#and then i have a couple of copies of wuthering heights

[lit-in-thy-heart]

i think i am going to need a whole shelf dedicated to the brontës...

#i'm giving away (hopefully) a load of ya books that i know i won't read again #like the mortal instruments series and the maze runner trilogy #perhaps a couple of the other rainbow rowell books (that aren't the carry on trilogy) that i have #i have *checks books* five different copies of the tenant of wildfell hall? #have just lent one to my sister #and then i have a couple of copies of wuthering heights #i am pretty sure i still have 2 copies of villette #(the bane of my existence) #and then three copies of agnes grey i think? #and then critical books on them #but i mean they'll come in handy #bc after somehow getting a prize for the best essay on the brontë family in second and third year #i have taken it as a sign that i should indeed become an anne brontë specialist if at all possible #i mean i'm sure there's loads that hasn't been done on her i can find something to write postgrad theses on #personal #lit talks #anne my beloved

[kooktrash]

the art of obsession | kim taehyung

summary: in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.

✎ genre/au: dark academia. college au. painter!taehyung x writer!y/n [afab. she/her]

✎ 17.4K words

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

warnings: smut. slight obsession with their work. prestigious college. tae literally takes oc to a graveyard. oc and tae dont take criticism well. unprotected intercourse. oral [f and m]. oc slobs on his knob and tae eats like it’s the last supper. missionary. side position. lowkey passionate sex. fireplace crackling. namjoon and oc used to be fwb. hints that oc and Jimin used to be fwb too. jungkook is tae’s sculpture artist bestie. jimin is oc’s ballerina bestie. namjoon is oc’s writer bestie.

The smell of cigarettes was something you were fairly used to being around where you resided. You’re not sure what makes it so popular among young academics and sometimes you wonder if it’s not the need of nicotine but more so the aesthetic of it that they all seem to enjoy. It seemed to always linger in the air around campus where all the grad students would walk with their heads down and bags under their eyes as stress took over their entire being. You understand the stress but being an undergrad student yourself, you’re not sure you could understand the extent of it that they must feel. All you could really do is watch the way it slowly deteriorates their body every time they step into the library.

Maybe it’s the Literature major in you, but you never fail to try and assess each person that walks in as if you could see their entire character design and what makes them who they are. Today you got a bit lucky because despite how slow your homework had been going, your favorite case of study had just walked in wearing his usual black turtleneck tucked into a pair of loose corduroy pants. He wore a pair of rounded wire glasses that you love getting to see him in and they did wonders to conceal the eye bags you knew were there.

With this smallest hint of entertainment you’ve found through your long and boring study session with only one friend to confide in, you shut your copy of — excuse the pretentiousness — The Pictures of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and lowered the volume on your headphones enough to be more aware of the cause of his visit today. You rarely saw him in the library and if he did happen to come by it was to check out or check in a single book on Michaelangelo or Davinci.

You were surprised by how close he seemed to have gotten to you today. The table you studied at was only a couple feet away from a book aisle he had currently walked down and now he was just a meter or so away with his head down in his book. The usual smell of smoke surrounded him and despite scrunching your nose at the smell, you chose to ignore it and study him a little further. You even went as far as to lower your headphones until they curled around your neck giving him your attention even if he didn’t know he had it.

As much of an observer as you were, you never seemed to catch on to the way his gaze would shift to you any time you weren’t looking, eyes scanning your features rather quickly as he made his own assessment. You dressed warmly today, probably due to the fact that there’s been a light rain that has been casted over the city, always seeming to linger longer where the buildings were older and all signs of urban life seemed to dissipate. You were dressed in neutral tones today that placed you perfectly with your own surroundings and if this was a painting he’s sure you would be the focal point—or maybe the single spec of bright color you wore which was in this case your powder blue headphones. He’s not sure he’s ever used that specific shade of blue in a single one of his works before but maybe he’ll look into it.

He rarely visited the library but when he did it was always a pleasant surprise to see you there. He didn’t care much to get to know you, he just found the aesthetic of it all captivating. The library was beautiful, truthfully, with its dark wood shelves and polished tile floors that echoed with each step. It was eerily quiet and it always smelled of old books and always reminded him of a cathedral. There were large stained glass windows of poets, painters, dancers, etc. the clear glass windows overlooked the large pond that covered the back of the small campus where the woods began to take over and student life decreased aside from the occasional late night college party hosted there between trees and bonfires.

“He always comes into my work for paints. I wonder why he always pays in cash.” Your friend said, suddenly appearing next to you and not messing with the printer anymore. He must’ve caught sight of Taehyung before he left and considering he worked at a supply store, it was no surprise he recognized him.

“Maybe he hates banks,” you joked, turning to Jimin with a smile. Jimin pursed his lips staring down the aisle where Taehyung had disappeared once he had his book, “Maybe cash is more aesthetically pleasing. He’s an art major, isn’t he? I say he’s too pretentious to use a plastic card—or even worse, Tap to Pay.”

At that you laughed, deciding to continue the teasing of a man you barely knew while also trying to defend him, “Do people ever get tired of throwing words around?”

“Are you referring to my use of ‘pretentious’?” Jimin asked as he moved to the other side of the counter, “I used the term correctly, it’s an adjective meaning, ‘attempting to impress by affecting greater importance and culture than is actually possessed’. His refusal to adhere to society’s technological advances is pretentious in itself. I bet he still uses No. 2 pencils as an act of defiance against mechanical pencils—if he was a writer like you he would probably be more drawn to a pen but he’s an artist and artists make mistakes that get covered up or changed.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, “Tell me then, Jimin, what does a ballerina use to convey words? An Arabesque?”

Jimin released a loud groan, “I hate this goddamn school.”

You watched him open his newest generation laptop and hide behind it. He knew now how little room he had to talk. You, yourself, couldn’t utter a word to disagree with him either when in your hand was a Montblanc fountain pen that cost your parents a hefty 1,500$ to get to you when you were first accepted into the school. You’re sure when the time comes for you to finish undergrad, they’ll up the price and give you one worth 4,000$—the most profound amount of proof that you did in fact strictly use pens for everything.

You would never dare mention anything revolving around the money Taehyung’s family is rumored to have because you don’t know anything about him to do so.

All you knew were the few things you’ve noticed — a couple that even made it into your journal — like the fact that he specialized in two mediums; charcoal and oil paintings. He’s a known name at the University for his work and dedication and you saw that through one of his works. It was dark and a bit twisted but it told a story and you think that’s what drew you into him before you even knew it was him.

Despite his strong presence that always seemed to draw you in, he had a gift for making himself invisible in a group setting. He never spoke up in class, never caused a fuss, he was in and out like a shadow.

At the start of the semester you were taken by surprise when you found him sitting in one of the back rows of the lecture hall to an advanced anatomy class that you’re sure you took for very different reasons. Taehyung was interested in the study of the body so he could fully understand the way the it works from the inside out. He wanted to understand how each limb moved, how fluid each bone and muscle connected, how they could contort, see where the organs go, imagine the flesh coming to life when he painted.

In literature, anatomy isn’t referring to the human body. It refers to a separation of a topic into smaller parts for detailed analysis of the work. You did not make a mistake when you chose this lecture, you too wanted to study the body for your work. You wanted to learn how fragile it really was, how it could be destroyed, how hard it was to do so. You wanted to know about which bones were weaker, which organ puncture did the most damage. You need visuals and understanding of its healing process, of the way it moved, how the nervous system worked. Once you had a better understanding of the body, you just knew that you would be able to apply all these things to your writing. You would be able to detail how your character’s body deteriorated outside and in. How the body would slowly break down, which nerves were affected, how the heart worked in that moment. It would be gruesome but intriguing enough for your readers.

Maybe you needed to write something not so dark, something that didn’t make you take courses you didn’t really need but wanted in hopes that they’ll help you understand better. You didn’t actually need to go this far to describe a couple grueling scenes but it helped.

The room was silent aside from the obnoxious sound of the clock, Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…Ticking.

You stood at the front of your professor’s desk in his clustered office filled with classical literature books and awards for writing all over the shelves. His desk took up the majority of the space inside and whenever you were in here you couldn’t help but feel just a little suffocated. There were barely any words shared between the two of you, he only ever decided to truly grace you with his speech when he was critiquing and yet right now he’s been uncomfortably silent.

The silence had grown so long that you found your attention drifting toward the grandfather clock that was tucked away near the overwhelming stained glass window that overlooked the courtyard filled with wet and fallen leaves. The trees were bare and the fountain had a sculpture of a big swan with its wings spread in what looked like a dance. It always reminded you of the Swan Song, but you never knew if that was morbid of you. The idea of your University of Fine Arts decorating the campus in the black and white birds simply for decor always seemed strange to you too.

There was no way they would ever portray anything without meaning, or at least something not up for interpretation and yet every time you looked at one of the swans, you thought about the Swan Song, the way the bird’s wings were open beautifully with each detail chiseled into the stone. It looked like the swan’s final performance before its end. It wasn’t the sort of symbolism you liked to see at a school with such dedicated artists looking for a way to perfect every aspect of their work as if each one was their last.

“I like it,” your professor finally said, drawing your attention back to him in an instant, “Your writing has improved Y/n, I’m starting to really visualize the plot and I think it has a certain rawness to it that I’m not used to seeing from you.”

The corner of your lips turned upward like you wanted to smile but you wouldn’t fully allow yourself to. He hasn’t looked at you yet, his eyes stayed glued to your paper and it was clear he wasn’t done, “But it still feels stiff—well, the main character does. I can’t understand him yet, he’s just a mystery to me and not one I’m interested in unraveling. I can’t understand his depth and it’s becoming a big flaw in your writing. Everything else sounds wonderful, well articulated and with such emotion… that when I think of him all I see a huge lack of substance. He’s being drowned out by the rest and he’s supposed to be the one I follow when I read.”

You didn’t say anything as your jaw slowly clenched shut, eyes unwavering as he went on, “It’s like you have a lack of knowledge for human emotion and psychology, I’m not sure that’s something that can be easily fixed.”

“Does it make my writing bad?” You asked stiffly and he shook his head no.

“No, your writing is captivating but there’s a very huge disconnect I’m feeling from your characters,” he said, looking up at you, “It takes away the beauty of it.”

Your lips felt sewn shut as he handed you back your paper with all of his notes for you to fix and you felt like crying. You couldn’t even utter out a single word as you forced yourself not to react to his words and leave his office with your head held high.

What did he mean by disconnect? What more did he want you to do? What did you not understand about human emotion? You’re a human, what is there not to get? What else did he want from you?

These questions circled your head for what felt like an eternity, only confusing you more and more as you left for your next lecture. You spent the fifteen minute gap with your journal out jotting down every question that came to mind trying to see how you could find answers to these.

You sat alone in your row of seats waiting for other students to arrive and you took the time to brainstorm. He told you your characters lacked substance and implied that they were hard to visualize. He said that he can’t understand them, especially the lead and that he couldn’t be absorbed into a story about a character he doesn’t care for. He basically said that you lacked an understanding of emotional depth for the characters you write and therefore your stories will continue to have a disconnect until something changes. If only something could inspire you, maybe help you analyze these so-called emotions you couldn’t comprehend. You needed to remove some of the mystery around your character and really dive in on his arc, understand how he felt. How could you do that? It's not like you could fully visualize it yourself either unless you really began to study those around you more than you already do.

You sat up straighter in your seat and looked around as the lecture hall began to fill slowly. The room had a sort of ancient feel to it with long hazelnut rows of desks pressed side by side against each other in an amphitheater manner. There were diagrams and models of the human body plastered everywhere but none looked straight off of a doctor’s catalog. They looked like Davinci himself drew every skeleton in the room. It also had a small echo especially when the rain hit the wall or glass windows that sometimes tuned out the sound of talking students entering the hall.

You recognized most of the faces and the one who passed you as he went up a few rows seemed to distract you more than the others. Kim Taehyung didn’t wear glasses today but he wore a wool sweater and linen pants. There was a small splotch of gray paint on his knuckle that he hadn't seemed to notice as he swung his book bag onto the desk with a small thud, uncaring if anyone heard and ignored everyone around him.

He was similar to your character, almost. He always seemed closed off and unapproachable but behind his eyes was an aura of emotion that isn’t easily interpreted. You found yourself beginning to scribble down in your journal, just basic things you noted about him.

The lazy, bored look in his eyes that made him look tired and unamused by everything that happened around him.

Then there was his stance. He had good posture but when he sat down in his seat he leaned all the way back with his arms on the table like he was observing every person in the lecture hall, even you.

You knew this because for a second your eyes met with Taehyung’s and in that measly moment you just took in the sight of each other. Taehyung didn’t hold much expression in face but his fingers seemed to twirl his No. 2 pencil a little more intently now. He ran his gaze down from your eyes to the curve of your nose and curl of your lips. There was something about your facial features that he was delighted in studying. When you looked away and gave him a view of your side profile he leaned toward his desk more and the leather sketchbook that rested over his textbook was flipped open as he began to sketch you.

The drawing didn’t mean much to him, it was just a small doodle to pass time, his hands had to always be sketching and you happened to be his distraction today. Usually he doesn’t really pay attention to you when he’s in class, you sit far enough from each other that you never interact and when he catches you in the library you always seem lost in your own world.

He knows your name, he read your story last semester simply because it intrigued him. It was published on the school forum and won an achievement so he checked it out and it was good, your writing is intricate, or at least that’s what he thinks. He’s able to follow along to every word and not be bored or confused but with a certain degree of understanding that the reader needs to learn. There’s an aura of mystery around it, yet it was not something that he couldn’t comprehend and he thinks that’s why he was able to enjoy it.

At the end of the lecture he had three small drawings of you.

“Come on man, it won’t take long, just one drink,” Jungkook begged him for the third time in a row. Despite his friend’s darker exterior dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and a black leather jacket, he was way more outgoing. He was always trying to get Taehyung to go out for drinks or to party but he just doesn’t have the time.

“Not tonight,” Taehyung said as he opened up his pack of cigarettes and took one out, sliding it to his lips before burning the end with his lighter. He handed the pack to Jungkook who took it without question and did the same.

Jungkook released a sigh in disappointment, shaking his head a little as he said, “Whatever man, you say that every night.”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders as he took a drag and pulled it out between his index finger and thumb, “Then get the hint.”

His friend wasn’t listening anymore, choosing instead to stare at the building in front of him, dimly lit from all the lamp posts. It was just after sunset and the only students around were probably working on assignments like Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung took advantage of the art room to work privately and in a bigger space while Jungkook worked in the warehouse where he could work on his new sculpture. Taehyung couldn’t understand why Jungkook cared about whatever was going on at the library till he casually looked over too.

“She looks familiar,” Jungkook said pointing to you as you walked down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Taehyung looked too, you had a tote bag like most students around here and there was a butterfly clip in your hair but it still looked messy. Your hair was down earlier and at some point you decided to put it up and he realized now that he didn’t have a preference on how hair looks on someone. He likes the style you had earlier and the one you have now too because they enhance your features more.

“That’s Y/n,” Taehyung said casually as they went to the parking lot. Jungkook looked at him curiously before glancing back at you, “You know her?”

Taehyung didn’t have an answer for that so he didn’t give one, he just walked ahead wondering the same thing. “Let’s get a drink,” Taehyung finally gave in and Jungkook immediately cheered. “Yes! Okay, don’t worry, just one.”

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder… that is what every artist has ever been taught. Taehyung has never been able to disagree with a statement more than that one. There is not beauty everywhere, it is not as inclusive as one might think and to truly understand art in the many forms it could take, one needs to understand the meaning of genuine beauty.

It’s quite terrifying in a sense, for one to be able to lose control and fall for the Dionysian seduction and view beauty for what it truly is. It is a raw and exhilarating topic that cannot be defined by just looks or words but more the freedom of life, life is beautiful in its own twisted way and to accept that definition is to be able to portray that in what you do. That’s why Taehyung’s art tends to lean toward a more dark and twisted form. When he creates art he’s not just looking at creating something nice to look at or something with a hidden meaning that no one would ever truly understand. When he creates, he wishes to express human emotion through his work—he wishes to make others feel things they’ve never felt before and that is the beauty he is chasing after.

Beauty is not a person but a feeling and when he looks at you he seems to understand that better.

It’s not just your outward attractiveness that draws him in. It’s the terrifying beauty that you radiate in your gaze, in your mannerisms, in your writing. It intrigues him and if he could put you on a canvas and unravel everything inside you — your fears, your joys, your tears — he would but till then you’re nothing but a familiar stranger that invades his mind when he least expects it.

