Hi! I’m Sara and I’m an adult. My pronouns are they/he/she and I’m non-binary.
Requests: open
Last updated: 08-10-2022
I love whoever writes the album descriptions for Apple Music cuz like. They write long impassioned descriptions for the albums, talking about the music, the lyrics and about it's impact in the industry or on the artist's legacy. And then sometimes it's one sentence that says basically nothing, like "idk man it's a fucking album i guess"
Example one
Example two
To be fair, like, yeah I wouldn't know what to say about it either.
To be fair, like, yeah
I wouldn’t know what to say
about it either.
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
Pairing: Ada x Reader (femme)
Summary: Ada and Reader meet working at the library. The 1920′s gays amirite ladies?
Length: 2017 words (allegedly)
Warnings: None.
A/N: Wow, she’s finally here and queer and ready to party. I went back in to edit this to be shorter and made it like 500 words longer so… yeah. Also, this piece, like all of my work will not feature violence or shaming of marginalized communities because there’s enough of that in the real world. Use your suspension of disbelief to believe in tolerance.
—
Ada.
Your first impression of her was a reflection of your hope that she wasn’t a chatty girl come to London for the excitement, only using the library job to pay for nights out. You thought she was someone to be wary of, but lovely nonetheless.
Your position in the library was a godsend. As your grandmother once scolded you for, you often enjoyed the world you’d built in your head a bit more than what was around you. For Ada, her position seemed to be a godsend for the exact opposite reason. She enjoyed meeting new people and quietly discussing social issues in the corner. Many loved her, and many were skeptical. Mostly the men, like Patrick in the archives, who said she was a gangster and a communist.
You didn’t have the opportunity to confirm nor deny rumors as your shifts and breaks never aligned in a way where you could do more than smile softly in passing. It wasn’t until the morning Ada volunteered to take over for a bedridden Margaret that you met. You put the kettle on while Peter went into too much detail about the new encyclopedia.
Though Ada worked there for nearly a month, it wasn’t until you joined the conversation with your cup of tea that you truly took her in. She was beautiful- cheeks rosy and lips a delicate pink. Her skin was freckled, and you suspected it was soft as well. All of your restraint went to not reaching out and touching. Well, some of it went to deciphering the notes of her perfume without breathing her in.
Ada’s eyes flicked to yours and snapped you out of your insensibility. You could feel your own blush as you gave her a small smile. She returned it then rolled her eyes slightly, glancing towards Peter who was going on yet another know-it-all tangent. You stifled a laugh, and no sooner did she make her way over to you.
“You’re y/n aren’t you?” Her voice sounded so assured as it floated to your ears.
“I am.” You nodded. “And you’re Ada Thorne?”
“Yes, I’m new.” She confirmed it. There was a pause as you grabbed two cups. She cleared her throat slightly, then asked, “Are you also interested in encyclopedias?”
“God, no. You’d think someone surrounded by books all day would learn a thing or two about when to piss off,” you said the words without thinking. You nearly spilled the tea you were pouring when you jumped at the sound of Ada’s sudden laughter. You looked at her with wide eyes, and she shook her head. A few of your coworkers glanced over in jealousy that someone was actually having fun during Peter’s lecture.
“Something tells me you don’t get nearly enough credit for wit. Women don’t usually though.”
“You’re right about that.” You handed her the teacup, and you both moved towards the hallway.
“Alright, so tell me, what does y/n like to read?”
From then on, you began having more talks. You didn’t know when, but at some point, Ada’s hours shifted to align with yours. She told you it was because she didn’t like leaving too late in the evening. You didn’t mind. In fact, you secretly hoped she was a chatty woman after all, and would always stop you mid-shelving to tell you about something in the news about women’s rights or the union.
At the next staff outing, a bit of a cocktail party with some academics, you found yourself actually showing up. You never went to these things, and it took the first half-hour for everyone to stop commenting on it. Ada seemed to know her way around well, commanding conversations and working the room. You’d work at the library for nearly over the year and hadn’t even heard half of these people’s voices.
You could hold your own, but your disinterest in many of the perspectives in the room of men tended to make you grin and bear it while Peter from the archive room explained why women’s suffrage was foolish to every woman who didn’t have the option to not listen. Your eyes always traveled the place, keeping tabs on Ada. Peter’s eyes followed yours when you finally found her.
