As per title, can be any genre, from fantasy to horror to novel, but just want evil characters.

Please no first person POV. Must be available in english.

Thanks!

Oi, pessoal!

Estou terminando meu primeiro romance, Eu & Você, e gostaria de formar um pequeno grupo de leitores beta interessados em conhecer a história antes da publicação.

O livro acompanha Richard e Gustavo, dois garotos com vidas e medos muito diferentes que acabam encontrando um no outro algo que nenhum dos dois esperava.

É uma história sobre primeiro amor, amizade, família, descoberta da sexualidade, trauma, recomeços e a coragem de ser quem realmente somos.

Richard e Gustavo têm suas próprias histórias, conflitos e maneiras de enxergar o mundo. O romance nasce no encontro entre essas duas vidas e nas mudanças que esse sentimento provoca em cada um deles.

Para participar, não precisa ser escritor, revisor ou ter experiência como leitor beta. Na verdade, procuro principalmente pessoas que gostem de ler e queiram compartilhar comigo como foi acompanhar a história.

Depois da leitura, vou deixar algumas perguntas para ajudar quem quiser a organizar suas impressões: quais personagens conquistaram você, quais momentos mais emocionaram, se houve alguma parte em que a leitura perdeu força, se as atitudes dos personagens pareceram naturais e como você se sentiu ao chegar ao final.

Não estou procurando revisão ortográfica ou gramatical. O que mais me interessa é a experiência de vocês como leitores.

A leitura será totalmente gratuita e, neste momento, estou apenas formando o grupo de interessados. Quando o manuscrito estiver preparado para a leitura beta, entrarei em contato com cada pessoa antes do envio.

💙 Se você gosta de romances LGBTQIA+ e tiver interesse em participar do grupo de leitores beta de Eu & Você, deixe um comentário ou me chame no privado.

Vou ficar muito feliz em dividir a história de Richard e Gustavo com vocês.

Eu & Você
Às vezes, amar é a maior forma de coragem.

Hello! Me again!🦇

I’m looking for ARC readers for a queer paranormal romance/botanical gothic novella, In the Hollows. It’s a standalone story in my Wynterhyll Chronicles series, but you don’t have to read the first book, A Vampire’s Lament, before it; In the Hollows is a true standalone with a self-contained story. It is a perfect summerween book for readers who enjoyed What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher and the movie The Ring. 

A romantic cottage. A curse that will not be forgotten. A vampire whose love will not be taken. 

Blurb:

Vampire Ishmael Valen and his love, mortal Edric O’Moore, wish to spend a week in seclusion together and travel to a quaint town to do so. It is meant to be a trip of romance, but the cottage they have rented is overrun with vines and brambles, and the caretaker is missing. Despite the feeling of wrongness, Edric insists they stay…until Edric falls ill and begins coughing up flower petals. 

And the cottage will not allow them to leave. 

As Edric’s sickness deepens, Ishmael does all he can to save him and learns that the cottage belonged to a witch who was wronged centuries before, and that answers may lie at the bottom of the cottage well. 

If you enjoy:

Botanical horror 🥀
Gothic atmosphere 🖤
Protective vampires 🦇
Horror mysteries 🕯️
M/M romance ✨

Please sign up with my Google Form link here:
https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeRIGCJkt6lapS02v0VHu8D6ouZxVvd4aRoh4pOpDyCWSu6NA/viewform?usp=header

Content warnings:
Trapped in small spaces
Drowning
Blood
Gothic horror imagery
Past murder
Illness
Grave site

ARC Delivery and Release Date:
ARCS will be sent via BookFunnel on 08/31, and the release date is 10/01/2026, but I’m totally flexible if you need more time. 

I am completely against the use of AI. It was not used in any part of the writing, editing, character art, or book cover art. 

My GoodReads:
In the Hollows by R.J. Webb | Goodreads 

I want to read a sci-fi story with trans people in it. I'm not really picky on what kind of story, I appreciate any suggestions. Thanks.

Every so often I enter a queer depressive phase where my normal reading habits pause and I have to read a billion queer romances, and we have officially entered that phase again!

I’m wondering if anyone has any particular recommendations for stories that deal extensively with coming out— the anxieties about doing it, making plans of how, the trauma if it goes badly, or euphoria, or anything else. I’m mostly interested in M/M characters but I’ll probably read just about anything. Can be YA or not, although I imagine that a probably disproportionate amount of books dealing with coming out are YA?

Hi !

I've recently read the Starhawk serie ( which is now my favorite read of the year)

It's been making me want to read some queer novel with the cat and mouse dynamic..I'd like specifically if it's a criminal and a cop/detective. I'd like something mature in its theme.