“Taehyung, your work is beautiful,” his professor said, “Everything you create is effortlessly perfect but…”

He waited with a bated breath, already not liking where this was getting. He watched closely to the way she tilted her head in curiosity, “It’s rather dark, don’t you think? Maybe hard for interpretation an—“

“It’s not made to be interpreted by anything but the way it is,” Taehyung said boldly, “Once art is set for others to create a new meaning for it, is it ever truly art?”

“I guess I am not understanding what you mean,” she said leaning forward against her desk.

Taehyung released a sigh like this conversation with his senior was tedious, “When you look at Picasso’s work, do you think he created it for others to understand? Or was that something that people began to believe? He created art that was unconstraining to himself and his life.”

“Yes but look at Salvador Dali, the entire aspect of surrealism that he used was to unleash the power of imagination and creativity. You can’t just shut your art into a small box for the sake of aesthetic,” she said and that made him scoff, his lip curled in distaste, “And let’s look at Monet? He’s practically what started the entire idea of Impressionism.”

“What it meant to him, how he viewed it at that moment, that was all,” Taehyung said, which made the advisor release a sign, “Claude Monet once said, everyone pretends to understand his art, as if it were necessary to understand when it is only necessary to love.”

“I’m afraid this conversation will go back and forth if we continue,” she said with a huff, already irritated by the way things are going, “The exhibition is in three months, in a month I’ll connect with you on how everything is looking and give you the rundown as well is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung shook his head and without a goodbye he was getting up from his seat and storming out. Not even a second after the chestnut double doors shut, did he find himself reaching into the pocket of his jeans to get his pack out. The cigarette sat perfectly between his lips as he blocked one side with the hand so the wind didn’t blow his lighter out and he lit the tip, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign just a couple feet away. He couldn’t help but mumble, “Stupid bitch,” under his breath once he finally left the building.

As he rounded the corner, something hit his chest and his free hand immediately the person steady in front of him.

Your hand was on his chest to keep from hitting him and as you looked up, your eyes widened just slightly. Taehyung didn’t say anything as he let you go, brushing against your side and moving around you to leave feeling your eyes on him. You watched him head the way you just came from and finally snapped out of it when you heard your friend call for you.

He turned to look for you seeing you already walking over to some tall and muscular guy. The guy gave you a dimpled smile as he followed after you, no longer in Taehyung’s peripheral.

“Maybe he has a point, Y/n,” Namjoon said as he walked with you to the bus stop, “If you’re struggling then maybe you should think about altering the character more.”

You shook your head in displeasure, “No, I’m not going to change him, I just need to be able to visualize his characteristics.”

Namjoon released a sigh as he pondered over what advice to give you, but came up blank, “I mean… maybe you just need some real inspiration from those around you. ”

The both of you went silent trying to find a solution and you looked up at him curiously. Namjoon would be an amazing reference for a character but he doesn’t fit the image you want him to. He was like light, he was kind hearted and charming and so unbelievably smart but that’s not how you envisioned the main character in your story. The kind of character you had in mind was supposed to act similar to… well, Taehyung. He’s supposed to be a bit mysterious, cold, not necessarily a likable character but someone they can’t help but be curious about.

“Namjoon,” you called his name and for a moment he grew hopeful to the idea that maybe you were thinking of studying him the way you do with others—even if he knew that would never happen. Instead, you came to a stop and looked up at him, “I forgot my laptop in the ffice, I’ve gotta go get it.”

His brows furrowed, looking down at your tote bag, “I’ll come wit—“

“No, you have to work, right?” You asked, already backing away from him, “I don’t want to make you late, I’ll just catch the next bus.”

Before he could argue, you were already taking off in a hurry back down the way the two of you came from. With a sigh he watched you leave wondering why he always seemed to be a couple steps behind you and never beside you. All he’s done since he met you was follow your lead in friendship and outside of it.

Even when the two of you had sex months ago it was always when you wanted and never when he did. If he even thought to ask, all you did was blow him off and then question him on if he’s seeing anyone at the moment. In the same second you would press your lips to his cheek and remind him how much you adored him even when you blew him off he always found the act of it a bit poetic.

He loved you, but it’s a love unreturned and if he wants to stay by you, it has to be with him at the back of your mind and never at the forefront.

With that understanding, he had no choice but to let you go back toward campus walking across fallen leaves and dead branches while he went to the bus alone.

Your legs had taken off before you could even decide where to go and in the end you found yourself heading back the way in which you met with Namjoon—and also the way you bumped into Taehyung. You were never much of the shy type even if it appeared that way, your friends always said you were the selective type—only choosing who to be outgoing with and even then it was rare and required a lot of work to get to you.

They had it easy, Jimin was a childhood friend and Namjoon was in the same writing department as you but that’s as far as your circle went. Well, no, there’s Yoongi too but he’s a pianist and these days he’s so busy with lessons and trips to the orchestra, you barely see him.

Like stated, you were selectively social and right now, you were choosing to find Taehyung so you could formally talk to him. It took you about ten minutes of mindlessly walking through the courtyard to locate him and when you did, you came to a halt. He was just a few feet away now, cigarette between his lips, crouched down against the wall of some historic looking building with castle-like elements and you know he saw you coming when he turned his head and looked right at you.

That was the push that had you walking toward him and saying, “Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down, eyes unable to help themselves as he looked up from your legs to your face. You wore a black fitted turtleneck underneath a brown sweater vest tucked into a black skirt. You wore long 70s style brown boots and mesh tights too. Your hair was pinned back with a hair clip and pins and your ears were lined with simple yet pretty earrings. When his gaze finally met yours, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you once more.

“My name is—“

“I know your name,” he said with a small glint in his eye, “Obviously.”

You didn’t pull away from his intense stare and watched him bring the cigarette back to his lips, “I thought it would be more appropriate to introduce myself.”

“Mm,” he exhaled looking down at the cement below his feet, flicking the end of the cigarette to let ash fall, “So what could I do for you, Y/n?”

He looked up once more and you bit your lip in thought, “If you are free, I wanted to see if you’d like to get a coffee with me.”

“I don’t like coffee,” he said, finally putting the thing out and standing up, “And it’s almost sunset.”

You blinked in surprise as he stood in front of you now but you didn’t back away, “Then we’ll just have dinner.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung swung his bag over his shoulder, “But I’m kind of busy, I’ve got somewhere to get to.”

He was already walking away to hide his look of surprise. He didn’t expect the two of you to ever really talk and he didn’t really know what to do. He ended up rejecting before he could even truly think it over. He imagined you as just a fantasy — nothing he could ever explore but that he could dream about. He just wanted to look and think about you but never know anything beyond what was on the surface—like a painting.

“And you can’t have a plus one?” You asked in your final effort to get closer to him completely unaware of what he thought of you. You watched him come to a stop, and for a moment you tried to imagine him contemplating. Taehyung turned to face you, “I’m not going anywhere fun.”

You stayed quiet as he went on, “And some might find it scary.”

It seemed like he was trying to warn you as if to let you back out of your own proposal but he wasn’t saying no and that was hopeful. You tilted your chin higher, “As long as you don’t plan on murdering me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

That made the corners of his lips turn upward in an arrogant smirk, “Okay, Y/n, follow me.”

The walk wasn’t too far from the college but the college was already a bit on the outskirts of the city. All you saw were green, dying hills as autumn threatened to take over and it took you a second to understand where he was taking you until he was leading the way down a steep hill toward an empty and cold graveyard. It was a straight line of jagged tombstones and overgrown plant life entwined around them. There were clear dirt paths leading down row after row of old graves and a few Angel statues but nothing too bad, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I told you, you might be scared,” Taehyung said as he walked parallel to the graveyard toward a tree that stood tall along the sloping hill, “But this is the best view of twilight, if you want, I could walk you back to campus.”

“No, it’s fine,” you cleared your throat deciding to walk ahead of him so you could be the one sitting upright against the tree. Taehyung dropped his backpack a few feet away from you and began getting his things out.

You didn’t question him, only observed the way he carried on like you weren’t even there. It’s not like you minded, you didn’t have any real agenda to get him to spend time with you and frankly, you felt a bit relieved to see that he wasn’t trying to figure out what you wanted. It was unspoken the way the two of you seemed to think similarly and brought out your tools.

Taehyung didn’t say anything when he flipped his sketchbook open and found a charcoal he could use as he began to sketch without much thought into it. He even made himself comfortable by lying back, using the angle of the hill to help him not lay horizontally and he bent a knee up as a sort of flat surface he could rest his book on. There was a small breeze that carried through his linen shirt and brown trousers but he wasn’t much worried about himself.

He was more worried about you, who had asked to spend time with him but had no real plan to do so. He’ll admit, when he said no it was just on reflex from all the other times he’s out right rejected others before but he only thought it over because he’s been curious of you two. When you told him you would join him for a moment he debated saying no again because this was his favorite place to be to watch the sunset but it wasn’t all that normal. He even tried to warn you and offer to take you back when you saw the graveyard but you didn’t even seem to care when you sat down. Now that he’s looking at you up close, he can see the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you scribbled in your journal, already feeling inspiration.

It’s now that Taehyung is realizing why he’s been so curious. He finds you beautiful, he’s sure he’s mentioned that before, but he finds you beautiful in an unsettling way. Just looking at you seemed to send him into a wave of emotion like you’re exactly what he’s wished to create on canvas. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were working away to make another sketch, eyes on you as he worked.

“What are you writing in that little journal of yours?” He found himself asking after some time. The sketch was rough and yet it was so refined that there was no mistaking what it could be. It was a monochromatic sketch of you with your back against the tree, legs straight before you and your hair covering your face with the howl of the wind. Your hands looked delicate when you wrote and you looked so lost in your own work that managed to capture that same essence in his drawing.

When you first looked at him, your eyes went down to the pack of cigarettes he was now messing with and out of curiosity he raised it to you as if asking if you wanted one. Moving to sit forward, you took one and held it between your lips as he dug into his pocket for his zippo lighter, flipping it open and bringing it toward your face to light the cigarette. He watched curiously as you leaned back a little, took an inhale/exhale, and said, “I’ll tell you if you show me what you’ve been doing in that little sketchbook of yours.”

For some reason a small smile came to his face as he laid on his side using his elbow for support and reached over to hand you the sketchbook. You took it with a sense of excitement that quickly turned into disbelief as you looked at it. The back of your index finger hovered over it but never touched for fear that you would smudge it or worse—ash, and when you finally handed it back to him, wordlessly, his cold fingers brushing against sending a warm current down your arm.

At this exchange, Taehyung moved to sit up, not bothering to brush off any loose grass blades off his linen shirt and read over a short passage.

A certain coolness in his gaze that made him appear cruel.

A charming aura that seemed timeless, not modern but ancient like he was created from every classic literature known to man.

His gaze, his smile, his voice—all deep like red velvet.

The list went on, each short sentence followed by another in what one could assume was meant to describe him. He didn’t say anything either as he handed it back to you the same way you had done with his sketchbook. Neither of you were looking for critique or praise, more so acknowledgement of what the other had been doing and once you had it, it was enough.

Taehyung stared forward as the line of bright Orange finally vanished from the sky and a cool blue clouded it. The atmosphere shifted now as darkness began to swim across the sky and you both knew it was time to go. Nothing was said as you both stood up with your things and even less was brought up on your walk back to campus.

It wasn’t until you stood at the bus stop that Taehyung decided to ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket in his trousers followed by a pen as he scribbled something down before handing it to you, “Meet me here at 8:00pm.”

You didn’t have to say anything for Taehyung to know you would show and he left without much of a goodbye.

The place you arrived to at 8:00pm on the dot wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it wasn’t much of a surprise either—it was a warm record bar. The one thing that did seem to surprise you was Taehyung’s choice in music where he preferred jazz over classical. The bar was dimly lit only by shaded, vintage lamps and the small yellow candles near all the booze. The walls were lined with vinyls and the deep mahogany trimming gave the record bar a sort of dark academic charm to it.

When you found Taehyung he was sitting at a small round table fit for two and he had a book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. He wore his usual metal wiring rounded glasses and his dirty blonde hair seemed quite soft and full of life. The dark brown sweater he wore matched well with his tan slacks and you didn’t miss the way eyes would fall on him. It was this charming, educated college boy with a rich father sort of energy that radiates off him, but also the clear look of disinterest written all over his face and it made people curious.

You debated calling his name to let him know you were here but when he looked up in time to catch you walking his way, you were aware that he had been waiting for you and checking the door every couple seconds. Taehyung didn’t shy away from taking in the sight of you in an olive green maxi dress paired with a thin white cardigan tied together at the top of your breasts and below your collarbone. You wore black boot heels this time and when you sat down in front of him he couldn’t help but look at your face now.

“You’re late,” he said as he closed his book and set it to the side. You didn’t even bother to look at the Swiss watch on your wrist as you said, “It’s 8:00, like you said.”

“Yes but what I meant was 7:55 which should have translated to 7:45,” he said annoyingly arrogant as he slid a menu toward you, “As per the rules of a first date.”

His tone was serious as was his body language and yet you could see the hint of amusement in his attempt to hide a smile. You smiled softly, setting your bag down next to you, “I was unaware this was a first date.”

“So you assumed this was the second?” Taehyung had a teasing tone now, “I, personally, would not call an evening together at the cemetery a first date.”

“I do say, I’m a bit surprised to even know you consider this a date after we barely talked at all yesterday,” you said as a waitress came over with a customer service smile. Conversation floated between you two with ease.

“Are we ready to order?”

Taehyung looked at you but you weren’t all that hungry so he ordered a single slice of pastry for the two of you to share, “Yesterday was just to enjoy and accept the presence of one another, tonight is to communicate and learn.”

Taehyung never cared much for investing time into someone he was with, usually if he ever showed any interest in someone or was short lived. He’s not sure what would happen exactly but once the excitement of pining for someone romantically wore off… he just did not care anymore. There was too much to handle and he didn’t have time for any of it—not the clinginess, the crying, the whining. God, the whining got to him.

Why do you ignore me so much?

You’re always too busy painting to notice me?

Taehyung, I just want you to spend time with me.

It was the constant whining that he hated because they just did not get that he was completely devoted to his art and nothing else mattered as much as it did. Yes… maybe the small ounce of excitement he felt helped inspire him but… well he does not need whoever he slept with anymore.

The infatuation had worn off and he’s back to being alone again but now he’s a little too curious about you. Hence, why he asked you out first and in such a haste.

“Alright,” you said, “So then tell me something small, for instance, what time did you arrive? 7:45?”

“7:30 actually,” Taehyung said as he lifted his mug of hot tea to his lips, “I had business to take care of around campus and I didn’t want to make the trip back home.”

“Well if you asked for my number I would’ve arrived sooner.”

“It takes away the romantic aspect of waiting for the other to arrive without hearing from them—maybe I’ll write you a letter instead,” he teased. You just laughed softly and asked, “I didn’t peg you as much of a romantic. And what business?”

“Nothing too important.” Taehyung said vaguely and despite your curiosity you didn’t push him to answer. The corner of his lips raised as he looked at you, looked at him and found himself saying, “But as for being a romantic? It depends on who you ask.”

You focused on what he said about that instead of what his business was and that made him happy. What he did was not that important but it was necessary after what had happened with his advisor. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she had told him and in the end he made and impulsive decision to gift her something that might make her see things from his point of view. Of course it was slightly biased but he believed his piece really explained his views on beauty enough for her to understand.

Taehyung delivered two paintings to her inbox earlier. The first one was a more finished painting of you, still slightly distorted and a bit dark but there was no hiding the romantic element that radiated off of it. He called it ‘Genuine Beauty’. The second painting was a distorted and bright picture of his professor with exaggerated features that weren’t pleasing to the eye and he called it, ‘Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder’.

A true sentient on what he thought of her words. He wanted to know how she would twist the grotesque image of herself into something beautiful.

“What have you been up to aside from writing me?” Taehyung asked, looking at you with interest.

“Aside from that, I’m afraid not much else,” you confessed, “I’ve been in a sort of dry spell trying to understand my character.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, it’s a him and he’s similar to you.”

He listened closely to each word you said, taking in the curve of your mouth when you talked and the way you gestured with your hands. He’ll admit, the character did seem very similar to him so he can understand your curiosity in him and the fact that you seemed to lose yourself in your craft didn’t go unnoticed by him. He simply nodded his head and replied with short answers when asked.

In the end, he offered the only thing he could, “Let me be your case of study then, and in return you’ll be mine.”

You smiled this time, a small arrogant smile as you said, “Will you paint me like one of your French girls?”

He understood the reference and found himself saying, “If you write me like one of the lovers in your poems.”

By the end of the night you found yourself in the back of a taxi driving straight to his place under the pretense of another drink. Conversation seemed to flow with ease between you and it ranged from Davinci to Monet, Shakespeare to Milton and whatever was in between. Even when Taehyung asked such a heavy question, you didn’t seem to struggle to find an answer.