“Ah, the new girl.”
“Woman,” you corrected to no avail.
“Heard she’s a communist and a gangster.” He grimaced.
“How exciting. I’ll get to the bottom of things and report back.” You shamelessly stole his glass of whiskey and made your way over to the conversation Ada was commanding.
“-It’s the power and the power and property of the people,” she said. You had to admit that, though it was terrible of you, politics were something you were only shallowly versed in before she showed up. You watched her passion as she spoke, the way her eyes lit up, and her hands moved theatrically. When the men she was talking to got pulled away, she gave you all of her attention.
“You’re so passionate.” You commended her.
“Well, someone has to be, right?” She shrugged and led you both towards a table that held more wine.
“I would really love to hear your perspective on the strikes.” You tried to remain calm as you made your ask. “If you have time one of these days, after work even.” Ada turned and caught the gaze that you hoped wasn’t as eager as you felt.
“I would really like that. But only if you talk to me about mythology.” She bargained. Your eyebrows shot up at her observation. You rarely talked about Greek mythology with anyone but the old man who came to the library every Thursday.
“How did-”
“I saw the way your eyes rolled while Edwin spewed his "Zeus doesn’t get enough credit” bullshit.“ She scoffed, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in you and spilled out your mouth.
"Your laugh is so lovely,” she said abruptly. So abruptly that even her own eyes widened a bit in surprise.
“Thank you.” You didn’t shy away from the compliment.
It was a dangerous realization, but the more you spent time together, to hang out more, you began to feel that there was no denying you were flirting with one another. You used things that a few friends had once told you on a night out at a bar when they saw a stranger making eyes at you. You were tipsy and let them coach you on flirting like a modern woman. While that had been undoubtedly awkward, this was one of the more natural things you had done in life. Ada was easy to get on with.
She came in one day with freshly cut hair, and you couldn’t help but admire it.
“You cut it,” you pointed out as you shelved the infamous encyclopedia. You turned fully, to see Ada looking at you in earnest.
“Well? Do you like it?” She asked, bumping the ends.
“You look so lovely with it like this,” you told her.
“Short?”
“In a way you like it,” you clarified. Ada smiled to herself, turning to the stack of books at hand then back to you.
“Are you going to join the wild girls and chop your locks into a bob?” Ada reached out and toyed with your ends. You blushed and shook your head.
“Oh, I don’t think I have the face for it.”
“Nonsense, I think you’ve got the face for just about anything, y/n.” Ada’s fingers slipped under your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes locked, and you could feel your brow furrow slightly. It was such a blurry line to walk along, this feeling. She turned once again to help a patron but was soon back at your side with jest in her voice. “You do look lovely today, y/n.”
“Thank you, Ada,” you laughed lightly. “I feel like there’s an ask coming on.”
“There is actually. You may or may not know this, but I cherish our friendship very much,” Ada placed a hand over yours, and you looked up in surprise, “and there’s a very important man in my life that I’d like you to meet.” The shock on your face was evident. A look of realization came over her.
“Oh, no,” she opened her mouth to address it when there was the most unlikely interruption.
“Hello, Ada.” The call was accompanied by commanding footsteps, and you both turned to see who it was.
“Tommy Shelby in a library,” she breathed the words in exhaustion.
“I need to borrow a book about the Russian Revolution,” the man announced.
“Shelby?” You questioned. You knew the name, but were so far removed from that life that it didn’t even register that Peter meant that Ada wasn’t a Thorne after all. She was a Shelby, a Peaky Blinder. Her head whipped around and you could have sworn she gulped before sighing dejectedly and walking to help who you assumed was her brother. You made yourself scant, continuing shelving, but Thomas Shelby’s refusal to use the proper voice level allowed you to hear just enough as you located a shelf near them.
“He was nice, maybe I’d like to see him again. Would I be able to do that?” Ada looked at her brother, expectantly. You quietly shelved the book, but she noticed you as you turned. Ada closed her eyes, seemingly in frustration, and sighed momentarily. You supposed she was speaking about the man she’d wanted to meet. Perhaps a husband if she was a Thorne.
Unfortunately, you left before seeing her again on your shift, and it was the weekend.