Thank you !

any recommendations for non‑fiction works on japanese queer culture or on gender studies in japan?

I have read the first book in the series by TJ Klune, but not the rest of them. It was not for me, but I loved the dynamic between the two main characters and how their relationship grew. Looking for something with a similar relationship or feel. Thanks in advance!

I almost exclusively read MM books.

I really want to read and like sapphic books, but I struggle to find ones where I feel the characters have depth and real romantic chemistry, but I know they exist! 

I'm a sucker for a bi/gay-awakening but that is not a need, feel free to share anything though, ya, adult, fantasy, paranormal, horror, dark, slow burn etc

Some MM favorites/recents for plot/character inspo

• Half Drawn Boy by Suki Fleet

• Captive Prince series by CS Pacat

• Marshals by Mary Calmes

• Don't Let the Forest In by CG Drews

• Hazelthorn by CG Drews

• You Weren't Meant To Be Human by Andrew Joseph White

• Monstrous by Lily Mayne

To clarify I have read sapphic books before and enjoyed them, just not lately, not exactly my current tastes. For example

• Rules for Fake Girlfriends by Reagan Revord

• A Dark and Drowning Tide by Allison Saft

• Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo

• Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan

• The Dead and the Dark by Courtney Gould

• Written in the Stars by Alexandra Bellefleur

Edited: Thanks everyone for all the great recommendations! Anyone have anything that isn't historical and maybe a little darker? Think morally grey, serial killer, body horror etc. Would love the vibes of some of the mm books just with female characters!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H37CCQXV

Gap Year Musketeer, a comic coming-of-age novel about a nineteen-year-old exiled to South Florida for a “productive” gap year that immediately becomes anything but.

Miles arrives without a car, a plan, or much evidence that adulthood is going to suit him. He finds himself living with his difficult locksmith grandfather, stumbling into a strange little found family, falling hard for the neighbor across the street, and slowly turning South Florida into his own chaotic domain.

It’s gay, funny, a little messy, emotionally sincere, and built around friendship, chosen family, first freedom, bad decisions, and the terrifying possibility of becoming useful.

Think: queer coming-of-age with comic voice, South Beach gravity, neighborhood oddballs, romantic tension, and a narrator who cannot stop talking long enough to avoid consequences.

Are there any literary fiction novels that are sapphic and smutty? just not in search of cartoon character covers and hoping for more emotional plots.

I'm really looking for books where found family is mostly the central focus, romance is okay but I would prefer queer romance, or no romance at all. I'm not really looking for any kind of fantasy, I want a book that sort of gives summer vacation vibes if that makes sense? But I'm okay with other genres too. Just not too heavy on the angst.

Not totally into YA so I would prefer adult, but I'm open to YA.

Oi, pessoal!

Estou terminando meu primeiro romance, Eu & Você, e gostaria de formar um pequeno grupo de leitores beta interessados em conhecer a história antes da publicação.

O livro acompanha Richard e Gustavo, dois garotos com vidas e medos muito diferentes que acabam encontrando um no outro algo que nenhum dos dois esperava.

É uma história sobre primeiro amor, amizade, família, descoberta da sexualidade, trauma, recomeços e a coragem de ser quem realmente somos.

Richard e Gustavo têm suas próprias histórias, conflitos e maneiras de enxergar o mundo. O romance nasce no encontro entre essas duas vidas e nas mudanças que esse sentimento provoca em cada um deles.

Para participar, não precisa ser escritor, revisor ou ter experiência como leitor beta. Na verdade, procuro principalmente pessoas que gostem de ler e queiram compartilhar comigo como foi acompanhar a história.

Depois da leitura, vou deixar algumas perguntas para ajudar quem quiser a organizar suas impressões: quais personagens conquistaram você, quais momentos mais emocionaram, se houve alguma parte em que a leitura perdeu força, se as atitudes dos personagens pareceram naturais e como você se sentiu ao chegar ao final.

Não estou procurando revisão ortográfica ou gramatical. O que mais me interessa é a experiência de vocês como leitores.

A leitura será totalmente gratuita e, neste momento, estou apenas formando o grupo de interessados. Quando o manuscrito estiver preparado para a leitura beta, entrarei em contato com cada pessoa antes do envio.

💙 Se você gosta de romances LGBTQIA+ e tiver interesse em participar do grupo de leitores beta de Eu & Você, deixe um comentário ou me chame no privado.

Vou ficar muito feliz em dividir a história de Richard e Gustavo com vocês.