“Do you believe in love?” He had asked as the cab stopped in front of a house similar to an upstate New York townhome. He had you by the hand helping you out of the car and held onto you as he led you up the stone path.

“I have to, I’m a writer,” you told him and he seemed to pull you into him more.

“But what is it that you believe it to be?”

The question did make you think a little bit. It’s not that you thought Taehyung had an ulterior motive in asking you such a thing; it’s not like the two of you were seriously into the idea of it but you wanted to give him the right answer—one that truly described you and your ideals.

You didn’t answer his question right away as he let you into his home which was no different than what you imagined it to be. His apartment was in an old building turned into luxury Victorian styled apartments with modern eclectic touches. It was a put-together mess of sketches and canvases littered around the place. The floor was made of a dark, polished hardwood and his furniture all seemed worn through with velvet cushions and engraved wooden trimmings. He had floor-to-ceiling bay windows with twine hanging across them and papers clipped on with laundry pins to dry. There was a warm feel to the place and it had everything to do with his dedication to earthy tones and shades of Morocco red.

There were painting supplies everywhere from scattered charcoals and cans of linseed oil for his paints. There were stacks of literature books and various art ones piled high on nearly every surface and yet it all seemed to be organized to what you could assume only he could understand. Taehyung didn’t even seem to mind the clutter as he chose instead to ask, “Red or White?”

“Red.” You responded quite simply before resuming your studying of his place, the fireplace on one wall was surrounded by canvases and books—same as the vintage bookshelf and for a moment you wondered if his bedroom looked any similar. The thought vanished quickly when you got the smallest hint of which room that might be from the open door down the hall. He had plain gray sheets on an unmade bed and the furniture in there was scarce, like he barely spent any time there and if he did it wasn’t to sleep—the bags under his eyes told you so.

“Have you thought of an answer to my question yet?” Taehyung asked, reminding you yet again of what he asked earlier. He handed you a wine glass and you took it with a nod in gratitude as he left you to find a record to play.

“I’ve had an answer all along, I just wasn’t sure how you would feel about it,” you said and you could see him smile as he moved the needle over the start of the vinyl, Nocturnes, Op 9 began to play.

“I’m not looking for anything in particular, just an insight on what you think,” he said honestly and with a small sigh you decided to tell him.

“I think love is more so… a choice than an emotion?” You finally said as you watched him take a seat on the floor near his coffee table instead of the velvet couch behind him. He motioned for you to join him, “How so?”

“Anyone can feel love at any given moment but it is fleeting,” you sat down, knees nearly touching his, “Tell me, have you ever felt in love before?”

Your question seemed to catch him off guard yet he answered as bluntly as he would regarding anything else, “Only with my paintings.”

“And that had been a choice, to continue, right?” You asked, “Love like every emotion is temporary and inconsistent. Yes, doing certain things or being with certain people might invoke these feelings but once that has dwindled it is your choice to remain in that constant state of loving something—or someone. I love writing, I always have because it is my choice. I choose to subject myself to the hardships that come with my work even at times where I think I hate it. Even at times when I choose to give up I think about the joy it brings me, the emotions that pour out of me and onto every letter and word I put down on paper. I choose to love writing, I choose to devote myself to it and I choose to put it above anything else in the world, even my own relationships.”

Taehyung could see it in your eyes how strongly you felt about it. Your answer had gone slightly off topic but he understood your reference to it in every word you spew, “So when I say I believe in love… I don’t mean it in regards to a feeling that transpires throughout inconsistently, but I mean it as a choice to continue to feel that way even when it hurts and I can’t take it any more.”

A silence seemed to drag on between you and for a moment you wondered if you said too much and sounded too stupid. Taehyung seemed to inhale and exhale at once, “Well, I do say, we have very similar ideals. I don’t think I could’ve put it into better words than a writer even if I tried.”

You couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind your wine glass, “Maybe you’ll paint them instead.”

“Maybe, I’ll paint you instead,” Taehyung said with a pale yet serene expression like he was scared to speak his words and exhilarated by them all the same.

How could someone seem to get lost and sound so dazed when talking about writing? Did writing mean as much to you as his art did to him? Is that why there was never a need for many words to be spoken between you? Was that why he was able to enjoy your presence so long and so quickly when before you would never even speak? Was there always this underlying connection between your minds and how you viewed art and your world?

You rested your glass on the table as you took in his living room again and all its character, there was a set of paintbrushes just laying on his table and you reached for one. The wood was smooth between your fingertips as you twisted it before looking up at him with a curious gaze, “With one of these?”

Taehyung simply nodded his head watching you lift your skirt up just enough to expose a bit of leg and you brushed the art tool against your calf, “It’s soft.”

His tongue ran over his lips and he leaned forward to gently take the brush back. You were nearing an apology for taking it without asking him first but he simply scooted closer to you on the blanket he laid beneath you and placed your legs over his, skirt of your dress rising even further until he was running the brush over the curve of your knee, “I use it to blend shadows, like this.”

The brush felt soft against your skin, sending tingles down your spine as he ran it over you in circular motions, eyes on yours.

“I tried painting once,” you said as his finger slowly traded with the brush until he was softly touching you, “I wasn’t that good, I couldn’t portray the right picture.”

Taehyung just smiled as he felt you hand go over his while taking the brush back until you were tracing the curve of his wrist, “Paint with your words, and show me you’d write me, like your character.”

“He is very similar to you,” you said, “In almost every aspect and I didn’t realize that until today.”

“Mm,” Taehyung hummed in content when you lifted the brush toward the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, teasing him without realizing it. You seemed to use the brush against him without much thought of what you were doing and how it affected him. You should know, though, that the feel of his art tool against his skin would feel good to him. The soft bristles tickled his collarbone, “How would he make love?”

That seemed to catch you by surprise as you slowed your touch to look up at him. He just bit his lip, hand on your leg caressing it as he waited for your response. Without missing a beat, you said, “Slowly, starting with a sweet kiss.”

A small smirk came to his face, one that only he could pull off without looking cocky. He looked smart and pretty with his glasses and blonde hair, when he spoke he made it sound poetic and when he looked at you it felt like he was focused on whatever was beneath the surface. You watched him push his glasses up the slope of his nose and before you knew it, he was leaning closer, lithe fingers coming up to touch your chin and tilt your jaw.

Although you knew what was coming, there was no denying the small second of hesitation that coursed through you when his lips so tenderly pressed against yours, his voice low as he asked, “Like this?”

You licked your lips despite the extremely small space between yours and his and without the ounce of hesitation from earlier, your hand came up to his neck where you pulled him into you for a real kiss. It started off slowly just like the two of you knew it would but there was no denying the desire that laced throughout it. At first all that happened was your mouths moving against each other, getting used to the idea of kissing — something neither of you have done in a while. Then, it became more feverish. If possible, you seemed to move closer with your hand on his thigh to support yourself. You were on your knees leaning into him and he had a single hand against the floor to support his sitting position while the other was cupping your chin for the best angle. There was a growing intensity between your mouths, lips moving more forcefully now, saliva gradually increasing when you felt his tongue make a swiping motion against your lips.

“Or like this?” His voice had become more hoarse with need. He enjoyed feeling the way your body seemed to lean toward his and he seemed to ask, “What would he do next?”

“It’s not what he would do next,” you said as you moved without your own violation and trailed your lips along the curve of his jaw, “But what would happen to him next.”

Taehyung’s head seemed to tip back as he used both of his hands to keep him upright while you moved between his patted legs to kiss down his neck. He licked at his lips, slowly blinking at the first feel of your tongue licking his ear lobe before you sucked it into your mouth making a tingle run down his spine. Your warm breath tickling his ear made his breath bitch and it didn’t take you long to realize that you had found his weak spot. Unable to help yourself you brought your mouth back to his for a kiss that was much needier than any of the ones prior.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s throat was dry and it made his voice raspier than usual, “Touch me more.”

The words surprised you. You didn’t take him for much of a womanizer but you didn’t think he would seem this touch starved. The last person you had slept with had been your dear friend, Namjoon, and when you realized feelings were beg bring to get involved you were to end the rendezvous that had transpired between you two in an effort to save the friendship and his feelings. You couldn’t explain why you could never see him as more than a friend—and you couldn’t explain why it was so easy to view Taehyung as something more. Your mind had been drawn to him before your body and yet it all felt the same.

You began to crawl away from him and in an effort to keep this going, he went after you with another kiss before your hand touched his chest to keep him in place. It got to the point where Taehyung wasn’t sure if it was the cashmere brown sweater he wore that made his body heat up, or if it was being too close to the fireplace but he felt himself begin to break into a sweat.

He stretched his legs out before him when he got the hint of what you wanted to do watching you shimmy down until you were nearly eye level with his pants and the evident bulge becoming more prominent with each passing second. Taehyung was not ashamed of how quickly you seemed to get to him and his body’s reaction to you. Sex was a normal thing, it was poetic and passionate if done with the right person and he hasn’t done it in a while—a long while. It was completely normal for him to release a light gasp when your hand grazed his inner thigh just inching toward his growing erection.

The two of you made eye contact once more, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyelids low in a lustful gaze that matched your own. There was a strong attraction toward each other — infatuation if you will — and you can’t say there’s romantic feelings between you but there’s no denying that there has been the underlying sexual tension that rose from a clear understanding of each other’s devotion to your work. It turns you on to know he seems to connect with your ideals.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had moved a hand behind you until he was pulling on the back of your head to drag you back into a needy kiss. Your hands had already gone toward his slacks and you had been unzipping the front as the two of you made out once more. Taehyung’s hand fell back to the ground with a groan as you yanked at his underwear making him lift his hips enough for them to come down with his pants. A small hissing sound left his lips as his hard dick finally made its appearance, springing free of its right confines, hard enough to already angle toward his navel.

Taehyung was not ashamed by the way his stomach caved in with a deep breath at the first feel of your hand wrapping around his tip spreading the beads of precum that had already dribbled out the slit. His tongue was in your mouth, sliding against yours with you swallowing each groan he let out when you began to stroke his length slowly from base to tip. Like earlier, when you tried pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath, he was following after you to stop you from breaking apart from him.

A thin line of drool connected your mouth to his as you finally pulled back, biting down on your lip. He watched you look down at his exposed member, leaning down until you were face to face with it. His long fingers curled around your hair, slowly pushing your head down just a middle until he felt the first tender lick of your tongue along his tip. Taehyung’s entire body reacted to the way you tentatively licked his head teasingly making a small shudder travel right through him.

You have to say, Taehyung has one of the prettiest dicks you’ve ever seen and you just couldn’t help but want to savor it. It was just so pretty and you found yourself wanting to play with it some more. Your hand held onto him at his base as you ran your tongue down the side of his length lathering it in drool to aid your closed fist.

His brows scrunched together as he attempted to watch what you were doing. He could feel your hand jerking him off as you teasingly kissed up his side and tip, tongue swirling around his slit that leaked precum. He just couldn’t see you over the bulk of his sweater.

With an annoyed huffed, he released your hair to pull at his sweater with one arm as he brought it up toward his chest and tucked it under his jaw. Just as he had it fixed, a low and deep sound vibrating in his chest feeling your lips finally surround his tip, sucking gently before relaxing and taking more of him inside. You made yourself relax so you could loosen your jaw enough to accommodate his length as you began to suck him off, tongue licking along the bottom side everytime you bobbed your head up and down.

You had a firm hand on his upper thigh as the other was at his base against his pelvic bone to hold his hips down and let your mouth do all the work. His sweater slipped from under his chin making him groan as he threw his head back, “So good.”

He kept his gaze on the ceiling taking in the feel of your warm and tight mouth taking his cock so deeply. You looked up at his stomach trying to see his face but with the way his head was tilted back, you just couldn’t. All you could see was his chest rise and lower with each breathy sigh he let out, ducking his cock deeper down your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you moved your hand to his navel, feeling his breathing better and he needed to see what you looked like with his dick in your mouth.

He held the end of his sweater between his teeth as he stared down the expanse of his torso to where you laid between his legs swallowing around his cock with a dark look in your eyes that had him muffling a moan.

His hips bucked helplessly into you making you swallow more and more of his length till you couldn’t breathe properly anymore and needed to get off. The hand you still had on his dick began to stroke him, wrist flicking on each upward stroke to make your palm run along his slit while you caught your breath. You watched him in complete awe, he was so hard and his balls tightened against that you couldn’t help but lick between them.

"Fuck," the sweater made it hard to hear him as hw sank his teeth into it feeling it begin to moisten annoyingly so bur he was not going to miss the sight of you kissing below his cock to his balls.

When you finally decided to take him back in your mouth there was no slow build up, it was quick and sudden as you took him down your throat to the point where you gagged around him. The way he bit into the sweater looked like a restraint and he looked so pretty with the fire reflecting off his tan, bare chest and his blonde hair was just a knotted mess from how often he shook it.

“Y/n, you feel so good,” You were never much of a talker during sex, especially if it wasn’t genuine and just superficial dirty talk but he sounded so good moaning your name even if you couldn’t hear him properly.

There wasn’t much warning aside from the incessant moaning that fell from his lips and was swallowed in cashmere for you to know he was close. His hips bucked messily into your mouth, cock twitching with the need to just let go and when you met your mouth with your fist jerking off the rest of him… he just couldn’t take anymore.

Taehyung’s head fell back with a dry moan as the urge to cum got the best of him and he let go in your mouth. You didn’t seem to mind either, once the surprise of the suddenness had worn off, you didn’t hesitate but to try and swallow as much of the thick semen as you could, not at all bothered by the taste of it. Taehyung had to let his sweater go to breathe heavily through his parted lips as he used his elbows to sit himself up in the blanket, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Mm,” you hummed, proud of yourself for making him cum down your throat and you sat up to look at him. Taehyung met your eyes with his feeling heavy with need as he licked his dry lips before forcing himself to sit up properly so he could drag you into a deep kiss. You released a light mewl in surprise, kissing him back eagerly with his hand below your ear on your neck guiding you to angle your head one way while he went the other.

There was not a single part of him that felt bothered at the taste of himself on your tongue, if anything it only made him want you more so he could repay you for treating him so well. Once you had gotten lost in your little makeout, it was easy for you to follow his lead as he moved over you to get you to lie down in his place. The only time he pulled away from you was to finally free himself from the confines of his stupid sweaters and kick off his pants the rest of the way. It didn’t take you long to get what he wanted and you hurried to remove your cardigan feeling the straps of your dress begin to slip off your shoulders. Taehyung dragged you to him, kissing along the exposed skin of your collarbone and shoulder, hands sliding down your back till they could inch the dress down and off of you, making you take it off through the bottom so he wouldn’t have to pull away again.

Your bra and underwear were made of a thin crème colored lace that looked pretty against your complexion and soft between his fingertips as he ran his hands over your covered breasts that had been taunting him all night.

A quiet gasp left your lips due to the way his lips kissed down the valley of your breaths, soft hair tickling your neck. Taehyung’s hands held onto your sides, sliding them up to the end of your bra, feeling you arch your back into his affections until he was able to move them under your to grab at the clasp. Once he was able to unhook it, he tugged it off your arms letting you throw it to the side and dragged him into another kiss when he cupped your bare tits in his warm hands, using his thumbs to rub over your hardening nipples.

“Taehyung,” you whined softly against him, eyes on the ceiling when he began to leave love bites along your neck, traveling his wet mouth lower and lower down your stomach.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, making his way between your legs while his hands groped your chest loving the softness of your skin under his rough painter’s hands.

As Taehyung slipped further between your legs till his face was near your spread legs, he looked down. The lace underwear was transparent enough for him to see just a bit underneath and he could see a small shadow of slick over where your cunt should be. He tried to look up at you through his blonde fringe and you sat forward enough to brush it back, smiling as he pressed a teasing kiss against the hood of your clit over your underwear. You lied back down letting yourself relax feeling his fingers hook under the hem of your panties till he was tugging it off and move your thighs over his shoulders so he four fit snugly against you.

Taehyung didn’t waste time teasing you, he had already been so turned on that not even cumming down your throat was able to calm his raging hormones. He just wanted to have you as soon as he could, any way he could, and that meant with his tongue stiffening as he parted your folds around him before licking flatly toward your clit. A light moan left your lips as your clit immediately reacted to stimulation, a small gush of slick pushing out of your pussy with arousal. Taehyung was not inexperienced in the art of making someone cum undone on his to hue and that was becoming more and more evident with the way he made out with your cunt like it was your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you threw your head back, out of breath, as his tongue began to flick messily at your clit while hands slid further down your inner thighs until he was using his thumbs to pull your folds apart for him. You could feel your wetness begin to drip further down but he was quick to leave your clit and lap his tongue against your wet entrance where your arousal seemed to form a puddle at. With the way his thumbs kept you open, you felt everything.

