It's Hard To Be The Coolest Cousin Who Is Mentally Ill, Touch Starved, Annoying And Reads A Lot, Has

"Someone told me these days that when I'm with her, all we do is eat. Maybe it's because I was poor as a kid. So poor that I had no zest for life. And even now, I feel that being able to be fed in various ways is the happiest thing in the world."

Lin Yi Yang

Amidst a Snowstorm of Love (2024 Chinese Drama)

Hey, guys. So I work at a bookshop close to a Islamic comunity and with the holidays we have been selling lots of christmas books (especially for children), but we have none on other religions. We have 2, I believe, on jewish but none on their holidays. A lot of mothers come looking for children books on Ramadan and others but I have nothing to offer.

I googled a little but didn't find much. Does anyone know any good Islamic children books? Especialy for the holidays?

Daniel Molloy has never been more relatable than when he visibly has the slow-sinking realization "Oh no, this man is about to forgive his boyfriend for all of it"

Jolene: A ballad

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I’m begging of you please don’t kill that man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don’t kill him even though you can Killers on a vile quest Are gathered at the king’s behest To slay the dreaded lich they call Jolene Their blades will strike at all undead And gleefully they’d take your head Oh how I would mourn for thee Jolene Your power it is beyond compare Devouring souls without a care With magiks beyond that of any queen Your eyes burn with the fires of hell a force they can never hope to quell non can er’ compare with you Jolene Your visage haunts my soundest sleep There’s nothing they can do to keep My undead heart from crying out Jolene And I can easily understand That you could conquer any land but you don’t know what you do to me Jolene Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I’m begging of you please just take my hand. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Don’t try to kill them even if you can Yes you could kill a thousand men But you’d never find peace again One lucky blow is all it takes Jolene And so I come to plead anew My happiness depends on you And on what’er you choose to do Jolene Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I’m begging of you please just take my hand. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Don’t try to fight them even though you can

I'd very much like to punch a feminist.

I’d never, ever hurt a lady but I’d be happy to punch a feminist. It’d bring me great joy.

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Stellar collision

The Western horizon was on fire: hot pink turned into mauve, wild orange into gold, the bright colours fading into paleness, then darkness. It was the day they whisper their vows before the gods, both Raven and Damian believed that love was not what stood at the foundation of their pledge, at least not the kind that fate had in store for them. No, that’s what they want to believe, what truly mattered most at this point was peace, peace through political marriage rather than an overwhelming affection. Peace. Damian, the youngest son of King Bruce and the noblest of all of Gotham’s princes, living or dead. As King Bruce was only left with Damian and Richard. Raven, a demigod, sired by Trigon the Terrible and mortal Arella.

The fragile truce between Gotham and Azarath balanced on the tip of a blade, depending on this union of convenience. Kon-El, former suitor, was wearing a scowl that would freeze unquenchable fire from the House of Hades. She could feel Trigon’s dark eyes burning into her face, the harsh, singeing heat of a desert behind it. She wanted to run, but she was also afraid of him giving chase. What was the point anyway. Before coming to Gotham, she knew how to fly, wings spread wide, flying away, her shoulders have borne heavy burdens, heavy burdens of solid stone. On how she prayed to fly away from them, and roam the freedom of the sky, but her father had cut off both her wings and left her rooted to the ground. There would no longer mountain's peaks with the promise of wondrous views to keep. It all came to an end the day her father told she had been promised to Damian, prince of Gotham, the great, Gotham the glorious, Gotham the magnificent. She should be honored, but her thoughts and feelings on the matter were inconsequential as the advice of a woman in wartime.

A week later she found herself at her wedding feast. Brothers and sisters her husband had in plenty, raised to be warriors they fought during war to lose their short lives. Jason, Helena and Timotheos had fallen. She only met her husband her wedding day. He was reserved but polite and not overly perfumed, and when her eyes fell on him she thought of Narcissus. Narcissus, who had been unable to pull away from his own reflection in the pond, enchanted by his own beauty until death claimed him. Although the way her tutor had prattled on and on about Damian’s innumerable virtues, Raven had not expected him to be as radiant as a god. The sun-kissed skin stretched to wrap around muscles built from years of practicing complex military skills, broad shoulders and powerful arms, movements of disconcerting grace for one so large. His facial features had a frank and honest quality to them, bright and deep-set eyes, as green as spring leaves with the touch of Persephone, a Greek nose, full lips. Indeed he could be called a god. Reluctantly, tore her gaze from his beautiful face despite the beet-red blush spreading over her cheeks. She focused on her new family.

Sorry not sorry I’ve been reading a lot about Greek mythology and I couldn’t help but write a damirae smut. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ im working on it. Let me know if you like it.

@ravenfan1242 @chromium7sky @kallura-juniblade @shewhowillnotbenamed1 @tweepunkgrl

they’re my family alex

alright maybe but you’re mine

This season is my absolute favorite

nailed it season 4 is out y’all