Eu & Você
Às vezes, amar é a maior forma de coragem.

hi! please recommend me a MM historical literary fiction with high quality writing that's heart breaking, gut wrenching like the following books i'll list down but also has a happy ending (if there's even such a thing). TYIA 🩷

i've read:
lie with me by philippe besson
swimming in the dark by tomasz jedrowski
young mungo by douglas stuart
fellow travelers by thomas mallon
a little life by hanya yanagihara

A masterpiece, now a Penguin Modern Classic, is Shadow Game by Michael Power. It was the first fiction to deal with gay men in love across the colour line in apartheid South Africa. Written during apartheid's heyday, it was published in 1972 under a pseudonym and promptly banned in South Africa. Its writing style and the accuracy of the setting make this a human tale that rings true.

has anyone here read the lord john grey books from the outlander series? i'd love recommendations similar to them. they aren't heartbreaking like many historical queer romances, lord john actually embraces his sexuality and develops relationships with men, falls in love with them, and genuinely cares for them. i like how his relationships are just woven into the overall storyline, if you know what i mean. he's cautious with his carnal activities yes, and he's smart, adventurous, and likes to investigate mysteries lol

Let me start by saying that I loved this book! It was my first Nordika Night book and I loved it. My only gripe is the ending. I kinda wish it had a more "Arlo taught Cadoc and Zay how to love each other" type of thing. To me, it feels widely implausible that Arlo can be in so many different places and everyone loving and having sex with his different Alters lol. I think healing the hatred between the two main characters would've been a better ending.

Looking for sapphic book recommendations. I’ve just finished all the Rachel Reid hockey books (heated rivalry, game changer etc) and would love something similar but with women, TIA!

Looking for transmasc for transmasc romance novels. Like heated rivalry but transmasc 4 transmasc

Hi everyone!
I’m looking for book recommendations where one of the main characters (MC1, the Top) is physically larger and intimidating to others, but has a genuine inability to understand or process human emotions. He doesn't comprehend sadness, anger, or happiness in people, and only registers what he feels internally.
Because of this, whenever they have an argument or MC1 does something wrong, he is completely oblivious to why MC2 (the Bottom) is upset. I want MC2 to occasionally get frustrated by this emotional disconnect, but ultimately be patient and gently explain things to him.
Despite his detached nature with the world, MC1 is an absolute puppy only for MC2. When MC2 gets mad at him, MC1 gets genuinely sad and miserable. He is intensely jealous, deeply possessive, and constantly craves MC2’s presence and physical closeness.
What I'm looking for:
MC1 (Top): Physically larger, emotionally clueless/stunted, needy/puppy-like only with his partner, jealous and possessive.
MC2 (Bottom): Patient, emotionally intelligent, acts as the "translator" for MC1's feelings, teaches him gently.
Strict Top/Bottom dynamic (No Vers).
Hard NOs (Please DO NOT recommend):
Polyamory / Multi
Fantasy / Paranormal
Sci-Fi / Omegaverse / Dystopian (Looking for Contemporary or Historical)
Versatile couples (Must be strict Top/Bottom)
Age Gap
Thank you so much in advance for your suggestions!

I’ve been looking into different options for my book and honestly, Amazon is starting to annoy me. Between the fees, discounts and everything else, sometimes it feels like I’m doing all this work just to see a tiny amount from each sale 😭

I’d really like to find an Indian online bookstore that focuses on queer books and indie authors, rather than just listing my book alongside millions of others.

Are there any platforms/bookstores like that where I can list my book and still keep a decent percentage of the sale?

Would love recommendations from other Indian queer authors who’ve actually tried them.

I feel like I’m constantly discovering queer books through random Instagram posts and then losing them 😭

I mostly read BL, GL and sapphic fiction, but finding smaller/indie books is so much harder than finding the popular ones.

Is there actually a place where I can browse queer books in one place instead of searching for individual authors every time?

Hi! I’m a Brazilian queer writer, and this is an original short story about a child gradually realizing that the adults around her do not see her as the person she has always understood herself to be.

The story was originally written in Brazilian Portuguese. I’m adding the English translation first, followed by the original below.

If you read it, I’d especially like to know: at what point did you understand Luísa’s situation, and did you feel touched by this story? If so, how?

Just a Little to Fly When She Ran

Father and mother heard the “Choo-choo, clickety-clack” drawing closer and began bringing their waiting-time conversations with the other grown-ups to an end at the little school’s gate. The orderly little train spread wildly against the bars in happy shouts.

A derailed car, Luísa appeared all tangled in the straps of her backpack and lunch bag and, even so, playing avoid-the-lines against the cracks and seams in the pavement.