Every now and then his thumb would teasingly push in just a little more than before, acting like he didn’t even notice he was doing it while he hungrily sucked on your clit, tugging it between his lips. His thumb was rubbing against your labia, pressing into it, teasing your entrance every now and then by pushing into it until he felt your legs begin to tremble around him. Unable to help himself, he got a big more rough, tonguing your clit with such effort that his head shook with eagerness, swallowing your slick and pressing his face into your cunt to taste all that you had to offer.

“Oh,” you breathed out shakily, hand sinking into his hair when he nosed at your clit, tongue joining his finger as he thrusted it into you, “I-I, oh god.”

“Mhm,” Taehyung nodded, urging you to let go of him and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Your thighs tried shutting but his head didn’t let you and instead you pressed them against him making him groan with need, eyes nearly rolling as he doubled his efforts.

Your throat became dry as you planted heavily, hips bucking against his mouth until finally you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. His motions did not miss a beat in licking everything you had to offer as your orgasm came in a wave.

“S-so, good,” you breathed out tiredly feeling your pussy walls clenching around nothing and as much as you wanted to just be done, you needed him inside you. When he came up to kiss you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you so his hard cock rutted against your wet pussy. The taste of each other on your tongues was what made it easy for you two to want to keep going without the thought of repercussions. His hand slid between your sweaty bodies to hold his cock, lining it up with your entrance, bumping into your clue as he refused to break away from the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you looked at each other with such need, such want that your lips didn’t spend too long apart from each other.

Your tongue met his just as his cock met the inside of your pussy, taking it slowly as he stroked himself with your slick to ease himself in better. His dick was rock hard, and your pussy was so fucking wet he couldn’t help but moan into your mouth as you took him in.

Taehyung has to hold onto you with a hand on your waist to keep you from sliding away from him too much as the blanket wrinkles on his wooden floor. He had his other tucked by the side of your head looking down at you lovingly as he finally began to thrust, “Tell me if it’s too much, love.”

“Mhm,” you said softly, legs falling apart even more to accommodate his as he dug his knees into the floor so he use his hips to fuck you better. A groan left his lips at the expert roll of your pelvis against his taking more and more of his length inside your tight walls.

“You make me feel so full,” you moaned gently into his ear as he dropped his head down against your neck to try and ignore the fact that your pussy around his dick without any protective layer between them felt so fucking good. You were already so close and he’s barely started. He fucked you slowly but firmly, getting himself used to being inside you and sucking on your neck, his hand left your hip to cup your breast once more and you gasped when he pinched your nipple.

“So tight,” Taehyung breathed out heavily with a single touch thrust that had your walls tightening around him, “So good for me.”

He did it again, and once again drew another moan out of you, repeating his thrusts more roughly than before until you were moaning out a string of his name.

Taehyung was well endowed and you never doubted that for even a second. He knew how to have sex, not just to fuck, but to have sex. It wasn’t just loud groans and rough thrusts. He was sensual, he kissed your neck, whispered sweet words of praise in your ear, touch your body as he fucked you almost passionately—unlike the usual guys you hook up with.

“It’s like you were made for me,” Taehyung groaned, brows scrunched together in concentration as he pulled back to sit and swing your right leg over him to press against your left until you were nearly lying on your side. He laid down next to you, curving his body against yours and lifting your leg back and held it up with his knee as he fucked you from the side. His lips were against your ear, whispering, “Just for me, like my own creation.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, “Just for you, please Taehyung, I’m so close.”

You looked straight out of a vintage erotica film. His apartment was warm due to the fireplace and comforting because of the classical music playing. The moon looked over you as you had sex, nearly love making, lying on your sides with his body cuddled into yours, fucking you with his cock while groping your breasts in his hands. You had to angle your head back and then your neck to kiss him and he swallowed your mouth with his, thrusts getting tougher as he curled around you, “Me too, love, all for you.”

“So paint me,” you moaned, fucking back against him.

For a moment he wondered if you meant on a canvas, or with his cock in your pussy, but he realized he would gladly do both if you let him. Your hand slid back to guide his hips into yours, “Cum, Taehyung, inside me, please.”

“Oh god,” a low growl left his lips as he dug his face into your hair, “Fuck, Y/n, d-don’t tempt me.”

“Do it,” your hand came up to his hair now, dragging his head toward yours until your lips met in a messy kiss, “I’m going to cum, Tae, please.”

It wasn’t a good idea. You were on the pill but he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he wasn’t wearing a condom and he wanted to fill you with so much cum that he painted you white.

“Mhm,” he moaned when you tugged on his bottom lip between your teeth and his hand pinched your hips, “Cum, Y/n, please—oh fuck.”

The only thing that came from you two was the sound of skin slapping as the urge to cum overtook you both and you were fucking like rabbits in heat. Nothing but animalistic grunts left him as he finally felt the flood of release you let go around with him with a whine of his name and before he knew it, he was cumming.

You immediately felt full with his release as it joined yours, cock pulsing inside you as he waited a moment to reel his emotions back in, sweaty forehead pressed against yours, “So good.” He hugged you closely, breathing heavily into your neck, softly kissing your skin affectionately.

It took you both some time to regain awareness of what had just happened and you lied on the fur blanket he had tossed on the floor. The fire sizzled behind you and some classical song [you were ashamed to admit you didn’t know] was playing. Taehyung seemed to be more in control of himself now and reached up to his small table in search of his pack. Once he had a cigarette between his lips, he lay back down next to you to catch his breath, pressing it to yours next.

There was a sort of glow to your skin, your eyes shined with the night sky reflecting through the windows. Light came from the fire not far behind and a small dim lamp in the corner yet the moon was still casted over you two.

His eyes traced your features once more and before he knew it, he was saying something unexpected, “She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.”

Despite the way your heart seemed to stop, your brows furrowed, “What?”

Taehyung took another drag of his cigarette, “Who wrote that? ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen’ I read it somewhere… ‘With stars in her eyes’.”

Your eyes seemed to widen as you thought it over for a second. A sense of realization flooded you but even knowing you might be right, you still shyly asked, “Virgina Woolf?”

“Yes, I believe so, ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, with stars in her eyes and veils in her hair.’ I read it years ago,” Taehyung stared out at the moon through the bay windows, “Anyways, it just came to mind, and reminded me of you.”

There was a cloud of smoke drifting into nothing like they were his words being absorbed all around you. After that a silence seemed to fill the room and it was so calming in fact that you found yourself lulled to sleep against his chest.

It wasn’t until hours later when you had woken to loud noises, did you realize that he had not had the luxury of peaceful post-sex sleep.

The first thing you had noticed in your haze of sleep was the sky still blue out and the fire still crackling behind you. The second was that you still slept on the floor and Taehyung was not beside you anymore. It took you some time to realize all the noise that had woken you up was coming from him and his quick brush strokes.

Taehyung had a pair of jeans on and a smock. He didn’t even bother with a shirt, just slipped the smock over his bare chest and he sat on the floor with a pallet full of paint in his hands as he did soft strokes on his canvas. He was so focused that he didn’t seem to mind his glasses which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, lips slightly parted in concentration and eyes bouncing around his painting.

You wondered what this meant for you. You didn’t know what time it was but the way he worked so diligently didn’t even make you want to stay, what if it would bother him? You don’t want to do that and he seems to have already forgotten you were there and what you had just done. With a small sigh you looked around for all of your things, finishing getting dressed and in search of your shoes and bag.

Taehyung’s strokes were fast and agile, he didn’t even have to think of how he was painting, he was just moving mindlessly and mixing all the right colors and blending in all the right places. You took a seat on the sofa trying to put your boots back on.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked but his eyes never left the canvas. You could barely hear him over the sound of the record player still playing and it took you a second to know he was even talking to you.

You looked up curiously, “Um… it’s late, I should probably go, I don’t want to disturb your work.”

You were very understanding actually. There are many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night to write and you didn’t waste time on thinking of anything else while doing it so if Taehyung was the same about his painting then you didn’t want to bother him.

Taehyung pushed his glasses up with the tip of his brush as he finally looked at you, “You won’t disturb me. Stay.”

He watched as you brought your lower lip between your teeth in thought before saying, “Seriously Tae, I don’t mind leaving. You’re working, I understand.”

“But I mind,” Taehyung said in his deep voice that sounded even deeper this late with the fire in the fireplace still crackling and Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 14 playing in the background. You didn’t say anything for a moment and he ran a hand through his messy hair, a small paint streak coating a strand, “Won’t you stay, Y/n? I’ve been in a slump and right now it just hit me all at once and I think it’s because of you. Please, won’t you stay?”

“Can I watch?”

Taehyung did not hesitate to nod his head and motion for you to sit on the floor next to him so you moved quickly to do so.

By the end of the night you watched him paint until dawn with your head resting against his back adoringly. His brush strokes were hypnotizing and the way he captured the light perfectly had you in awe, especially when you realized it was a painting of you.

It inspired you the way he was so devoted to his work and it reminded you of yourself.

Your days carried on as usual after that night with Taehyung. The only differences being ones that involved him. For instance, he has called you a couple times —he’s completely against the act of texting. It’s never anything major, usually to ask how your day has been or to get coffee. There was no sign of an actual relationship but it was close to it.

Today you had your shared anatomy class and he sat next to you instead of behind you like he normally would.

You’re not very fond of the fact that he’s distracting you more than you would like him to but it’s something you can’t explain. Your pen scribbled away in your yellow page notebook with word after word just piecing together effortlessly. Taehyung was utterly fascinated by it all, sometimes you wouldn’t even look down but your pen seemed to never fully lift off the page. You filled page after page in the three hour class, eyes on the professor but nothing you wrote down had to do with what he was teaching.

Every now and then you would look over at him and your eyes would meet, he would raise a brow and you would give him a smile, before looking down to write.

“I don’t think you heard a single thing he said today,” Taehyung said once the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall side by side. From the way you stared off into space, lips moving every now and then as if mouthing silent words, he knew you weren’t listening. He doubts you meant to ignore him but clearly you seemed to be in your own world right now, just thinking about writing and writing and he gets it.

You weren’t thinking of anything else, and he knows this because he had to grab onto your waist and pull you back to keep you from walking right into the pouring rain just outside. You seemed to snap back into reality and looked around, “Did you say something?”

Taehyung was opening his umbrella for you, pulling you under it beside him, “I’ve written notes for you, you seemed a bit distracted to take them yourself today.”

Your eyes slowly widened in surprise as it finally dawned on you that you had spent the last three hours doing nothing but writing about him. You came to a sudden stop and he waited there beside you with the rain pounding on his umbrella. With a small sigh, he let go of you to rummage through his bag with his free hand and took out his notebook, “I wrote two of everything.”

“Taehyung,” you said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug, “But you were so lost in your writing I didn’t want anything disturbing you. I had no problem with it, I’m a fast writer and a good listener.”

“Thank you,” you finally began to walk again now that you couldn’t bear the cold standing in one place, “I am bad at focusing on anything else when I write.”

“I understand,” he had to speak up so you could hear him over the rain, “And if you do not think I would be a bother, maybe you’ll let me watch you write more?”

“You’ll get bored,” you said as the two of you walked toward his car, a vintage Chevrolet Corvette that belonged to his grandfather.

“Watching you?” He asked, holding the door open for you, “Never.”

Your apartment was how he pictured it—books and papers scattered everywhere. You were still much neater than him but not by much, clearly the two of you focused too much on your craft that it’s completely taken over everything.

Your place was small yet spacious and well furnished with vintage chairs and mahogany bookshelves. There was a slight clutter of books upon books and dead plants that didn’t get enough sun with the curtains closed. It was warm and had your lovely scent. There was a stack of papers on a desk next to a laptop and an expensive looking typewriter.

There wasn’t much of a conversation going on between you, the last time you said something to him was when you asked him if he needed a drink. Your back was to him and he spent about an hour or so sitting alone on the daybed as he drew in his sketchbook.

After some time when you finally decided to join him, you were exhausted and physically drained. You lied down with your head on his lap looking up at him when his hand began to caress your cheek. “Taehyung.”

“Yes, my love?” He asked with his gaze meeting yours. The name just slipped and he didn’t care to take it back, only watched you curiously still waiting to hear what you would say. You blinked once, “I think I’m beginning to understand better.”

You had been writing nonstop for a long time but for the first time it felt like you finally understood your work.

There was no way to explain it but these interactions with Taehyung—your living reverie—have opened your eyes to his character and the way you wanted to write him in the first place. He was everything you had been searching for.

He leaned back, startled by the sudden way you sat up, hand around his looking at him, “You.”

“Me?” Taehyung asked with his hands on your waist, shifting you more on his lap, “You understand me?”

All it took was one nod of your head for him to be pulling you into a kiss meeting you halfway. He had a hand on your chin, angling your head opposite of his letting the kiss deepen, soon he was tracing the curve of your neck with his jaw. Every ounce of lust and greed poured out in his fingers when he touched you.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to realize something about his friend seemed different. He was used to Taehyung isolating himself when he had a wave of creativity. There would be days on end where Jungkook would call only for every call to be ignored. He would even write his friend letters but he never answered him. When he was back to normal, Taehyung would look tired like he hadn't eaten or slept in days.

Right now, Jungkook sees Taehyung but he doesn’t think Taehyung sees him. Despite sitting across from him, he wouldn’t look his way. Instead he was staring out the large windows that overlooked the courtyard

“Have you eaten?” Jungkook asked, looking up from his sketchbook. The two had been on the second floor of the library this evening studying classical art techniques. Jungkook had gotten bored and began to sketch up an idea for another sculpture while Taehyung drew someone he couldn’t recognize. His friend didn’t even so much as flinch and give any sign that he was listening.

A small scoff left his lips, “Taehyung.” With an annoyed huff, he reached for his sketchbook and watched with a confused expression, “Who is this?”

It was quite detailed despite how little time he had to draw this and Jungkook was in awe. For a second he wondered if this was original work from Taehyung, all created from his mind but as he followed Taehyung’s gaze out the window, he realized it wasn’t.

It was you.

You sat on a wooden bench facing the swan fountain and there was a book in your hands. Jungkook couldn’t make out the book but seemed to have all your attention because you stopped every now and then to highlight something then jot it down in a notebook. There were powder blue headphones on your head and you were in a red lace long sleeve top with roses embroidered on and under was a white shirt. The black skirt you wore reached below your knees with a slit on the side that exposed your boots and over it all, you had on a black coat. He’ll admit, you did look rather captivating against the dead green of the lawn and trees paired with the foggy sky from days on end of rain.

Taehyung seemed to have found his newest muse and it was all he could think about.

“Are you still interested in her?” Jungkook finally asked, catching the way a small smile seemed to fall on Taehyung’s face—something he rarely got to see despite how easily he gave them to you. Jungkook did recognize you in the drawing better once he got a good look at you. He had almost forgotten seeing you weeks ago when he was with Taehyung, but he had certainly forgotten his friend’s knowledge and curiosity of you.

“Only a little,” Taehyung said, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at him with disbelief. He was used to his friend having a sudden infatuation with a certain person but they were short lived and always ended with the poor girl crying about how cold he was—Jungkook knows because he was always there to pick up their broken pieces with a night in his bed [Taehyung never cared].

“She’s hot,” Jungkook said, half teasingly to read how his friend would feel. Taehyung merely gave him a side glance in acknowledgment but the smile he had for you had tightened as he looked back outside.

“It’s that guy again,” Jungkook pointed out as they both watched outside, “What’s his name?”

Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung was used to seeing him around throughout the years but he never had a need to pay attention to him before. Like most of those who he sees in passing they never become more than that—just a passing blur that he doesn’t care to know a single thing about. Namjoon used to be one of the ones he ignored until he heard you mention him once or twice.

“Who knows,” Taehyung said, shifting his gaze down to his sketch pad avoiding the sight of Namjoon and you now standing like you had somewhere to go.

Jungkook, the ever curious and procrastinating, kept watching you just out of sheer boredom. The library had gone dark aside from the few kerosene lamps scattered across tables but it was already getting hard to see his sketches properly so now he’s just waiting for Taehyung to finish.

Suddenly, all too suddenly that it made him jump in his seat, Taehyung was standing, shoving his things in his bag loud enough to create an echo in the cold library. Jungkook looked up at him, pencil laying limp in his hand now, “Are we done?”

Taehyung pushed his chair into the wooden table, not bothering to look back at his friend as he stormed off, “Yes.”

Not long after he watched his friend make his abrupt leave from the library… he saw him now approaching you and Namjoon.

You were blissfully unaware that you had been watching through the windows of a library as much as you were unaware of Taehyung coming up behind you as Namjoon talked. “I was thinking maybe we could go catch that new movie that just came out.”