There was a picnic, but the part of you who acknowledged the soreness in your chest at the idea of Ada being married and you flirting so recklessly made you stay home. You were at the tail end of Sir Conan Doyle’s latest mystery anyway. For all your love of it, you were a slow reader, and you’d need ample time to finish. That was the end of that, you concluded. But it wasn’t. You kept thinking about going when you were working and reading and daydreaming. You didn’t go after all, and you felt sad about it. Your apartment you’d worked so hard to afford alone felt too quiet. It wasn’t until Monday you realized that it was actually your world that felt too quiet and it was only Ada saying “good morning” that turned the sound back on.
“You weren’t at the picnic.” She said softly, and almost painfully, as she walked into the small kitchen area where you were alone and waiting for the tea to boil.
“No, I had… something.” You stumbled of your words. You were both quiet, and you’d taken a particular interest in your shoes until you got your nerve. “Are you married?”
“No,” she answered quickly. When you looked up, you caught the redness of her cheeks as she flushed in embarrassment. “I was. I’m a widow.” She answered truthfully. You nodded and digested the answer.
“And that was your,”
“My brother, yes. Thomas Shelby.” She answered. You nodded again. Looking at your shoes again, you thought how to word your next question. Before you could, she answered it quietly. “There is no man I’d like to see again. It wasn’t how it sounded. I wanted, and still want, you to meet my son, Karl.”
“After Karl Marx?” You looked up knowingly with an eyebrow raised. For the first time, it was Ada who seemed more nervous than you. She nodded, letting out a light chuckle. You nodded again in understanding, this time while fighting a smile. “So you used to chase rats with a revolver?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” She laughed as the kettle finished. She brought two mugs over for you to pour into, now seeming more relieved. “So what suits me better? Thorne or Shelby?”
“I think Ada is just perfect,” you said. You poured, and when you looked up, you were almost startled by the thoughtfulness in her gaze. It was her turn to ask,
“Tonight, are you free?”
“Yes.”
“Fantastic.”
I’m actually serious about this, if at all possible, right now is a very good time to request queer books from your local library. Whether they get them or not is not in your control, but it is so important to show that there is a desire for queer books. I will also say getting more queer books in libraries and supporting queer authors are pretty fantastic byproducts of any action.
This isn’t something everyone can do, but please do see if you are one of the people who has the privilege to engage in this form of activism, and if you are, leverage that privilege for all you’re worth.
For anyone who can’t think of a queer book to request, here is a little list of some queer books that I think are underrated and might not be in circulation even at larger libraries:
Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown
Silver Under Nightfall by Rin Chupeco
Harvard’s Secret Court: The Savage 1920 Purge of Campus Homosexuals by William Wright
The Perks of Loving a Wallflower by Erica Ridley
God Themselves by Jae Nichelle
IRL by Tommy Pico
The Pink Line: Journeys Across the World’s Queer Frontiers by Mark Gevisser
Passing Strange by Ellen Klages
The New Queer Conscience by Adam Eli
Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl’s Confabulous Memoir by Kai Cheng Thom
Queering the Tarot by Cassandra Snow
Wash Day Diaries by Jamila Rowser
Queer Magic: Lgbt+ Spirituality and Culture from Around the World by Tomás Prower
Before We Were Trans: A New History of Gender by Kit Heyam
Beyond the Pale by Elana Dykewomon
Hi Honey, I’m Homo! by Matt Baume
The Secret Life of Church Ladies by Deesha Philyaw
Kapaemahu by Dean Hamer, Joe Wilson, Hinaleimoana Wong-Kalu
Sacrament of Bodies by Romeo Oriogun
Tell Me I’m Worthless by Alison Rumfitt
Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman
Disintegrate/Dissociate by Arielle Twist
Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke Emezi
Peaches and Honey by Imogen Markwell-Tweed
Nepantla: An Anthology Dedicated to Queer Poets of Color by Christopher Soto
And then I noticed the calendar on the coffee table. I could’ve sworn I threw it out, and I knew Aunt Analea had stopped keeping track of the days, but not for seven years...
ashley poston
Maleficent + Costumes
Princess Aurora’s blue & golden dress in Maleficent (2014).
// requested by anonymous