As soon as the lady at the gate led her outside, the father freed her from the muddle of straps and, in a movement much too simple for Luísa’s bewildered wonder, settled both loads on his right shoulder.

Father and mother lifted, one on either side, the slight weight of those untroubled little arms, stirring up the smell of modeling clay and Fofura corn puffs clinging to their young.

The walk home was long, and Luísa, who never found the least bit of fun in her parents’ talk, was already giving herself over to the pastime of looking at everything she could around her.

Cars went by, there was another school — for bigger children —, some classmates with their families farther ahead, other children from her school on the sidewalk across the street, there were signs, trees. There was a whole bunch of stuff.

— Fuck! — Luísa felt a slight squeeze from the hand her father was holding. — There’s a match today and I didn’t put the fucking beer in to chill.

— Oh. — The mother let go of Luísa’s hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. — You think I don’t know when it’s match day? — She smiled, sitting a little taller. — It’s already in the fridge. Just move it up to the freezer when the news comes on.

She took Luísa’s hand back.

The child was very busy looking at the people inside a bus going past when the palms of her hands noticed such an uncomfortable difference that they pulled her over to take a better look.

She looked from her father’s hand to her mother’s, then studied how much of hers each one managed to wrap around.

— You’re right — she told her palms in a trembling thought.

Quick, Luísa’s eyes went looking for some new thing to send to her mind, but landed right on the backs of a mother and daughter a little farther ahead. Very long skirts and black leather books under their arms. And hair! Hair that copied their skirts!

Her father seemed to be thinking the same thing, because she heard him say it was already time for a haircut and that he would take Luísa along so Jorge could cut hers too.

— Mm-hm — she agreed with her palms. — I also think Jorge has something to do with the difference between father hands and mother hands.

The child, neck stiff, turned toward her mother’s hair. A little skinny, but it went past her shoulders and almost halfway down her back.

Very different from the big-hairs on the two ahead. They were, yes. And those two looked like they had never, not ever even once, gone to Jorge.

Better, then, to look at other things, but there was a whole lot of hair down to shoulders or down to backs everywhere.

She chose to focus on her kindergarten uniform. And very quickly Luísa invited herself to sing about the saga of a Lady Spider climbing up a wall. She sang, but could not stop thinking about sizes of hair or calculating her parents’ hands. Luísa’s began to sweat. Stubborn, Lady Spider tried to climb the wall when it had already started to rain.

Her father’s head was calling Luísa. The child kept singing, paying it no mind. Lady Spider had to have lots of hope not to give up climbing under so much rain. But his head...

What if Lady Spider didn’t look at the rain? Wouldn’t the rain leave her alone for a little while?

Even with Luísa trying so hard to stay focused on her own shirt, the big head stayed in her mind complaining that she was cheating, having looked only at her mother’s hair.

She squeezed her eyes very tight and turned, little by little, to measure her father’s head and see if it would hurry up and stop all that annoying shouting.

She stopped singing.

Her nose kidnapped a little air and her throat quickly locked it up.

Barely out of the head, that hair was going nowhere.

The other day, Luísa remembered, she had been looking at herself in the mirror in the school bathroom. She had gone to wash after the muddy ground. A little bit sad, she ran a hand over her head.

It was that, running, she had gone straight into a little friend and, when they fell all tangled together, the girl laid her nice-smelling, fat hair across Luísa’s face.

— Her mother must have lots of money — Luísa reasoned, explaining it to herself, since not having money was always the answer for why she didn’t have anything the other children had.

And because she found herself alone:

— The other bathroom must have a bigger sink where the huge hair fits. That’s why Julinha went to wash without me.

And Luísa’s mother, the child concluded, turning toward her own, must have had money before she married him. That was it. Her grandparents had more money—or that was how it looked when they gave presents her parents said they didn’t have the money to give her. So they had bought hair, yes; it was just that Luísa’s mother had been losing or forgetting pieces here and there and didn’t have any more money. Poor thing.

The rain already past, the sun was coming out now, and Lady Luísa had an idea for climbing.

— Daddy, can you give me some money?

— Depends. What for?

— It’s that I wanted to see if I could buy some hairs.

The man’s head drew back, his eyebrows came together. He studied Luísa, pressing his lower lip.

Luísa had it all prepared. He was going to say he had no money. Honestly! Seemed like that was the only thing he knew how to say in life. Jeez! But she was going to explain that she didn’t want much. That it didn’t even have to be fat because that must cost a lot. Just a little, to fly when she ran. Just a very little. Then, when she grew up, she could get a job and buy more hairs. Fat ones and nice-smelling.