“Oh, I was going to do some writing—You won’t believe it Joonie,” your tone changed so suddenly as you grabbed him by the arm, jerking him toward you excitedly carrying on like he hadn’t said anything, “It’s like I can’t stop writing, you wouldn’t believe how easily the words are flowing like… I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way before, Joonie.”

“That’s good, Y/n but,” Namjoon’s words slowed down as he looked behind you at the looming figure standing a few feet away. He’s never spoken a word to Kim Taehyung despite both being grad students, he only knows of him from what others have spoken and he’s very… cold. Since when did you and him begin to talk? Namjoon took your hands in his as he pulled you closer to have your attention knowing you still didn’t know who was behind you, “But it’s nice to get a break, you don’t want to overwork yourself.”

“You don’t get it, Namjoon,” you said his name instead of the affectionate nickname you’ve always called him, he couldn’t help but look at Taehyung who pretended like he wasn’t watching closely with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, “I can’t stop. I cannot stop. If I-I do, I don’t know.”

His gaze shifted behind you making you turn to look too and your eyes seemed to soften as you made eye contact with the dirty blonde you’ve been spending time with lately.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s deep voice spoke as he stared at you two, “I thought you would be busy writing”

“I’m on my way to right now,” you said, taking a step toward him with your back to your friend, “Would you join me?”

A smile came to his face as he pushed his glasses up, “If I could paint you again.”

You stood still in thought. The first time he painted you was after you had sex for the first time when it felt warm, passionate and hungry. He never slept that night, he stayed up the entire time getting the right blends of pigment on your body as it lay on the flue blanket completely nude. You’re not sure if he knew what saying that would make you think but from the way his brow raised questioning made you think he did.

Namjoon felt his jaw clench, eyes glaring at Taehyung who didn’t even bat an eye in his direction. You looked back to Namjoon now who waited for you with a bated breath. You walked up to him making his heart face as you pressed your lips against his cheek with your softly brushing against his jaw. The kiss was tender on his face and when he looked down at you, you gave him an apologetic smile, “Will you call me?”

“Will you answer?” Namjoon asked but you weren’t beside him anymore. You were next to Taehyung who took your book bag off your shoulders and put it over his, a hand grazing your back as he talked to you but too far out of your friend’s ear shot.

“What did your friend want?” Taehyung asked.

“To see a movie but I have to finish what I’m writing before it slips my mind,” You said moving your hand to his bent arm walking alongside him, “I’ll have to catch up with him another day.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that but you could still feel his eyes on you. A part of you wanted to ignore his gaze because you find yourself at a loss for words any time he looks at you that way. It’s like he sees through you not at you and sometimes you don’t know which one is better.

There’s no denying that he likes the look of you, he finds you attractive and not just physically. You know that. You just can’t tell what he’s thinking that makes him look at you that way.

“Namjoon.”

He stood alone where you once had been beside him, just watching you leave with the art major he had no idea you were even involved with. Since when did you begin to talk to him and how did Namjoon never notice? Did you just decide that you would not be open with him anymore?

“Jimin,” Namjoon looked at his friend, a bit stunned, “Hey.”

The ballerina watched after you alongside him now as he asked, “Y/n is leaving with Taehyung?”

“Are they together?” Namjoon asked suddenly, “Did you know?”

Jimin shook his head no, “Not exactly, I mean, Y/n never hid the fact that she had a thing for Taehyung, I’m just surprised to see them leave together. Y/n never told me they began to talk.”

Namjoon bit his lip nervously, “You don’t think they’ll date or anything, do you? This just seems sudden.”

He looked to his friend for some comfort but all Jimin did was shrug his shoulders and say, “I don’t know, you know Y/n doesn’t really date and neither does he, they’re always too focused on writing or painting to think about anything else. Who knows, they might just work out because of how similar they are.”

“Yeah but…” Namjoon was trying to find words to say but nothing came to mind. Maybe he was just being bitter… he’s been your friend for years. He’s always been there for you anytime you needed him without question. You were attracted to him enough to sleep with him but was that all it was ever going to be? You won’t see him as more than just a friend but then Kim Taehyung comes along and suddenly you have no problem walking away from Namjoon to go with him?

Jimin looked at his friend apologetically, he sympathized with him. He’s known you for longer than Namjoon has and he’s been through this exact same thing before too. There was a time when he thought you and him were the closest until Namjoon came along and suddenly you spent all your time with him instead. Now Namjoon is experiencing what Jimin did but this time because of Taehyung and he feels bad for that.

“Look, I’m going to be honest,” Jimin tried to work out what he was going to say so it didn’t come off badly, “I think, Y/n loves the idea of Taehyung on paper… how she can write or create him like she’s done with you and I in the past. I think maybe it’s nothing past something superficial but at the same time…”

“At the same time,” Jimin repeated himself with a bated breath, “I see a lot of similarities between them especially when it comes to putting their work first and maybe that’s something they seem to understand about each other that we don’t.”

Namjoon didn’t get it.

So was it not that you two had feelings for each other?

Was it not that you might love each other?

Was it just that you two understood each other?

He doesn’t get it. Now, Namjoon might not understand your obsession with perfecting every aspect of your writing… but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He loved you a lot—more than he assumes Taehyung could love you.

It’s not like it’s a secret, Namjoon has always been open about the way he felt about you so why did you choose someone else? All because he couldn’t understand you the way Taehyung might? Is it because he can’t just look at you and know what you need the way Taehyung can?

Is it because he doesn’t spend hours missing sleep or eating just so he could obsess over his work too?

How could Taehyung possibly understand you more than he does?

::.

okokok this was kinda long but I’m sorry, blonde Taehyung as an art major was doing it for me 🫶this was a romance but also not necessarily bc the focus isn’t entirely on their relationship 🤒neither one of them are supposed to be super likable so if you hate them and the way oc did Joon and Jimin dirty i get it 🫡but they just genuinely do not think about anything but their craft.

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv v @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

#kim taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung au #taehyung #taehyung imagine #Taehyung fic #Taehyung fanfic #taehyung oneshot #taehyung one shot #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #Taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts imagines

[abybweisse]

Book haul at HPB

First, here's a pic of everything.

Here, you can see each of the P. G. Wodehouse titles I got. Never bought Jeeves and Wooster books before, but this should be a great read. The BBC series was hilarious, what I recall seeing when I was a kid. Always adored Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry; in fact, I already have books written by them, too. Also got a couple Jane Austen titles and a Fyodor Dostoevsky that are part of a special edition series.

Then I got a bunch of books in this gorgeous special edition collection by Chiltern Publishing. I already had Jane Eyre and a couple other titles in this series, so I hope I don't have any extra copies of anything. I don't think so, but I'll have to unbox my books to find out for sure. I'm a bit worried that I might already have a copy of Wuthering Heights....

And then these books that are more random. I already had books 1 and 2 of Parasyte, so now I also have book 3. Then I already had Baking Yesteryear by B. Dylan Hollis, but this is a signed copy! The Philip Pullman book is a collection of his essays about the writing process. The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce is considered by some to be one of the 100 greatest masterpieces of American literature. And then Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is the one book I actually went there for. 😅 Too bad they didn't have a pretty copy, but that's ok. Maybe Chiltern will release one later. 🤔

#off topic slightly #books #book porn #robert louis stevenson #oscar wilde #j m barrie #jane austen #fyodor dostoevsky #ambrose bierce #hitoshi iwaaki #philip pullman #b dylan hollis #dylan hollis #lewis carroll #arthur conan doyle #emily brontë #george orwell #thomas hardy #anne brontë #louisa may alcott #p g wodehouse #my stuff #stuff i bought #aug 27 2023 #half price books #emily bronte #anne bronte

[cacoetheswriting]

Hi, i was wondering if I could request something with Eddie Munson, I love touch-starved!eddie so I'd love to see that (because we know that boy hasn't received a hug in forever), and something about him liking the reader but thinking she deserves better than him/wouldn't ever feel the same way. You can elaborate it into any story, I'd just like to see those elements and reader comforting Eddie in the end. Much love <3

ahh i love this, thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy!

-

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 1.5k warnings: slow burn, the beginning of best friends to lovers, adult language, talk of insecurities / anxieties, just a lot of fluff tbh - unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything!

-

Eddie was funny, and not in a try-hard way, but like genuinely and effortlessly made you laugh.

He was undeniably talented. For example, only a handful of people really appreciated how it took a creative brain to for all the D&D stuff he was into. Plus you’ve seen him play guitar a couple of times and even though you probably focused a little too hard on his fingers… holy shit — yeah — he knew how to strum that thing to create the most beautiful melodies you’ve ever heard.

And he was kind. Yes, underneath that hard shell exterior was a big ol’ softie. A caring boy with a heart way too big for this shitty little town.

In your eyes, Eddie Munson was all of those things and many more, but unfortunately you knew he would never believe you were being genuine if you told him any of that. Heart shielded for his own good.

So you kept your true feelings hidden and settled for being the metalheads best friend.

The same metalhead who — despite trying his best not to be — was secretly head over heels in love with you.

(If only the two of you knew how to communicate properly.)

There is a knock on your bedroom door and not even a split-second later, Eddie pops his head in, brown locks bouncing along.

“Your dad let me in,” he states and steps inside, “What are you up to?”

You take a second before responding just to look at him. Covered head to toe in a mix of black leather and ripped denim, he is completely out of place in your preppy pink room. It makes you crack a smile and Eddie raises a brow, then quickly wipes his face thinking the reason you’re staring is because he’s got the reminisce of his dinner left in the corner of his mouth or something.

“Homework,” you eventually answer and his eyes go wide. 

“Shit, we had homework?”

“Eddie,” his name comes out almost like a whine, “You’ll never graduate if you keep forgetting we have shit to do.”

You’re up on your feet now and handing him a piece of paper and a black pen, before ushering him to sit at your desk.

“I’ll graduate,” he replies confidently, “I have you.”

To cover up the fact your stomach just flipped upside down, you roll your eyes and using one finger, you push your notebook towards him.

“Here,” you say, “Just don’t make it too obvious you’re copying me, got it?”

“It’s math, isn’t there like only one correct answer?” Eddie teases and you flick his ear. 

“Oh shut up and get to writing, I don’t have all night.”

“Fiesty.”

Ignoring his last comment, you plop down on your bed and pick up your half-destroyed copy of Wuthering Heights. Although you couldn’t quite focus on the words in front of you. Instead, your gaze kept shifting to the back of Eddie’s head.

You’re not entirely sure how much time passes when he drops the pen and turns in the seat to look at you, all you know is you’ve read about five pages and not a single word made sense.

“I think one of your answers is wrong.”

You immediately place the book down and hop to your feet. Hovering over his shoulder, you trace his finger to the problem in question then to the number you had placed as your result.

He was correct, your answer was wrong.

Feeling proud Eddie picked up on that, you maneuver around the chair and carefully sit down in his lap. He freezes due the sudden close contact, but you don’t let him dwell on his feelings too much by handing him the pen once again.

“Show me.”

His chocolate-button eyes travel from the pen to your intrigued gaze.

“Show me, Eddie.”

He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth, his best attempt to fight back a goofy smile bound to creep up on his features, and takes the pen.

Sitting comfortably in his lap, you observe as he slowly works out the problem on the piece of paper. His scribbles are piss poor, but his math is ace. Once he’s done, displaying the right answer with pride, your heart swells.

“Well, I stand corrected,” you announce with glee and tilt your head to look at him, gently pinching his nose between your index finger and thumb, “Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Munson.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle, meeting your gaze. “Like I said earlier,” he begins and places his hand on your waist, “I have you.”

Heat rushes to your face. Suddenly feeling nervous, you begin to fidget with the collar of his denim vest, focusing solely on the item of clothing because staring into the eyes of your best friend no longer seems like a good idea.

Eddie’s now thinking that he said something wrong. Yet his grip on you tightens, the feeling of your cashmere sweater against his skin comforting and soothing.

After a brief moment of borderline awkward silence, you clear your throat.

“Have you checked the next one?”

“No.”

You smack your lips together at his response and turn your attention to the piece of paper on the desk.

“Let’s do it together then,” you announce.

Smiling to himself, the metalhead agrees. He adjusts his hold on you, his arm making its way around you completely as he lifts the paper in front of the two of you. Exhaling, he begins to read the next problem aloud and with a hint of hesitation in his voice, Eddie continues to explain how he would solve it.

You don’t really recall the exact point your arm travels around his shoulders, fingers tangling themselves amongst his brown locks. Or when you incline towards him, too lost in the sound of his voice, and press the side of your face against his. 

And the leather clad boy is shaking internally because the sensation of your body pressed against his is perhaps the most alleviating feeling he’s ever experienced. Truthfully, he couldn’t really remember the last time he was this close to someone and it actually meaning something to him — and unbeknown to Eddie, also to you.

“Eddie Munson, you’ve tricked me our entire friendship.”

He almost laughs. Almost. A tiny voice at the back of his mind prevents him from doing so, repeating ‘just be honest, just be honest, just be honest’, therefore instead, Eddie swallows thickly. His leg starts to shake, you can feel it bounce underneath you.

“Can I uhm,” he stumbles and pulls back, tilting his head to address you, “Can I ask you a question?”

You lift your hand, gently brushing his locks behind his ear. 

“Sure, Eds.”

The metalhead briefly bites down on his bottom lip, taking a moment to align the thoughts currently circling his brain. There was so much at stake. This friendship with you, it meant the world, it was his everything. You were his everything. And what he was about to say, the words that were about to come out of his mouth, they could ruin what you guys had.

But looking at you, staring oh so deeply into your pretty eyes, he just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Hypothetically, what if in a friendship, one person thinks they would like to try being something more because they have all these uhm, all these feelings, but they just don’t really see themselves as… worthy.”

Knowing exactly what he was trying to convey yet unsure how to answer him immediately, you chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Well,” you exhale softly, “I think honesty is the best policy, always, even in a hypothetical situation,” you say and offer him an encouraging smile.

Eddie nods at your words. His heart is now hammering inside his chest, and could potentially explode at any second, especially as you caress his cheek with your thumb.

“What if that person is scared?” Eddie asks after a moment, before quickly adding, “Hypothetically, of course.”

He’s too sweet for his own good, you think and grab onto the collar of his denim vest.

“Eds,” you begin and he arches a brow, “you know you’re my favourite person in the entire world, right? Cross my heart, I would be so fucking lost without you,” you confide and he hopes he’s not blushing — (he is).

You proceed to poke his chest. “But I swear to fuck, if you honestly think that you’re not good enough for me—”

Letting out an awkward laugh, the metalhead grabs your finger.

“We were talking in hypotheticals,” Eddie defends, interrupting you. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“Okay.”

The air suddenly feels… different. Eddie’s gaze searches yours and the longer he stares, the wider his smile grows. A couple of minutes pass and the curly haired boy is grinning like an idiot.

I’m in love with you, Eddie thinks before asking, “Am I really your favourite person in the world?”.

Instead of answering him immediately, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a comforting embrace. Eddie sinks into your body instantly. His hands make home on your waist once again and he takes a moment to inhale the sweet smell of your lavender perfume.

I’m in love with you, you think to say but decide to bite your tongue, whispering instead: “As if you even have to ask, Eddie Munson.”

-

main masterlist | add yourself to a taglist

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot

[kiss-my-freckle]

Full Episode Commentary

1x2: The Night of the Comet

I believe Katherine IS the comet. The soundtrack lyrics at the open are hilarious to me. "I tremble. They're gonna eat me alive." Damon kills another couple, and both are premeditated. This time, he's more or less playing with his food based on what they say to each other, making it "rain" blood. This is Katherine's impact on Damon. More journal voiceovers from Stefan and Elena. "For once, I don't regret the day before it begins." If only Elena knew that Stefan would burn to ash in the daylight without his ring on. "For once, I don't regret the day before it begins. Because I know I will see him again. For the first time in a long time, I feel good." Here, Elena speaks of being too dependent. As if she needs Stefan just to get out of bed. To feel good. Beyond disgusting and very unhealthy.

Jenna needing to ask Elena questions about Jeremy shows her failure as their guardian. He's visiting Vicki at the hospital. Stefan and Elena can't even get through class without ogling each other. A beautiful parallel there. For Stelena, it's high school with Mr. Tanner. For Delena, it's college with professor Shane. They interrupt class. Stefan brought Elena a copy of Wuthering Heights. He lies to her about where he got it. Caroline tells Bonnie to conjure up Damon's name and phone number, she's that stuck on him. Stefan intrudes on Elena's conversation with Matt. Now the second time he eavesdrops. Matt is talking to her about Vicki, and to be clear… Damon was the first to tell Elena their truth, he simply told her through Vicki. It takes Elena three more episodes to find out it's actually true.

