to the gallery, meeting his friend then roaming through the show. Her artwork was lovely, but you noticed Art’s pinch brow had returned.

“A lot more nudes than I expected,” he whispered.

“I think it’s nice,” you replied. “I can see what her intent with the motif is. How it’s classic, it's natural, but also subversive.” You turned to Art, noticing him fidgeting and adjusting himself.

“Yes. I understand what she is doing,” he muttered. “I must have had just a little too much wine I think.”

You smiled at him, chuckling as your cheeks grew warm.

The car windows were fogged over, and in the dark all you could do was touch. His kisses felt rough but intimate. His tusks brushed against your skin, making your shiver. Every so often the darkness was halted by the motion light of the parking lot turning on. You’d still for a moment, then continue on with your youthful antics.

“We should stop.”

“We should.”

“Why aren’t we?”

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You kissed Art and breathed, looking into his eyes while you clasped your hands around his face. Maybe it was the wine or the nudes on display, maybe it was weeks of working so close and holding back so long.

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You smiled at him, kissing him again while his hands moved below. Your panties were pushed aside, his zipper brushed against your thigh. Big. Oh my god it was big!

You gasped softly and he stilled, watching your expression. You eased over him, taking as much of Art as you could stand. You pressed your palms to the roof of the car for balance, his strong hands kneaded into your thick thighs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for this?” he breathed.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” Your laughter turned into moaning. Maybe you were both a bit too old for this, but you’d never had so much fun before! He pressed deeply inside you, and his hands couldn’t stop touching your body. He roamed over the soft curves, and plump form, his desire seeming to grow the more he did.

The next morning you came into work, seeing Art standing in the middle of the room. You held your breath, wondering if it was all a wonderful dream. He turned and smiled, his thick glasses back in place.

“Hi” he said breathlessly.

Your smile bloomed. “Hi.”

Art motioned to the desk. “I brought coffee.”

“I see that.” You smiled and took a cup he offered.

He sighed then laughed and you laughed. “So uh…last night.”

“I liked your friend’s gallery. It was very nice. I also liked your favorite restaurant.” You took a sip of the coffee, testing it before you added anything.

Art nodded, his gaze drifted until it fell back onto you. “Is that all?”

You smiled over your coffee cup. “No. Just barely.” You looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate work topic.”

“Not exactly but uhm…I just wanted to check.” His eyes darted over you. “Were we really too old for that?”

You laughed and cupped your hand over your mouth. “A little. But I’m not too sore. Are you?”

“No. But I would prefer somewhere much comfier next time.” he leaned in close and you closed your eyes, accepting his kiss and the touch of his tusks against your cheeks.

“Yes, it would be nice.” You saw he had paints and brushes set on the front desk. “What’s this for?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I thought I’d paint the window. I got a bit of inspiration last night.” He grinned your way. “Plus, I think mom would like to see how I’ve improved.”

You grinned. “I’ll be very excited to see how you work. Outside a car at least.”

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shiraglassman · 1 year

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books i owe reviews to

I am behind on Stuff but here are some books I read recently that I liked

Lavender House 1950′s queer noir. Gay cop gets fired for being gay and ends up a hard boiled PI solving one of those Rich Household Murders when the head of a soapmaking fortune falls to her death. Has TW’s but a happy ending for the MC, who sounds like Batman in the audiobook.

Legends and Lattes Orc retires from adventuring and opens a coffeehouse in a city that’s never heard of coffee (which is its own kind of funny.) She accidentally found-families herself because of course she does, and it’s got f/f in it.

A Gentleman in Moscow Smartass elegant aristocrat is sentenced to permanent house arrest in a hotel when the communists take over in Russia 100ish years ago. Book describes the next several decades of his life and all the adventures you can get up to in a small space, which are: plenty. Surprise, like the previous one this also has restaurant stuff in it so I felt very Seen by the person who recommended it to me. Has m/f in it.

A Lady for a Duke Regency m/f romance. Heroine was thought dead on the battlefield in Waterloo but instead, she’s nursed back to health in a cottage and takes the opportunity to quietly transition and return home to become the “poor companion” to her brother’s wife. Problem: her old best friend, who has a lot of Waterloo trauma himself, is at the end of his rope. He does lash out when he figures out his new love is his old lost friend, but it’s 100% selfishness not transphobia (”how could you let me think you were dead”) and there is more than enough space in the story for him to redeem himself. Just wanted to make sure y’all knew that was in there.

I also read Project Hail Mary ages ago and that was really cute. I LOVED the ending bc it was more than I was expecting by that point. I went in nearly completely cold and that’s why I’m not describing the plot, just that someone I trusted said that they thought I’d like it. So I’m gonna let that be the spoiler: that it was ultimately cozy enough for the likes of me. :P

#booklr #lavender house #project hail mary #legends and lattes #a lady for a duke #a gentleman in moscow #books #reading #queer books #romance #trans books #trans romance #orcs #noir

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wormwoodandhoney · 9 months

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heey laura!! may i ask/request you books that "warm the heart" bc the world is so chaotic that i need a getaway, like asap hehehe or a cozy vibes, kindness, you know?? *sighs* i need that hehe

absolutely!! i ADORE cozy, so this will actually be hard to narrow down. i'm not sure what genre of cozy you want, because cozy transcends genre, so here's a little bit of everything! if there's a specific genre you want, let me know!