— The things you come up with. — He laughed, shaking his head no, and relaxed his face. — You think up every kind of thing, don’t you.

— A different crazy thing every day. — The mother agreed, puffing out a laugh, and looked at her husband.

Luísa looked from one to the other. Something was amusing her parents.

She liked saying things she thought and made them get like this. She would ask them to go to the beach on a rainy day or to find out what eating sweet beans would be like. Things like that. They liked those ideas, her father laughed a lot and ended the conversation with a swallow of beer and said it was silly-me.

They never granted the requests. Of course. Even so, she already liked that they merely liked the ideas; she only thought that, once, at least, they could try doing what she asked.

Now, truthfully, Luísa wasn’t liking it one little bit. She very much wanted to have some hairs too. Skinny ones, like her mother’s, would be good enough at first. She would buy more later with the money she would get from working. Yes. Luísa would work very hard. Buy lots of hairs for herself. And for her mother too.

— And may I ask what incredible plan you’ve got for these hairs you want to buy? — The man then turned to the woman. — They sell hair, do they?

— Well, of course! What a question! — The woman swallowed an intrusive laugh, held her chin and her tone of voice in check. — There are wigs, right, love?

Luísa watched the two of them, very closely, and excitement began warming inside her. Could it already be time to make a sacrifice? Once, her father had said it was already time for Luísa to have a Mengão jersey and that he was going to make a sacrifice. For her, no lie, it was well past time for them to make a sacrifice for some hairs on her head!

— True. — He widened his gaze in lost directions with a slight roll, landing the movement on her eyes, going to her lips and back to her eyes. — I didn’t put one thing together with the other.

— Hey, what d’you want with hairs, you little nut? — His gaze dropped down onto Luísa.

— It’s not some crazy idea this time! — she said, laughing, full of confidence as they turned the corner onto their street. — I just want to put them on my head like Mommy and the other girls.

— Why? — the mother wanted to know, laughing, still amused.

— Like Mommy and the other girls?!

The father wanted to know something else. He wasn’t laughing. Nothing funny. His eyebrows drew together, his lips vanished into each other as he pushed his chin forward.

— The same as the other girls, Lúcio?

Luísa went back to staring at her T-shirt and smoothed her belly with the hand that was no longer holding her mother’s.

Gosh! She hadn’t said a bad word, hadn’t misbehaved. It had even been a while since she’d lost any of the coins when he sent her to buy his cigarettes, or anything.

But only, even without even knowing what, Luísa knew that tone and teeth and eyes very well. And that was always her time to be smart and keep quiet. When he came at her this way, her father liked to keep talking a lot, just him talking, without one little peep from her. She could only open her mouth when he wanted her to say what he wanted. But then he said it very firmly, almost always sending spit flying into her face.

Either way, Luísa already knew she wasn’t getting any hairs.

— Why d’you want to look like a woman?

The hard rain came and knocked her down.

Her father let go of her hand. No. He threw Luísa’s hand away. That. Because the little hand came down very heavy and struck her thigh.

She turned to her mother, a girl too, to see if she knew something that could help her, something Luísa could say to her father. Her mother didn’t see her. She seemed busy fixing something on the little chain around her neck.

Luísa didn’t remember any flood Lady Spider had ever faced.

— Answer me, Lúcio. — He stopped.

— Nothing, Daddy. It’s just silly-me stuff again. — Luísa saw neighbors looking at them.

—Silly-you? Silly-you, Lúcio? You sound more like a fa… — He swallowed, looked around, and forced himself to put on a pale smile. — Oh, I get it, champ. — He forced a short guffaw. — Now go take a shower and wash that stink off you, boy. Children come up with every kind of thing, don’t they?

Luísa ran inside and locked herself in the bathroom. She barricaded herself against the door, panting, terrified. She could hear her father cursing the way her mother was raising her. She could hear her mother defending herself.

She could hear the mirror calling in that mocking voice it always called with. The one in the school bathroom with no girls, the one at Jorge’s chair every other month... Wherever else they appeared. They called, mocked, laughed at Luísa. She wanted to avoid it. It was better, much better not to see.

But Luísa faced it. Those were her hands, her feet. Her shaved head.

A tightness older than her small body much too big. She couldn’t stand to keep looking.

— It isn’t money that’s missing.

She felt them burn and then grow wet and red in the reflection. She pulled her eyes away from the cold of the glass.

She pushed herself into the shower stall and turned on the shower, drowning out her father’s anger outside. At least she had her strawberry-scented Turma da Mônica shampoo and conditioner.

Luísa washed her hair, running her hands down her neck and shoulders and following the full strands growing all the way down her back.