Sigh… Jenna showing more and more that she's a parental guardian failure. Using the death of Jeremy's parents to excuse his skipping classes. Mr. Tanner shouldn't have to tell Jenna that Jeremy is on drugs when they live in the same house, but clearly it's news to her. She then gives him attitude while he's being real with her. Stefan is at the hospital, compelling Vicki. Matt catches sight of him and follows. That's when Stefan runs right into the phlebotomy area and vamps out. It's clear that he's insanely hungry for human blood because he's been on animal blood. Something Damon commented about in the pilot episode. Caroline straight-up insults Bonnie's grandmother, and appears to be more interested in hearing about Elena's time with Stefan. "Just jump his bones already! Ok, it's easy. Boy likes girl, girl likes boy, sex!" So this is the same girl that refers to Damon as a man slut in 4x8. She's actually questioning why Elena didn't sleep with Stefan the day after meeting him. Wow. Elena agrees with Caroline, which I find hilarious because it's the reason she meets Damon.

Matt questions Vicki about her attack. It's clear that Stefan didn't compel her well because she actually has to think about what attacked her. The answer should come easily. Jeremy stops in and takes the hint to give them time alone. Matt has similar body language for Delena in 4x7. Vicki makes it sound like she's much older than Jeremy when he's 15. She's having a relationship with him in secret, which I feel isn't fair to him. He's young, so he's a lot more tolerant to that crap than Elena. Still, his love for her is real and adorably sweet.

This was the moment I fell in love with Damon. Just this right here. The way he looks at her with fun in his eyes. I love him all the more for bringing the crow in. He's straight-up confessing that he was at the cemetery, and he's the one Bonnie saw when she did her beer bottle reading. Damon doesn't require words to actually speak. He simply needs Elena to accept what she's seeing. Such is the case with him closing the door behind her when she left it open. Damon is telling her he's a vampire without telling her he's a vampire, she's just not ready to accept it. Clearly he wants her to know. Just as clear that Elena hears but doesn't listen. "Stefan didn't tell me he had a brother." Actually, he did. If Stefan didn't have a sibling, he'd admit he doesn't have a sibling. When Elena asked if he had siblings, his response was enough. "None that I talk to." A basic admission that he has siblings, but they're estranged. "Well, Stefan's not one to brag." Exactly what Stefan does in his final goodbye to Elena. There's a duality in Damon where Elena is concerned, and I find it altogether beautiful. I think it's only natural for both brothers to be curious about her. However, being curious doesn't require being in her life. The difference between Damon and Stefan is that Damon doesn't "have to" know her, he "gets to" know her. If not for Stefan, he'd simply care for Elena from a distance.

Damon has a certain style about him as he speaks of their family room. "It's a little kitschy for my taste." He would require an emotional connection to their art to actually like it. From this point forward, it's important to pay mind to what he says because he uses alternate meanings. Not just in this episode either. "I see why my brother's so smitten." The sense of sight because she's a doppelganger. "It's about time. For a while there, I never thought he'd get over the last one." Sense of time as they're over 145 years old. "Nearly destroyed him." And a sense of being because Stefan literally died and became a vampire. This is how quick Damon conjures up alternate meanings. He's also able to pull off beautiful speeches on the spot.

"Yeah. Katherine, his girlfriend? Oh, you two haven't had the awkward exes conversation yet. Oops. Well, I'm sure it'll come up now. Or maybe he didn't want to tell you because he didn't want you to think he was on the rebound. We all know how those relationships end."

Damon drops Katherine's name for the sake of Elena asking Stefan about her because it'll be hard for him to talk about Katherine without revealing his age. Damon then pushes the idea that Stefan is on the rebound for the sake of Elena pushing the issue all the more. The best way to get Elena questioning Stefan about Katherine is by making her question if she is in fact a rebound. He then admits to being a fatalist. This is extremely important for season 5, as it's his belief that things are fated to happen. Elena's comment jumps off his comment to Stefan in the pilot. "Well, let's hope not. We both know how that ended." Damon believes Katherine has been desiccating in the tomb for 145 years, so it ended.

Stefan interrupts their conversation. Bothersome to me because I already have a problem with the way he regards Elena. In this scene, it's his body language. He's coming off extremely possessive. Like a dog guarding its bone, only Elena is the bone. It's even in his eyes. He's having a non-verbal conversation with Damon, and in this conversation, basically tells Damon that Elena belongs to him. When Stefan makes Elena feel so unwelcomed that she admits she should've called first, yeah. He's literally giving her the feeling that she doesn't belong there. Damon's response is hilarious. "Oh, don't be silly. You're welcome any time. Isn't she, Stefan? You know, I should break out the family photo albums or some home movies. But… I have to warn you. He wasn't always such a looker." He's already offering her photo albums and home movies, both of which would reveal their truth. Stefan still hasn't taken his eyes off Damon, as if Damon did something wrong. A two second look at Elena, and his eyes are back on Damon. It's insane how possessive he is, and I love the way Damon responds to it. Even when Elena goes to leave, he's like a brick wall. She actually has to repeat Stefan's name to get him to step aside so she can leave. The way he holds his hands behind his back, he's exhibiting power and dominance.

Damon knows Stefan quite well, so he knows he was at the hospital to compel Vicki. He questions if it worked because apparently it doesn't work well for vampires that don't drink human blood. Stefan asks Damon a question that speaks to his jealous nature. "How long was Elena here?" He basically wants to know how long Damon and Elena were alone with each other. Damon responds to Stefan's jealousy. "Are you worried, Stefan? Scared we may be doomed to repeat the past?" Elena is hilarious to me because she's quick to believe Stefan is on the rebound as Damon told her he was. "Raging family issues" is how she chooses to describe Stefan's possessive nature. Jeremy is hilarious in the way he talks to Jenna after she throws an apple at him, and she has no idea what to make of his response. Given what happens to Vicki, Damon had every reason to question if Stefan's compulsion worked on her. The only way I can describe her issue is by referring to Damon's mind in 8x10. He placed himself in hell fire in his conscious mind and in the cemetery in his subconscious mind. For a vampire on human blood, compulsion should reach the subconscious mind. It should reach the cemetery. For Stefan, it's only reaching the conscious mind, the hell fire. That's why Vicki is having nightmares about Damon. Her subconscious is breaking through and literally haunting her. Caroline catches sight of Damon and he disappears right before her eyes lol. At this point, he's acting like a tease. It's my belief that he's teasing her to the point she aches for him. He does this extremely well with Elena.

Zach is questioning why Damon is there. "Why did he come home?" If it is Damon's home, there should be no reason to question why he is home, and I feel the question quite insulting for either brother. Stefan assumes it's because of him. Uhm, no. Damon is home because he plans to rescue Katherine from the tomb. He's planning to make Stefan miserable because Stefan forced himself into Elena's life whilst pretending to be human. "Is she worth it? Uncle Stefan, this girl you came back for?" Insane that Zach feels this way about Stefan. I feel Elena is worth Stefan stepping out of her life, but he won't respect her enough. They're in town where most of their events take place, lighting candles and waiting for the comet to pass over. I consider the candle lighting representations just like the opening of the pilot. Stefan and Elena discuss the comet, his description is quite beautiful. Elena lol… "You seem to spend a lot of time apologizing." That's because Stefan is a big, fat liar. His question is perfect by design, and its intent is to further lie to her. "What did he say?" He wants to know what Damon told her about Katherine because he doesn't want to share unnecessary information. Sharing unnecessary information could reveal their truth. I consider this a manipulation. She talks about how Damon spoke of Katherine breaking his heart. Stefan tells her that was a long time ago. Uhm… he's stuck in his 17 year old body and pretending to be human. It's gonna be hard to claim it was a very long time ago while also being at an age when he would've dated her. Stefan stands in front of her to get her attention. Obvious that his intimate distance doesn't do to Elena what Damon's does, and I don't think it's meant to. She blows out her candle and leaves him at the event.

Damon's at the Grill, having a drink when Vicki walks in. He considers it unfortunate that she knows him, but he's speaking specifically to Stefan's inability to compel her correctly. That's why he takes her to the roof. He wants Stefan to feed because he's not even strong enough to compel. Like the pilot episode, Matt has another split-second moment that I swear he suspects Stefan of being a vampire. It's when Stefan hears Damon and Vicki on the roof, and he tilts his head to it. I also find it very hard for Stefan to explain why he's at the hospital visiting Vicki when he's a stranger to them. Damon cracks me up every time he pokes fun at Stefan's animal diet. He questions Vicki in front of Stefan for the sake of showing him that he's not compelling correctly. That's why he presses about what attacked her. A correctly compelled person wouldn't remember a vampire. Damon is genuinely upset that Stefan is as weak as he is. Understand that he has no idea Stefan is a blood junkie. He only knows that Stefan is a ripper. One doesn't necessarily have to do with the other. "No! I want you to remember who you are!" Stefan believes this is about Damon wanting to be brothers again. Uhm... this asshole truly can't think of any other reason why Damon is acting this way. Stefan forced himself into Elena's life and is playing human with her. He literally just got done writing in his journal about how he's unable to resist her, still poses a threat to her as he chooses to remain in her life, and he wonders why Damon wants him to remember who he is? He's the Ripper of Monterey!! Stefan actually tells him that he'd rather die and be rid of him than live and have him in his life. And fans wonder why I consider Stefan a shit brother. Through his response, Damon is basically telling Stefan that he's being dramatic. Damon doesn't want his brother dead, he wants him strong. It's insane to me that Stefan is choosing to build a life in Mystic Falls while remaining weak on the animal diet. Stefan won't be able to hide every little thing for long, so he will need his strength at some point. "Give Elena my best." Damon's comment has an alternate meaning, and it's actually quite literal. Stefan is giving Damon's best to Elena and Damon is giving Stefan's best to Caroline. Stefan is ripping into Elena in 3x5 and Damon is kissing her in 3x10.

Caroline makes it clear that she likes being the center of attention. God forbid Vicki actually be center of attention for the night. "Ugh, it's just so much drama. Ever notice how the druggies are the biggest attention whores?" This is Caroline describing herself.

When Bonnie hands Elena's phone number to Stefan, she has the same reaction as she did for her beer bottle reading. She can sense that he's a vampire. Even though Jenna is having a problem acting as their parental guardian, I feel that's mostly due to her age. It's sad that Jeremy is stuck in this love triangle with Tyler and Vicki, but he offers an interesting point of view when Elena gets stuck in her own love triangle. At the end of the episode, Stefan treats Elena how he should've treated her when she was talking to Damon. He had no reason whatsoever to react the way he did. His reaction only furthers the fact that he's a possessive and jealous person. This here is insane to me.

"I'm scared that if I let myself be happy for even one moment that the world's just going to come crashing down, and I don't know if I can survive that." Elena's comment is enough reason for Stefan not to be in her life, but he's not about caring what's best for her, he's about himself. "Well, this is reality. Right here." Stefan hands Elena another lie. Without his daylight ring, he'd burn to ash when the sun came up. This is only half their reality, so it's a lie by omission. They cut to Damon, who's giving Caroline the other half of their truth. So Stefan is giving Elena Damon's best and Damon is giving Caroline Stefan's best. The very reason Damon needed to enter Elena's life once Stefan did. He's there to unravel the lies Stefan tells her.

#Bite Me

[no-where-new-hero]

Hey, I just finished Starling House and am trawling the tag, and saw your post where you mentioned it was really obvious where the book got its influences from. I don't disagree but I'm super new to reading anything even a little bit horror (and I'm finding I LOVE gothic horror and old houses full of secrets), so I wondered if you have a rec list of books you felt did the genre better?

Hi hi!!! I honestly forgot I even made that post, but I’m glad you stumbled across it, and thanks for sending in this ask :))

TBh after these intervening months I don’t remember exactly the extent of her copying I had in mind, but I do remember that this book felt to me as though Harrow pitched it to her publisher as Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones meets We Have Always Lived at the Castle by Shirley Jackson. Jones brings the odd couple and the magic, Jackson brings the Americana Gothic. I think the reason for my critique of Harrow was that she failed to capture (only in my opinion, of course! And all this being said, I didn't dislike the book) either the whimsy of Jones or the horror of Jackson, even while trying to invoke both of them. To me, Harrow’s best strengths in the book were her critiques of capitalism and arguments for how history is created/remembered, yet sometimes I felt that theme and trope didn’t always align! Again, just my view, and after reading a few more of this year’s House books, I do think that Starling House was the most masterfully created of them all. This being said, if you enjoy horror vibes with houses, I do recommend The Hacienda by Isabel Cañas's (and her short fiction) and The Last Tale of the Flower Bride by Roshani Chokshi. They're easy romantic reads and kind of rhyme with Starling House.

My personal primer for feminist Gothic fiction (my soapbox is that the genre is specifically feminist and that a lot of authors who try to do "Gothic but with Feminist 101 because those old books gave too much power to the husbands!" are ENTIRELY MISSING THE POINT) is below!

We Have Always Lived at the Castle and The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. These probably come closest to what Harrow was doing.

For subtler feminism and more critique of power, I recommend Mexican Gothic by Silva Moreno Garcia and The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter.

For classics, I will always recommend Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier and Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte because they do say some radical things about gender for their time period!

Hope this was helpful! Thanks again for stopping by <3

#blake’s last braincell #blake's asks #reading recommendations #immortal poets society

[horizon-verizon]

HOT TAKE:

Rhaenyra x Alicent

Rhaenyra x Harwin

Rhaenyra x Daemon

Daemon x Laena

Rhaenyra x Aegon II

Criston x Rhaenyra

Aemond x Lucerys

Criston x Alicent

Viserys x Aemma

Aemond x Helaena

Aegon II x Helaena

every single ship/couple on the show is either VERY problematic or toxic, so fans picking and choosing who is better is stupid. every single male character in the show has done something problematic and I mean EVERY single male character. The day the fandom just admit that every ship/couple is problematic/toxic is the day the HOTD fandom will know peace and the day shippers just admit that they only give certain male characters a pass because they find them attractive is the day we'll know peace.

*EDITED POST* (4/28/24)

i do agree that some male characters are given a pass when they shouldn't, however there are some who people acknowledge are bad, amoral, morally ambiguous, or just plain evil but ship them with certain people bc of various reasons. The human experience is not just about being "moral" 100% of the time, or being "rational"; other times, it's about fun and thrill and empathizing with a feeling, etc.

There is also reason why some ships are canonically real and lasted with little internal conflict between the couple (w/o there being an external intervention not of either their faults) and why some did not...

And why are "fucked up" people's relationships/love in fucked up or dangerous situations not "real"? Or valid?

I consider it to be a sort of miracle when this does happen, so I tend to positively fascinated! Because they tend to be more passionate, even thought they may not always be the most dramatic. Two (or more) people find each other and come to trust each other despite the odds or what could never or not as likely happen anywhere else? Sign me up! (except parent-child, grandparent-grandchild incest; physical abuse; emotional abuse; teens with 40 yr olds, and I'm sure i'm forgetting some things)

A)

I find that this growing protest against any fictional relationship that is not the ideal healthy one that real-life people dream of in of itself indicative of being out of touch with reality, specious, and tedious. As if it is not "healthy", then it doesn't deserve to be fictionalized and distributed to be read.

There is frustration with stories like Romeo and Juliet, Wuthering Heights, and the enemies-to-lovers trope itself...as if the writers of those stories expected you to copy their main characters 1:1 and take their tale as their own personal ideas in the first place. It is a protest that criticizes romance fiction/general fiction for not being 1:1 to what we should go for, or what we are taught to, in reality for the sake of morality teaching, censored. That fiction writing, especially romance, should only show fluff or as little conflict or high stakes between couples as possible because people are not discerning enough to always tell what is abusive behavior and what is grey behavior.

Like with Romeo and Juliet, people think R&J is an endorsement of this sort of relationship or they conflate the relationship with suicide for one that you love bc there's so many iterations and people going "I wish my love was as dedicated as Romeo to Juliet/vice versa" bc it speaks to their desire for passion in romantic relationship. But again, they conflate, they forget, or never knew that this story is really about the pressures put on vulnerable people's who merely wish to have love and peace in their lives but can't bc their families/communities refuse to abandon a cycle of hate or forcing their children to marry or limit their own ways of thinking for the sake of obedience. How the only relationships that matter are those made b/t the couple and not those constructed by ambitious forces who do not care the amount of blood they spill or lives wasted unless it's to gain more power and gain more "glory" in these hierarchial systems. Romeo and Juliet's love (no matter how you feel about it) is meant to be the direct contradiction to the hatred, and their suicides are meant to be seen as tragic bc they could have bene prevented if the adults aroud them got their heads out of their asses. But bc people are going, "oh, those kids are so stupid" all the time, this point is entirely missed!!!