fantasy & sci fi

the very secret society of irregular witches by sangu mandanna is one of my all time favorite books. about a lonely witch who is hired by a found family to teach their three young witches.

legends & lattes by travis baldree is the definitive cozy fantasy, about an orc who opens a coffee shop. very little plot, mostly vibes.

a proper dragon by eb wheeler is a regency fantasy romance with dragons.

a psalm for the wild-built and it's sequel by becky chambers is about a tea monk who meets a robot looking for the answer to the question "what does humanity need?"

romance

the banned bookshop of maggie banks by shauna robinson in which maggie agrees to help a friend run her bookshop in a small town dedicated to a historical author, in which the town's rules only allows books by this historical author or his contemporaries to be sold. maggie starts a secret, underground book club. maggie herself learns to love reading when she makes a deal with the handsome town grumpy man, who agrees to step out of his comfort zone if she reads his recommendations.

the neighbor favor by kristina forest is about a shy bookworm who asks her handsome neighbor for dating advice, not realizing he is the author she's been anonymously emailing.

you should see me in a crown by leah johnson is about a teen girl who reluctantly joins the race for prom queen in order to get a scholarship, and begins to fall for another girl in the competition.

the miniscule mansion of myra malone by audrey burges is about an agoraphobic woman who blogs about the creation of her beautiful dollhouse, only to get a confused email from a young man who lives in an exact, real-life replica of the dollhouse.

general fiction

someone else's shoes by jojo moyes is about two very different women who accidentally switch bags (and some very important shoes).

a man called ove by frederick backman is about a very grumpy old man who reluctantly befriends his new, chatty neighbors.

remarkably bright creatures by shelby van pelt is about a grumpy old octopus who reluctantly befriends his new, chatty human janitor.

i'm gonna stop there, but if you want more cozy genres (mystery, the controversial concept of "cozy horror", or i could even see if i could get cozy nonfiction), hit me up!

#book recs #cozy #cozy boks #books

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gatheringbones · 10 months

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i have a question that I've been trying to puzzle out the answer for -- I've noticed that some speculative fiction takes a queer is normal approach because "in the future or since there's aliens! and werewolves! who has the time to question gender?" kind of mindset. as much as I treasure the thought of a future where different phobias aren't a thing, and I don't want to be someone who take too much pride and ego in the suffering (perhaps not the right word) I've been through and survived, it also makes me feel strange in that kind of mindset that, of course there's lesbians and trans people in space! without any homophobia whatsoever. my question is, do you think queernorm is possible in a good way in speculative fiction in a setting where it's so far in the future where idk. teleportation or cloning or body modification or cyborgs exist? regency/historical/fantasy novels tend to be set "in the past" and erasing the colonialism, the racism/xenophobia, not questioning why it's ok to murder orcs/an acceptable group of people, and then suddenly having Gays Are Perfectly Fine and Acceptable is definitely weird, considering all these other biases. But what of scifi? Sorry I'm not as concise and cohesive as I wish I was. I'm in a spot where I do read these and I do think it's fun, but it bothers me as someone whose race/transgender/homosexuality/background as an immigrant has informed so much of me that reading these things has been a war of "I should be happy for others that they imagine this future for themselves and it's all just fun imagination anyways!" vs. "this is not the future I'm sure that I want but I'm worried that I'm too attached to my identity and that's why I'm not considering this other possibility of what science fiction or speculative fiction could imagine for me"

that’s it exactly isn’t it— what’s “normal” when we’re in a speculative world where we’ve supposedly transcended all forms of normal? what’s normal in a future we haven’t seen yet?

answering that would mean looking at the quality of the relationships and the dynamics between the people inside of them and seeing how they connect to present day conceptions of normative behavior. You would have to look at how this comforting speculative world arranges power and the relationships between people with various forms of power.

in assimilationist fiction, queer people assume very specific positions in the story. Their existence summons and soothes specific anxieties crucial to the assimilationist mind— will my straight parents accept me? will my straight friends and acquaintances accept me? am I normal? is the way I love valid? Do I have to change anything about myself just because I’m (cringe) queer? can I go on about my life as a normal person who just happens to be (cringe) queer? will I be able to achieve the standard and normal markers of success for a white, upper-to-middle class, able-bodied person even though I’m (cringe) queer?

the assimilationist story will take these anxieties in hand and address them with the goal of seamlessly incorporating queerness into a heteronormative story structure with functionally no difference between queer and straight (which has the effect of making everyone seem incredibly straight).

I hear you on the taking too much pride and ego in suffering, but I want to poke at that as well— is queer difference really rooted in suffering? are our identities nothing more than wound sites? what IS queer difference and how and why must it be assimilated into heteronormativity and its stranglehold on culture? how does heteronormativity manifest in queer works and what needs does it fill for the queer creator manifesting it? what is it about heteronormativity that feels so so reassuring and interesting and good for queer writers?

it all depends on what the werewolves and aliens in your sci fi are doing, in other words— and who they’re doing it to and why. It depends on what anxieties are present in the text and how the text itself chooses to address them. It depends on the author’s relationship to queer culture and how they relate to cultural norms to begin with, because there won’t be anything like our set of norms in a speculative futuristic world, so the whole question revolves around what is purported to be normal and how the people in that world are meant to relate to that paradigm.

it’s tricky! I don’t have answers, just a whole heap of books written by queer authors who just want to fit in and make money you couldn’t pay me to read.

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