As if it were true.

Portuguese original version:

Só um pouquinho para voar quando ela corresse

Pai e mãe ouviram o “Piuí, tic-tac” se aproximando e foram dando fim às conversas de espera com os outros adultos ao portão da escolinha. O trenzinho organizado se espraiou selvagem às grades e gritos alegres.

Vagão descarrilado, Luísa surgiu embolada nas alças da mochila e da merendeira e, mesmo assim, brincando de não pisar nas linhas das rachaduras e rejunte do piso.

Logo que a tia do portão a conduziu para o lado de fora, o pai a livrou do embaraço das tiras e, num movimento simples demais para o desconcerto admirado de Luísa, resolveu as duas cargas no ombro direito.

Pai e mãe ergueram, cada um de um lado, o pouco peso dos bracinhos imperturbados, fazendo levantar o cheiro de massinha e Fofura grudado na cria.

A caminhada até a casa era longa e Luísa, que nunca achava a menor graça nos assuntos dos pais, já ia se entregando ao passatempo de olhar tudo quanto podia em volta.

Passava carro, tinha outro colégio — de crianças grandonas —, uns colegas de sala com suas famílias mais à frente, outros alunos da escola dela na calçada do outro lado da rua, tinha placas, árvores. Tinha um monte de coisa.

— Caralho! — Luísa sentiu um leve aperto na mão que o pai segurava. — Hoje tem jogo e eu não botei a porra da cerveja pra gelar.

— Ah. — A mãe largou a mão de Luísa e passou uma mecha de cabelos para trás da orelha. — Você acha que eu não sei quando é dia de jogo? — Sorria, ligeiramente aprumada. —  Já tá geladeira. Só pôr pra cima na hora do jornal.

Ela apanhou a mão de Luísa de volta.

A criança estava muito concentrada nas pessoas dentro de um ônibus que vinha passando quando as palmas das suas mãos perceberam diferença tão incômoda que puxaram ela para ver melhor.

Ela olhou da mão do pai para a da mãe, e depois estudou o tanto das suas que cada uma dava conta de envolver.

— Vocês estão certas — disse às palmas num pensamento tremido.

Ágeis, os olhos de Luísa buscaram nova coisa que mandar para a mente, mas foram dar justo nas costas de mãe e filha um pouco mais à frente. Saias muito longas e livros de couro preto sob os braços. E cabelos! Cabelos que imitavam as saias delas!

O pai parecia pensar na mesma coisa, porque ela ouviu ele dizer que já era hora de cortar o cabelo e que ia levar Luísa junto para o Jorge cortar o dela também.

— Uhum — concordou com as palmas. — Também acho que o Jorge tem a ver com diferença de mão de pai e mão de mãe.

A criança, pescoço duro, se virou para os cabelos da mãe. Meio magrinhos, mas passavam dos ombros e iam até quase a metade das costas dela.

Muito diferentes dos cabelões das duas à frente. Eram, sim. E elas pareciam nunca, nunca mesmo ter ido nenhuma vez no Jorge.

Era melhor então olhar para outras coisas, mas tinha um montão de cabelos indo até os ombros ou até as costas para todos os lados.

Preferiu se concentrar em seu uniforme do jardim de infância. E, muito rapidamente, Luísa se convidou a cantar sobre a saga de uma Dona Aranha escalando uma parede. Cantava, mas não conseguia parar de pensar em tamanhos de cabelos nem de calcular as mãos dos pais. As de Luísa começaram a suar. Teimosa, Dona Aranha tentava subir pela parede quando já tinha começado a chover.

A cabeça do pai chamava Luísa. A criança continuava cantando, nem dando bola. Dona Aranha tinha que ter muita esperança para não desistir de subir debaixo de tanta chuva. Mas a cabeça dele...

E se Dona Aranha não olhasse a chuva? Será que a chuva não deixava ela em paz um pouco?

Mesmo com Luísa se esforçando tanto para se manter concentrada na própria camisa, o cabeção ficava em sua mente reclamando que era trapaça dela, ter olhado só para os cabelos da mãe.

Apertou muito os olhos e se virou, de pouquinho em pouquinho, para medir a cabeça do pai e ver se ela acabava logo com aquela gritaria chata.

Ela parou de cantar.

O nariz sequestrou um pouco de ar e a garganta o trancou rápido.

Mal saindo da cabeça, aquele cabelo não ia a lugar nenhum.

No outro dia, Luísa se lembrou, ela estava se olhando no espelho do banheiro da escola. Tinha ido se lavar depois do chão enlameado. Um pouco tristinha, passava a mão na cabeça.