Or rather, I say, people tend to misunderstand the value & appeal of some ships...canon or not.

No people, they write characters for ideas and philosophical concepts. Innovative, new or familiar and already developed, or something in the middle. We also don't read fiction stories to just be educated into copying behaviors, otherwise, we'd read nonfiction. Fiction is for emotional reality, speculative/philosophical thought, and creative thinking skills, again, they are for exploration of taboos, urges, ideologies, historical propaganda, narratology, mythology, some mysteries that run in the back of ones mind but aren't discussed sometimes because we do not know what sort of consequences we'd have if shared for whatever reason, but for some some of these reaaosn include oppressive structures. And emotional realities, set in a world with its own laws and facts as ASoIaF is, are still important to write in to realize what one feels in their everyday life and have others take a peek into that. But it also doesn't always have to be so damn apocalyptic either, because these characters are playthings of emotional reality, narrative, and philosophy which are all examinable. We as readers can/learn to examine or spy on the trajectory and themes of the fiction and leave the rest to the story as we go about your day.

It is related (not the exact same but there is a relation) to giving horror stories to children--stuff like Coraline--things some adults repeatedly wonder today why we/they were exposed to some films or stories. Some things they can should not be for kids: kids love to be scared, too but more than that they can get scared, get thrilled, get sad in a controlled environment while still familiarize themselves with stuff that one may not be able to articulate in just human conversation or is deliberately removed from them. It also promotes empathy in them bc they get familiarized with how people cause each other pain or the depth/process/development of different types of human suffering.

It is related (not the exact same but there is a relation) to giving horror stories to children--stuff like Coraline--things some adults repeatedly wonder today why we/they were exposed to some films or stories. Some things they can should not be for kids: kids love to be scared, too but more than that they can get scared, get thrilled, get sad in a controlled environment while still familiarize themselves with stuff that one may not be able to articulate in just hunan conversation or is deliberately removed from them.

Problem is that they don't grow some reflexes to avoid, say, predatory behavior, which Coraline shows through the Beldam.

And if I hadn't read stuff like Anne Rice's novels--which people make the mistake of thinking Louis was sexually abusive towards Claudia, when it's really that they are getting that sense from how Louis "stole" away her childhood and humanity in his own horror at his immortality (eternal isolation from the beauty of change that is inherently human), at his horror at his never being able to have experience, that access to that beauty then I have more trouble understanding the value of myself and my fellow human and how that can get mucked up by societal exploitation of the fear of death (religious institutions and their teachings). Yes, his relationship with Claudia is almost mirroring that of a pedo, bc like a pedo he "took away" her childhood for his own lack of self control at his not being able to understand the ramifications of being a vampire and the predator of humanity/enemy of God. And he keeps talking about her beauty and seductiveness (her visual and tactile features like coloring and smoothness of skin, her ability to draw in her adult prey to feed on them). with what we know of him being able to suck her blood out of her body and the oral imagery that can psychologically parallel the sexual, it seems an utter troubling of the innocence we credit to children, baptism did that. That's what Rice wanted you to feel and understand, vampirism and forcing eternity into a child is inherently wrong! no matter how much you yourself are trying to reinforce you own existence's meaning by getting close to "beautiful" things and people. Remember that this is exactly how she, just losing a daughter and w acting said child back and definitely feeling the urge to imagine a way she could have her forever while also going through religious trauma herself. But it is not the thing (pedophilia) itself.

B)

Why do you bother to instruct others to not analyze when you yourself refuse to give a good reason why one should not?! When you claim that you are bringing an "analysis" that is so "simple that it must be genius?" Why do you even make a moral/ethical argument ("we would all benefit from recognizing that all these couples are 'toxic'" as if we don't already know that?!) if it is to tell people to not think?! To not name their own ships and analyze the text/context/subtext to understand what is even happening below the surface of "magical dragonriders"? You yourself did it -- how is it an issue when others do? You don't need to like these things, or to ship specifically how others ship. Just consider why and how shipping and how the "factionalism" in this fandom happens for each ship before you go barreling over telling people that they are amoral for not thinking exactly like you.

If you want to ship a couple just based on the feeling or understanding of what would be good for people's psyche in real life...that they would have both a happy, satisfactory and safe life together in real life based on your own personal preferences or the already agreed upon rules for a healthy relationship....that's fine.

But I, as a Daemyra and Jonerys shipper (these two always depend on the story where Jon and Dameon are politically subservient to these women, not even "equals": Jonerys specifically only if Jon is not her co-ruler not a situation where she is his Queen Consort. He should only be her consort if he becomes her husband and she out ranks him bc as brideoffires on Twitter pointed out, we see that a male partner is highly dangerous for Dany, Jon being the worst for his lineage), argue that the healthier and happier relationships are already RhaenyraxDaemon and JonxDany because of their respective circumstances, cultural/sociopolitical contexts -- their world and personal backgrounds. I not only look at what people say is "healthiest", I want to consider what the people themselves want in a partner, and let's be for real, Rhaenyra's desired partner was Daemon, not HArwin. She loved Harwin, that's for sure. But she wanted Daemon and part of it was for the assurance that he could protect her. (Jonerys is merely for the idea, even though I feel this is ship is more crackish with each passing day). And I do not judge every single piece of fantasy, romance, or romance part of a story by how well it conforms to that image of the realistic, healthy relationship. That's not what I and other shippers go for, including some of those who ship Rhaenyra with Harwin, etc., (since even Harwin is not the ideal modern choice for a woman he little started sleeping with when she was 19 (show) or 17 (book) while being not that far from either Daemon or Criston).

If you are going to use "incest!" and the misapplied "grooming!"/"pedophilia!" arguments to just conclude that every single relationship of ASoIaF is "toxic" (and nothing else) and thus we shouldn't care about who survives or wins or how.....then you also say we should ignore particular aspects of how in spite of the incest, some characters found ways to actually build good enough trust and bonds and when they didn't it wasn't bc of incest but bc of gender political imbalances and sexism (Jaehaerys and Alysanne) and not care about the sociopolitical events, ramifications, and philosophical questioning about identity, sexuality, power, gender, etc. that does go on in ASoIaF. Again, you're saying I/we should not think, that nothing matters at all in this universe, nothing matters. But then, those very things put into question makes this series! It seems like you're saying that the Dance doesn't matter at all...but then why are you here, watching the show and/or reading the books if you did not think the Dance mattered in some way?

And not every shipper ships what they want in real life for every story they create ships for. Ships are made for how well it appeals, and the appeal exists from how/what subtexts one interpreted from the text. Sometimes the conclusions they make are just wrong, other times not very informed or fair. In thise instances, where they et certain lore facts or characterizations completely wrong, fine, criticsims may be even necessary. Other times it's colored by or processing their own traumas, or it's about what shaped the possible/canon relationship that actually inspires the shipping, in which case, I don't think it's worth it to criticize their preference unless it leans into complete delusion that misrepresents the character/story and/or bigotry. The ship shipped is alluring, charismatic, enchanting, and/or engaging and tickling for one reason or the another.

You may argue that realistically, uncles and nieces can't be in healthy relationships -- of which there's no point to this argument in-universe as a serious criticism because this is a series where literal magic-blooded, dragon-riding people marry siblings, uncles, nieces, aunts, nephews in order to maintain that power within their respective bloodlines or that Daemon is a one-dimensional evil, evil person, no cap (he's violent but not crazy evil), and we all already know that obviously this sort of shit shouldn't happen. But these characters are contained within a world they must navigate, and of all the options that Rhaenyra had, Daemon wasn't so bad as us to say he was her doom. Once again, he's been the most loyal to her, which is what she needed.

In other words, Watsonian versus Doylist.

C)

We saw:

Rhaenys and Aegon I -- no known quarrels

Jaehaerys I and Alysanne (pre-Quarrels. It was rather Jaehaerys' misogyny and Alysanne's need to empower herself but also feeling the need to conform in some ways that broke them up but if you are in the habit of not looking past the incest, you wouldn't likely understand that and how it came to be that way with them)

Rhaena and Aegon the Uncrowned -- reasonably harmonious

Jaehaerys II and Shaera [Aegon V's kids] -- no known major quarrels

so we can't even argue that in-unverse, these couples went through their traumas just or only because of incest specifically. Aegon IV-Naerys and Aerys II and Rhaella: these couples' problems were feudal/monarchial/patriarchal problems of the man having too much power over his wife/subject. and going by how the Starks ruled for nigh 6,000-8,000 years....feudalism in some form in this world is going to be here for long after even Dany dies.

So we focus on the revolutions and changes that Dany and Rhaenyra's reigns could have or would have brought for this system.

Back to the Targs, they and Valyrian dragonlords are one only a step ahead of the Westerosi lords, who the Faith allowed, can, and often married their first cousins. As Tywin Lannister did. Yet I have heard/seen nothing about how Westerosi marry their cousins and often. One of Sansa's arranged marriage options was with a Arryn/Vale first cousin.

The prime reason why sibling-marriage is considered taboo amongst Westersoi is because the Faith of the Seven rules that the gods say it so. That's it. There is an absence of logic where some Targ anti claim there is when it comes to why Andal Westerosi reason why incest is bad but still do cousin marriages.

There are even two uncle-niece marriages in the Stark family: "in the north, Serena Stark had been wed to her half-uncle, Edric, while her sister Sansa Stark had been wed to her half-uncle Jonnel Stark (AWoIaF; "Incest in the Seven Kingdoms")". One of these marriages produced children, and neither were ever ruled as sinful by the Faith, nor are the Starks ruled as being all seeds of "abomination".

So.... something is going on here that is more than just "it's incest!" These kinds of questions, not "is this my idea of healthy", are the ones that actually give you answers to how people think, how much does culture influences and where, train you to practice empathy, etc.

D)

It is also Westerosi/medieval/ancient history and general practice to marry what we Western moderns see now as older children (15-17-year-olds) to other teens adults. Real European societies (one of them Westeros was adopted from) still preferred marrying at least 15-16 year olds minimum out of fear of messing with their humors and the girls' physical safety--still delaying consummation.

[Removal of past statement about GRRM and tone for age-gap relationships in story, he has many large-age gaps in the more romantically-told relationships of ASoIaF]

Westerosi custom has the age of majority of 16, but still, both genders can marry or get betrothed way before their 18th nameday. And girls who had their first period were considered safer to bed. It's considered "perverse" to bed a girl who hasn't had her period yet. The incongruence of GRRM's habit of featuring relationships (or suggested intimacies) b/t people w/large age gaps and real life medieval attitudes and practices regarding marriage is a relevant topic, but to claim that basically none of these people felt love or cared about their partners and ignoring how they interact in-text that proves otherwise is fallacious and dumb.

These are screenshots to the link about maidens and the Westerosi age of majority:

That means that from even younger ages, both Westerosi girls and boys understood that they might inherit adult responsibilities and political power, as well as get to be married or betrothed younger than what we'd like them to. And we can expect that since the entire world is modeled after ancient/medieval cultures the people we call teens also experienced this. And even 15-year-old nobles understand that they will be arranged to marry and have sex with (to reproduce) whomever their authority figure chooses, for that's the practice. Because 15-year olds can and do sometimes become lords and ladies with the power to order armies. Fifteen-year-old boys have been trained to use the sword and other military weapons (ahem, Daemon became a knight at 16, Aemond trained under Criston since he was 10, Jon was 14 in the beginning of the ASoIaF books and became Lord Commander around 16-17, etc.).

To call them all automatic forever victims-from-child-brides, etc. is to completely erase/the/does:

Removal of past points about people dying earlier being the main reason for earlier marriages, it's actually more complicated than that, which I simplified in second point below.

ignores that even medieval nobles in real life and in Westeros do try not to marry their kids too young for the girl's safety -- with the first also believing that to have sex too young would deplete your humors (that they themselves did express real care towards their children)

ignores, reduces/makes less significant/important/thematic how Rhaenyra and Dany, for example, actually gain back autonomy by being with Daemon, Harwin, Daario Noharis (Not the HotD, Fire and Blood/canon. They show how fucked that messaging up in relation to how it sets up a cultural presence against the female chastity model of this society by making her the possible aggressor towards Criston....what happens between them also cannot be made 1:1 to a modern capitalist boss-employee relationship).

And you end up dismissing, even not understanding, the bigger stuff of this series, taking for granted how power is imbalanced and different from how it would be in the real, present-day worlds. Like how some people claim Dany abuses Irri when that is far from true; even going so far as to claim this proves she will go mad like in the show...another way to demand her progress and character and misinterpret all the Azor Ahai symbolism tied to her. Misogyny.

If you wanted relationships with absolutely no age gaps, teens marrying each other or adults and uncomplicated fluff and that's it...I'm sorry to let you know that you stumbled onto the wrong place, anon. Even if GRRM decreased the number of prominent age gap relationships, there would have to be one or two within the Targ line because the truth is also that real medieval peoples did have age gap marriage that were early-consummated and a few 12-year olds getting married and having that marriage consummated, even if it was uncommon and frowned on. "Uncommon' reveals that it still happened and that were was enough room for it to happen.

END

Don't pretend as if none of these relationships somehow got you to buy in and be emotionally involved!!!!

I've asked this before: not that there is no such thing as a relationship being unhealthy, but when it becomes about shipping=promoting or always saying this is the exact sort of relationship, 1-1, that people should have in real life, what does "toxic" even mean anymore?

What is this such a catch-all term as if it perfectly encapsulates "evil"? We throw that word around as if people know exactly what you mean 100% of the time in a specific case whenever spoken when that's far from the truth or even truth-seeking. What are you specifically talking about when you say RhaenyraxDaemon or AemondxHelaena are toxic? These are all very different people and GRRM never stays with such black-white thinking.

Politics is the activities associated with making decisions in groups, or other forms of power relations among individuals, such as the distribution of resources or status. Shipping has a political interest or consciousness. ASoiaF is politics and magic and exploration of social relations as well as psychological development, which doesn't always mean that we need to "slove" bad relationships. Sometimes it's fun to indulge. Shipping can indicate what the person thinks of what should and should not be prioritized, but is not automatically an indication of moral success or failure because the characters are not JUST models of morality....they are explorations of humanity and psychology. If you cannot reason that a problematic ship should not happen in real life, you need better critical thinking skills instead of censoring people and stories that serve to make people aware.

You are basically saying people who read speculative politics should not speculate.....you've lost the battle anon. Shipping is more about liking the story or one or a few particular aspects of the ship (created by the specific circumstances that made this ship) than its canonical reality or its "healthiness" because of the implied possibilities that one speculates from it. Why would I shut all that creative thinking down for the "healthiness" of people who don't even exist, for patting myself on the back for liking the "appropriate" relationship that is closest to the real life one real people should have?! I don't need that badge.

#hotd neutrals #shipping #asoiaf shipping #westerosi age of majority #asoiaf writing #hotd writing #asoiaf asks to me #fantasy fiction #fantasy writing #fantasy vs reality #anti neutrality #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf fandom #fandom

[amarrymeinbostonwriter]

A Grad Student’s Notes on The Well of Loneliness (1 of ?)

I started (technically re-reading) Radclyffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness, the banned British Lesbian classic from 1928. I read this book once ten years ago but man, I must have been sleeping or something then because wow this slaps very hard (and I’m not even on page 50 yet). 

So far, Hall writes more like a Victorian writer than someone like Woolf or Joyce who both more closely embody modernism (the three were contemporaries which is why I compare them). 

Her heroine Stephen Gordon is said to be very close to Hall herself. She was also a rich couple’s only child and was attracted to women. The historic term which she used to describe herself was “invert” which was based on German sexology in the late 1800s and early 1900s; male inverts were thought to have female souls and female inverts were thought to have male souls. Hall’s novel featured a main character who was a female invert, like she herself was. Likely Hall would either be a butch lesbian or trans today (we can’t say which because she lived before there was a clear delineation between those two identities; the two communities have been extremely close historically). 

Stephen’s relationships to her parents and her first crush on one of the young maids is detailed in this section of the book. She’s closer to her father than her mother. She idolizes both her parents who don’t really seem to know what to do with her. She’s protective of her hyperfeminine mother and tries to copy her father and the stable master whom she comes to trust as a good friend. 

Her father is also shown secretly studying a German theory of sexology book late at night (Ulrichs) because he thinks his daughter is an invert. Hall did eventually go study in Germany as a young woman so that’s probably where she learned about these theories herself. Weimar Germany had surprisingly progressive attitudes towards LGBT people and had one of the biggest gay and trans communities in Europe in the 1910s and 1920s. Hall went there in the early 1910s before WWI and that’s where she met one of the major loves of her life, the singer, Mable Batten. 

