Bitches, butches, dykes, and divas
Bitches, butches, dykes, and divas
Bitches, butches, dykes, and divas
Sluts and fags united
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Tag game.
PLEASE MAKE YOUR OWN POST IF YOU WANT TO DO IT, TOO
thank you for the tag @monkey-d-momo <3 (sorry momo i somehow delved into german language stuff and politics alksdjflkasdfkfdsakjklsd)
Fav color: green
Currently reading: a novel abt eleanor roosevelt (fictionalized, wlw), i forget the title. i found at my library.
Last song: message in a bottle
Sweet/spicy/savory: savory
Currently working on: christmas presents, staying on top of excruciatingly boring real life admin stuff
Traditional or modern: ?
Fav writer: imma do this for german authors for a change!
so, definitely walter moers. (die 13 1/2 leben des käptn blaubärs, rumo und die wunder im dunkeln, die stadt der träumenden bücher, etcetc)
then i really like the swiss author corinne rufli, she has a book where different women who love women older than 70 talk about themselves and their life stories! huuuge rec!!!
the second book she's co-written is about swiss sapphic top sportswomen! i'll link it if anyone wants me to!
AND MY BEST FRIEND :D she just got her first book published some weeks ago!!!!!!
Fav dessert: this time of the year i'd say vermicelle
Fav rapper: to stay with the german thing, i'm going to name the one rapper i've ever listened to in my life: sookee
she's a german, anti fascist queer rapper and her songs SLAP. i've also met her several times when she's come to switzerland ONE TIME SHE NOTICED I'D CUT MY HAIR SINCE THE LAST TIME SHE SAW ME ALSKDJFLKJF
there's loads of songs i love by her (PLEASE COME TALK TO ME IF YOU LIKE HER, TOO), but i think the easiest gateway drug is 'queere tiere':
Fav soccer/hockey/tennis player: none.
though i will tell you a funny anecdote where an acquaintance of mine + other climate activists played tennis in the entrance hall of a swiss bank (credit suisse) for whom roger federer (famous swiss tennis player) makes advertisements to draw public attention to the bank making climate damaging investments.
they had to go before court, but were not found guilty, the judge said this was an appropriate measurement for drawing attention to very urgend climate problems! :D
i found an article on it:
Color of your bedroom: white? idk if the walls is what's asked here
Fav politician: my roomate :D
Loyalty or lust: in fic? lust over and over and over *praying hands emoji*
Pizza or pasta: pasta
Fav time period: /corny voice/ right now
Love or hate: in fic? BOTH.
Last series watched: see apple tv
Fairy or dragon: fairy
GOT or LOTR: game of thrones <3
PLEASE MAKE YOUR OWN POST IF YOU WANT TO DO IT TOO
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Banquet of Massacre.
Yan Geto x F Reader.
Synopsis: The days are blending into each other, and you just want some sort of change. But soon, you realize you have to be far more careful about what you wish for.
Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, not SFW implications, takes place five or so years before JJK 0, and violence.
Continuation of Presentiment of Massacre.
Word Count: 800.
*~*~*~*
The green obi gently tightening with each passing second stops at your words, but after a chuckle resumes, the slight anger in Geto’s voice is smaller than the width of a hair.
He continues with the loose, wide red sodes. You focus so much on your anxiety, about what the rest of your life will be, that you don’t notice the small golden details of koi on the red sleeves. You don’t even pay attention to the silk that ties your wrists together, a consequence of you attempting to squirm your way out of dinner again. Not that dinner was anything special this evening.
“You know,” His voice rises and falls like the wind. “Perhaps there are some things you shouldn’t say to the only reason you are still alive.”
With that, he pulls, much harder than before, on the ends of the sash, causing you to gasp for air for a moment or two.
“I could still feed you to one of my curses you know, or all of them at the same time, they would love to get a taste of you.”
At your desperate whines, as you attempt to claw at the ceiling with restrained hands, he lets go, and with his action, your vision blurs no longer.
He spins you around and he licks his lips.
“I-I’m sorry, Master Geto.” You might be uncertain if you mean your apology, but perhaps Geto has the answer.
Just as you are not sure if Geto forgives you, but he knows the answer for sure.
The woman sitting next to both of you on the floor holds a golden hairpin in her ragged, scarred hands. She holds the hairpin just like she held the underlayer, obi string, socks, obi, and sash. She held and currently holds them all so delicately because she did not want to lose her hands. She was your handmaiden, according to Geto, and although the two of you had never exchanged words, you knew her first name was Sookee, but her last name was of no relevance if it even existed.
Even though she was around your age, Sookee looked much older than she was because of her premature wrinkles and little white hairs sticking out of her bangs, clear signs of all the stress Geto and the rest of the people here put her through. She was an indentured servant of sorts, from what you were told, and she, like you, is often tormented by the people who live here.
You feel bad for her, whenever you hear her screams and cries, whenever she trips and breaks a porcelain teapot and gets beaten for it, or when she is too late to dress you for supper, which always causes Geto to summon a curse that is so ugly and follows her for the rest of the day and makes crude comments toward her.
There was one time that it actually bit her, and after an hour’s worth of begging, Sookee earned the right to bandage herself up.
“Monkey,” The word is bitter on his tongue and lingers in the air for far longer than either Sookee or you would have liked. “Pin.”
Although you sympathize with Sookee, your instinct urges you to prioritize your well-being before her.
“Since you are so ungrateful for the life I have given you, maybe it would be better to make you like Sookee. Would you like that, princess? To be lesser than a pauper?”
You deeply repent for uttering a single word, which emerges from your lips with complete despair. Meanwhile, Geto wears a smile as he delicately places the luxurious golden hairpin, worth more than your two kidneys combined, into your hair. With a dismissive gesture and a piercing look, he sends Sookee away, and she quietly shuts the door behind her.
You don’t stop him from pushing you onto the bed, large enough for at least five people to rest on, because really is there anything you can do? “You’re so pretty. The loveliest one, the only one worthy of what I am about to do.”
You are trapped here, forever bound by him. The door is guarded by a terrifying curse that ensures your confinement, although Geto's power makes it unnecessary. You find yourself in this place, adorned in the kimono he compelled you to wear, lying in his bed, with the makeup Sookee was forced to apply on you. And here you are, hearing his whispered words of affection as he lies upon you.
“Since you are so ungrateful for what you already have, I will give you more and more, my love, until you regret ever wishing for a life outside of this one.”
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