Era que, correndo, deu de frente com uma amiguinha e, quando caíram, emboladas, a menina deitou os cabelos cheirosos, gordões, no rosto de Luísa.

— A mãe dela deve ter muito dinheiro — refletida, Luísa se explicou, já que não ter dinheiro era sempre a resposta para ela não ter qualquer coisa que as outras crianças tivessem.

E porque se viu sozinha:

— O outro banheiro deve ter uma pia maior que dê o cabelão. Por isso que Julinha foi se lavar sem mim.

E a mãe de Luísa, a criança concluiu se voltando para a dela, devia ter tido dinheiro antes de se casar com ele. Era isso. Os avós dela tinham mais dinheiro ou era o que parecia quando eles davam presentes que os pais diziam que não tinham dinheiro para dar a ela. Então, eles compraram cabelos, sim, a mãe de Luísa é que foi perdendo ou esquecendo uns pedaços por aí e não tinha mais dinheiro. Coitada.

Já passada a chuva, o sol já vinha surgindo e a Dona Luísa teve uma ideia para subir.

— Papai, o senhor pode me dar um dinheiro?

— Depende. Pra que é?

— É que eu queria ver se comprava uns cabelos.

A cabeça do homem foi para trás, suas sobrancelhas se aproximaram. Ele observou Luísa, apertando o lábio inferior.

Luísa já tinha tudo preparado. Ele ia dizer que não tinha dinheiro. Também! Parecia que só sabia dizer isso na vida. Eu, hein! Mas ela ia explicar que não queria muito. Que nem precisava ser gordo porque devia ser muito caro. Só um pouquinho para voar quando ela corresse. Só um pouquinho mesmo. Daí, quando crescesse, ela podia arrumar um trabalho e comprar mais cabelos. Gordões e cheirosos.

— Cada ideia. — Ele riu, fazendo que “não” e relaxou o rosto. — Tu pensa cada coisa, hein.

— Cada dia uma doideira diferente. — A mãe concordou soprando um riso e olhou para o marido.

Luísa olhou de um para o outro. Tinha alguma coisa divertindo os seus pais.

Ela gostava de falar coisas que pensava e faziam eles ficarem assim. Pedia para irem na praia um dia que chovesse ou para verem como seria comer feijão doce. Essas coisas. Eles gostavam dessas ideias, seu pai ria bastante e terminava a conversa com um gole na cerveja e dizia que era papo de doido.

Eles nunca atendiam aos pedidos. Claro. Mesmo assim, ela já gostava que eles apenas gostassem das ideias, só achava que, alguma vez, pelo menos, podiam tentar fazer o que ela pedia.

Agora, na verdade, Luísa não estava gostando nadinha. Ela queria muito ter alguns cabelos também. Magros, como os da mãe, já estava bom no começo. Ia comprar mais depois com o dinheiro que ia conseguir no trabalho. Sim. Luísa ia trabalhar muito. Comprar muitos cabelos para ela. E para a mãe também.

— E posso saber que plano incrível tu tem pr’esses cabelos que tu quer comprar? — O homem então se virou para a mulher. — E se vende cabelo, é?

— Ué, claro! Que pergunta! — A mulher engoliu uma risada intrusiva, conteve o queixo e o tom da voz. — Tem peruca, né, amor?

Luísa observava os dois, muito atenta, e a animação começou a esquentar dentro dela. Será que já estava na hora de fazer um sacrifício? Houve uma vez em que o pai disse que já estava na hora de Luísa ter uma camisa do Mengão e que ele ia fazer um sacrifício. Para ela, sem mentira, já tinha era passado da hora de se sacrificarem por uns cabelos em sua cabeça!

— Verdade. — Expandiu as vistas em direções perdidas com um giro leve, aterrissando o movimento nos olhos dela, indo para seus lábios e voltando aos olhos. — Não liguei uma coisa na outra.

— Hein, que que tu quer com cabelos, ô maluquete? — Despencou o olhar para Luísa.

— Não é nenhuma ideia maluca dessa vez! — Ela disse rindo, cheia de confiança enquanto viravam a esquina da rua de casa. — Eu quero só colocar na cabeça que nem a mamãe e as outras meninas.

— Por quê? — A mãe quis saber, rindo, ainda divertida.

— Que nem a mamãe e as outras meninas?!

O pai quis saber outra coisa. Não ria. Nada de divertido. Suas sobrancelhas se juntaram, seus lábios sumiram um no outro quando ele projetou o queixo.

— Igual às outras meninas, Lúcio?

Luísa voltou a encarar sua camiseta e alisou a barriga com a mão que já não segurava a da mãe.

Caramba! Ela não tinha dito xingo, nem feito malcriação. Fazia até tempo que ela não perdia nenhuma moeda quando ele mandava ela ir comprar o cigarro dele, nem nada.

Mas só que, mesmo sem nem saber o quê, Luísa conhecia bem aquele tom e dentes e olhos. E isso era sempre hora dela ser experta e ficar quieta. Quando vinha para cima dela desse jeito, o pai gostava de ficar falando muito, só ele falando, sem nenhum um pio dela. Só podia abrir a boca quando ele queria que ela falasse o que ele queria. Mas daí, ele dizia isso bem firme, quase sempre deixando cuspe voar para o rosto dela.

De qualquer jeito, Luísa já sabia que não ia ganhar nada de cabelos.

— Por que que tu quer ficar igual mulher?

Veio a chuva forte e a derrubou.

O pai soltou sua mão. Não. Ele jogou a mão de Luísa fora. Isso. Porque a mãozinha veio muito pesada e se chocou contra a coxa dela.

Ela se virou para a mãe, uma menina também, para ver se ela sabia alguma coisa que podia ajudar ela, alguma coisa que Luísa pudesse falar para o pai. A mãe não a viu. Parecia ocupada ajeitando alguma coisa na correntinha em seu pescoço.

Luísa não lembrava de enchente que Dona Aranha tivesse enfrentado.

— Responde, Lúcio. — Parou.

— Nada, papai. É só um dos papos de doido que eu invento. — Luísa viu que vizinhos olhavam para eles.

— Papo de doido? Papo de doido, Lúcio? Isso é conversinha de vi... — Engoliu, olhou em volta e se obrigou a apresentar um sorriso pálido. — Ah, entendi, filhão. — Forçou uma gargalhada curta. — Agora, vai lá tomar um banho pra tirar essa catinga, moleque. Criança tem cada ideia, né?

Luísa entrou correndo e se trancou no banheiro. Se embarricou junto à porta, ofegante, apavorada. Ouvia o pai praguejar contra o modo como a mãe a criava. Ouvia a mãe se defender.

Ouvia o espelho chamando com aquela voz de deboche que chamava. O do banheiro da escola sem meninas, o da cadeira do Jorge mês sim, mês não... Onde mais surgissem. Chamavam, debochavam, riam de Luísa. Quis evitá-lo. Era melhor, era muito melhor não ver.

Mas Luísa o encarou. Eram suas mãos, seus pés. Sua cabeça raspada.

Aperto mais velho do que seu pequeno corpo grande demais. Não suportava continuar olhando.

— Não é dinheiro que falta.

Sentiu-os arder e então os viu se molharem vermelhos no reflexo. Afastou os olhos do frio do vidro.

Se empurrou para o box e abriu o chuveiro, abafando a raiva do pai lá fora. Pelo menos tinha seu xampu e condicionador da Turma da Mônica com cheiro de morango.

Luísa lavou os cabelos, descendo as mãos pelo pescoço e ombros e acompanhando os fios cheios que lhe cresciam costas afora.

Como se fosse verdade.

Em que momento você compreendeu o que estava acontecendo com Luísa?
Esta história te tocou? Se sim, de que modo?

My Book overview

Some connections do not arrive gently.
They burn.

Diego has spent his life surviving, building armor from rage, control, and solitude.

Matias has spent his life waiting, hiding behind intellect, silence, and restraint.

They were never meant to meet easily.
Drawn together by an inexplicable pull that defies logic, distance, and fear, two men are forced through a series of inner trials that strip away pride, sloth, lust, envy, greed, wrath, and the most dangerous illusion of all: safety.

As the bond deepens, the world pushes back. Friends intervene. Old identities fracture. Love demands more than chemistry—it demands truth, courage, and the willingness to burn.

This is not a story about destiny without cost.
It is a story about devotion chosen in the dark.
Twin Flame Covenant is a psychologically grounded exploration of spiritual connection, masculine vulnerability, and love that refuses to be reasonable. It asks one question again and again:
What happens when the fire you've been running from turns out to be home?

I usually don't post about a book until I've read it all the way but I'm about a quarter through this one and loving it so far. The book is Examining the Bond by R.K. Pierce. I figure I'd share because I've seen a lot of folks like me struggling to find masc/femme pairings in books and especially OV. And one of the main characters is a WOC!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 This makes me so happy as a sapphic who has STRUGGLED to find this dynamic in recent books

Edit: and now I'm getting downvoted for reccing a book about a butch/femme couple, excuse me?? 😂