Hall’s faith (she was a Catholic) informs this novel much more than I had expected. Young Stephen becomes obsessed with trying to cure the Maid Collin’s injured knee by praying to Jesus to take the pain instead. She also directly says she’s fine with taking punishment if she’s caught thinking about Collins when she’s supposed to be doing her school work. Hall doesn’t shy away from the intensity of Stephen’s feelings; the rawness of her characters’ emotion reminds me of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights (an instant favorite for me). If you’re going to love you may as well love with a reckless abandon that borders on madness or religious devotion (take your pick). Both Hall and E. Bronte would agree on this point. 

Collins is dismissed for an affair with the footman, who is also sacked. Stephen’s next obsession is her horse that her father buys her for her birthday who- I really wish I was kidding-she also names Collins. There was known coding between women and horses in Victorian pornography so much of her audience would know what she’s doing here but even without that connection; Hall’s basically winking at us here because she made it so obvious that we know the insinuation. 

Not even fifty pages into the book and I can already see why 1920′s England lost it’s mind over this. I am a 21st century American Lesbian myself and some of my reactions at different points were also- “Did she really just say that? Oh, girl...” And yes, she did. Hall wrote extremely clearly so it’s impossible to mistake or misinterpret her message as anything else. 

This is the story of a masculine little girl who grows up to realize that she absolutely adores women (to the point of her own self-destruction, at times, which is a whole ‘nother level of ouch to read especially if you’re WLW yourself).

Hall did not shy way or back down when challenged in court over the matter at her censorship trial. Say what you want about the girls and horses, but hats off to Hall for making a valiant attempt to defend gay rights and gay love through penning this novel.

#my grad degree mostly focuses on British literature #I opted for that though at my school you can choose American or British or do a mix of both #sorry I like the Brontes Austen Woolf and now add Hall to the pile #I was raised on British media/humor so I'm a weird flavor of American #My Dad was a big Tolkein and Beatles fan and that kind of started it for me #also they're historic dramas and period pieces are class #radclyffe hall #yeah she's a bit cheeky isn't she #you did what no one else could #the well of loneliness #I still like her even though she's giving me major emotional whiplash #because some of this is sad and some it is funny #stephen gordon #this is probably going to be related to future research and fiction for me #grad school #books #bookblr #my chatter #lesbian writers #lgbt literature #classic lgbt lit #brit lit #background and notes #the other original butch feral horsegirl #Anne Bronte's Matilda is still older since she's from 1847 but wow if they aren't almost the same character archetype #want to compare notes? :) #I self-assigned this one #I would fight someone for Radclyffe Hall #very inspiring #I bet she also spoke German too! :O

[cup-and-chaucer]

My Month in Books: January 2023

I really struggled with reading this month. After nearly reaching 50 at the end of last year and coupled with a crazy work month, I haven’t felt the most motivated to read or felt pressured by the internal numbers game. Which is something I never subscribed to until I realized that reading 50 books was a possibility for me. Seeing how much other people read does impact me more than I would like to think it does.

Still, I read three! And it was proof that I need to get back to the mindset that 2 books a month is a good goal to keep me in the habit, that reading a lot is not the same thing as reading well, and that our reading numbers fluctuate for all sorts of reasons.

Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies by Maddie Mortimer: First of all, this bitch is MY age and the sophistication of this story is so upsetting to me. Maps tells the story of Lia, a happily married mother of a young daughter, who is diagnosed with terminal cancer. The book flips back and forth between Lia’s present process of dying, Lia’s past being raised the daughter of an evangelical minister and her abusive first relationship, and the voice of her cancer. I so, so, so enjoyed this. The second quarter of this book was a little muddy but it really stuck the landing. The perspective she has on Matthew is so interesting and felt very real to me. From the outsider’s perspective, we can see that a teenager and a twenty-something should…like not be dating. The way that MM shows how being with someone with that sort of critical age difference impacts Lia’s relationship to herself, her self-worth and confidence, isolates her from her peer group, makes her lonely before any physical abuse has even occurred is really subtle. The implication that what abuse looks like can be different, can be subtle, can even be unintentional is so good here—Matthew gets with Lia, I think, initially less from a sense of power but rather from a profound immaturity without understanding the profound implications of a fifteen year old having sex with a twenty-one year old. The idea that she views this relationship as a romance, even after it’s violent conclusion and takes on some of the blame for the fact that Matthew abuses her, still, years later, I think is also really well-done. It’s a complicated dynamic and MM allows us to be immersed in an uncomfortable, unsafe, and unreconciled point of view. The twist at the end, the idea that we’ve been living inside a retelling of Wuthering Heights the whole time made me lose my mind, I will not lie to you. I get why people will not like this book the way I did. I think so much of my enjoyment has to do with the fact that I listened on audio and so the things that felt gimmicky in print and might have driven me crazy if I was reading a physical copy of the book. this book is flawed, certainly, and could have used with some grounding but!!! I still gave it 5 stars. (Recommended via Jen Campbell’s YouTube Channel)

The 13 Clocks by James Thurber: This was a perfect read for a snowy day!! I read this in two big gulps. It’s a delightfully dark children’s book about an evil Duke who keeps his niece, the beautiful Saralinda, captive in a cold castle. A prince, with the aid of a magical creature called a Golux, go on a mission to rescue her. It’s Jacobean and whimsical and dark. I think that if I had read this as a child I would have lost my mind and it would have altered my brain chemistry. It’s fun as an adult because the pattern of the language is so much fun to chew on but I literally cannot wait to read this to a kid. Neil Gaiman listed it as one of his favorite books and I have an interview with him about this book queued up and I can’t wait to hear more.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt: I have finally read it! And I am in the camp that loved it lol. I think its use of perspective is brilliant, the characters and setting are so well-drawn. It is truly immersive. What I don’t see people talking enough about is how poundingly funny it is? People talk about adapting it into a film or show and it always sounds so serious and it’s like…this would literally be Derry Girls with murder. I do have two criticisms which is…I think the last third is quite bloated and loses focus. I also think that Charles’ descent and apparent control and jealousy over Camilla needed more set up….like, her and Henry’s relationship felt very complete even while it occurred off-screen and I had the impression that incest could be a twist early on but…I felt like it needed more flesh to it. But other than that, so so so so good. I do think it hits a little different if you went to a small New England liberal arts college…like there were parts that rang uncomfortably true about the culture of Hampden. And having lived in the area where it was set for many years…there’s a mythology to the region that DT plays on really well.

#my month in books #the secret history #donna tartt #maddie mortimer #maps of our spectacular bodies #james thurber #13 Clocks

[fabien-euskadi]

✍️

🥀

🎼

:)

✍️ - favourite work of literature?

To be brutally honest, I am not exactly sure if this is the best piece of literature of all times, although it’s one of the most celebrated romances ever written - and, make no mistake, one of the most amazing (and, sometimes, brutal). It also has the most intriguing and fascinating protagonist - that also happens to be the villain of the story. As you may have guessed, I am talking about the only romance ever written by Miss Emily Brontë, the amazing Wuthering Heights.

But we can ignore its intrinsic value and look at this novel from a personal point of view. I was 17 or 18 when I first read it, and, immediately, there was an epiphany - it was the moment when I realized that I was going to be a writer, no matter what happened. Obviously, life’s turns and twists didn’t make it all that simple, and my constant self-doubt made the rest... but I am still working on it, I am still running after my goal, my fate, my destiny. And I am not going to give up, I know I have the skill, the will - it’s my fate, it was written in the starts on the day I was born.

Anyway, it’s the only thing I can do properly. All my life since then has been related, in one way or another, with writing.

🥀 - favourite fictional friendship/couple?

Judging by my previous reply, you could feel tempted to presume that I was going to chose Heatcliff and Catherine. But no. The relationship between those two has simply sickly obsessive, violent, destructive and self-destructive, full of rage, resentment, hate. It’s fascinating to look at it, but… my favourite? No.

But I need to choose a couple, right?

The problem is that I am fascinated by tragic heroes and tragic heroes, despite being the motor of good stories, are always doomed creatures.

In the end, I decided I was going to chose Toto and Helena, from Nuovo Cinema Paradiso. Yes, it was a ill-fated romance, but the meaning of their story, their romantic failure leads to the final scene of the whole film (yes, THAT wonderful, wonderful scene), whose meaning is simply devastatingly amazing. I too should take a note or two from that final - not to copy or even to take any inspiration for my novels, but as lesson for life.

🎼 - favourite song & artist/composer?

I would not be me if I had just a favourite song and a favourite artist/composer.

Instead, I am going to chose whatever I am listening right now. If I am listening to it, it is my favourite band and song, at least for a few minutes.

The band in question should be from Bolivia or Peru, but, oddly enough, they are from Porto Alegre Brazil. The band is called Tierramystica... and, by all the gods, it’s an absolute tragedy that these guys are not HUGELY successful. Make no mistake, the quality of their music is simply outstanding - it’s also original, extremely melodic and, at spaces, ethereal. Basically, we are talking about a exquisite fusion of melodic (power) metal with Andean music -  and that means that, together with the usual electric guitars, bass, drums and keyboards, they also use pan flutes, ocarinas, charangos, quenas and so on.

The song I am listening right now is “Shine, Once Again”... and it’s, probably, the best from their second album, “Heirs of the Sun”.

(thank you)

[sarah-aliterarylife]

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

One of my earliest memories is of finding a treasure trove. I was in my Aunt and Uncle’s house (a beautiful house in a small village outside Wolverhampton, that is still the model for the type of house I would like to live in one day), sitting in front of a gigantic wooden bookcase. Or at least it seemed gigantic, to my young eyes. It was filled with books of every size and colour. Some were very old, leather-bound books, and some were newer editions, with colourful jackets and pictures on the front cover. One title caught my eye instantly. It was bright red, small, and bound in leather. The cover and pages were worn, and it had clearly been read and enjoyed many times. It was called Jane Eyre.

I remember opening the book and reading the small text on the first page. It said, “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day”. Why? I was intrigued. I read onwards. But after a few lines, I was confused. Who was speaking? Was this Jane Eyre? Who were the other people the mysterious narrator mentioned – Mrs Reed, John, Eliza and Georgiana? They couldn’t be Jane’s family, surely? They didn’t share her name. Why was she lurking in the window seat, "cross legged like a Turk?" Why was she observing the family but not joining them around the fireplace? The language stuck in my throat (“The said John and Eliza”) and made no sense. After reading a couple of pages, I put the book down.

The next time I visited, I returned to the treasure trove of books and once again Jane Eyre caught my eye. This time, I asked to take it home with me and started again. I made it a bit further on this second go around, and solved the mystery of who the Reed family were in relation to Jane (Mrs Reed is her widowed Aunt, and the three children are her cousins). I recall being very saddened by the cruelty Jane experiences during her time with the Reed family, and wondering why no one seemed to love this lonely little girl. When Jane is shortly afterwards sent away to Lowood school, I felt a strong sense of injustice when, having finally been given a chance to make friends and spend time around other like-minded children, she is branded a liar and the other children are instructed not to befriend her. I think at this point my sensitive young mind found the novel simply too upsetting, and I decided I couldn’t read another word.

Years later, I attended a university lecture on the concept of the madwoman in the attic. I remembered my previous attempts at reading Jane Eyre, and that shamefully, as a child I had given up on it. I remembered how much I had enjoyed Wuthering Heights and wanted to read something similarly engrossing and dramatic. I suddenly developed an urge to give it another try. But I was in Newcastle upon Tyne, and that beautiful red leather copy was back at home in Walsall (a 3-and-a-half-hour train journey away). So, the next day, I walked to my local book shop, Blackwell’s, and purchased a copy.

That night, I sat down to begin again – this time, I didn’t stop until I had finished. Night after night, I would settle in with the autobiography of Jane Eyre, and I can say without doubt that each new instalment thrilled me. This wasn’t a sad story about intense cruelty, with a terrible denouement for its characters, like Wuthering Heights. It is instead the story of a survivor, of someone who rises above the cruelty and anxiety of her childhood to become a passionate woman with a distinct sense of self-worth. It is also about the internal struggle between Jane’s desire to be loved, and her desire for freedom. After I finished the book, I missed it terribly.

For those who have never read Jane Eyre, it tells the story of an orphaned girl who, when her parents die, is sent to live with her cruel aunt and cousins (the widowed Mrs Reed, John, Eliza and Georgiana), who treat her as less than a servant. After angering the difficult Mrs Reed one too many times, she is sent away to Lowood school, where she befriends the introverted Helen Burns and eventually stays on to work as a teacher. After teaching for two years, Jane longs for new experiences out in the wider world, and accepts a position at Thornfield Manor, where she befriends the housekeeper, Mrs Fairfax, and teaches a lively young girl named Adele. Adele is the ward of Mr Rochester, a mysterious man with whom Jane finds herself falling in love. Jane and Rochester begin a tentative romance which culminates in a marriage proposal. However, on their wedding day, Jane discovers that Mr Rochester is already married: to Bertha Mason, whom he married in Jamaica as a young man. The mentally disturbed Bertha now lives at Thornfield, isolated in the attic with her nurse. Appalled and horrified, Jane flees Thornfield and is forced to sleep outside, penniless and begging for food. She is rescued by the Rivers family, three kindly siblings who take her in and help her to find work at a local school. St John Rivers eventually proposes marriage and a new life overseas as a missionary. However, after hearing Rochester’s voice calling her name one night over the moors, Jane realises that she cannot abandon the man she loves. She returns to Thornfield to find that it has been burnt to the ground by Bertha Mason, and Rochester has been left blinded. At his new residence Ferndean, Jane and Rochester re-build their relationship and eventually marry.

For readers who have read both Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, we can make a series of comparisons between the two works. Both contain elements of the gothic. An isolated house in a moody, windswept location. An anti-hero / love interest in the forms of Heathcliff and Mr Rochester. But while Cathy and Heathcliff’s story ends in tragedy, with the male protagonist made only more bitter by the events of the novel, Jane and Rochester’s story ends happily, with him redeemed and changed by her love. It is important to note at this point that, particularly for readers interested in the feminist aspects of Jane Eyre, that their relationship is reconciled on Jane’s terms. Throughout the novel, Jane largely enjoys economic autonomy, working independently and engaging in useful and worthwhile work as a governess and teacher. She desires a marriage based on love and companionship, not for financial gain or a loveless partnership. Her experiences with Reed family and at Lowood school bestow her with a strong self of her own self worth. When St John Rivers proposes marriage following her split with Rochester, it is based not on feelings on love but a partnership based around a common purpose. She refuses his proposal. Following the reveal of Rochester’s wife in the attic, she also refuses to stay at Thornfield, horrified at the thought of living as his mistress.

That copy of Jane Eyre bought from Blackwell’s bookshop still sits on my bookshelf. It is now missing a front page but is otherwise largely intact. I have returned to it several times over the years. What I love most about Jane Eyre is her ability to survive, no matter what life throws at her. Her influence on my life has been enormous. She showed me that it is possible to survive. No matter what terrible events come our way, we have the ability to survive. Life goes on, whether we like it or not, and we can either choose to move forwards with it or remain trapped within each situation or feeling.

In my life, I have been made redundant several times. I have had two breast cancer scares. My heart has been broken so badly I thought that it would never mend. I have reached out in friendship to people who took advantage of my kindness. I have struggled throughout my adult life with bouts of depression, the most recent of which was so serious that even considering writing about it terrifies me. But somehow, I survived. I chose to survive. A small part of me refused to be beaten. She kept going, chose to get out of bed each morning and hold her head high. She chose to move forwards and choose happiness.

Jane Eyre is a book that everyone should read at least once in their life. In addition to the theme of survival, it is a novel about the struggles between passion and conscience, wanting to belong versus being an outsider, wanting to be loved versus the desire for autonomy. The plot is evenly paced, and it is never boring (despite what my 7-year-old self would have told you!) It is not a difficult novel to read, with such well-developed descriptions of Jane’s emotions that it is hard not to feel moved. Many quotes from Jane Eyre have passed into common parlance. Try these on for size:

“Reader, I married him”.

“I would always rather be happy than dignified”.

“I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself”.

“I am no bird, and no net ensnares me.”

It says a lot about Jane Eyre and its influence on my life, that the last of these quotes now sits on the wall in my study, facing my desk.

At moments when I feel overwhelmed, when I feel anxious, trapped, or when I can feel myself slipping into the dark hole of depression, I take a moment to read that quote and remember that I am an independent human being. My self worth lies in my own hands, not in others. I can stay quiet, as I have done for so many years, or I can use my voice to say the things I want to say. I can wallow and lose myself in my current state, or I can choose to do as Jane does and pick myself up, move forwards and fly away from my troubles.

I choose the latter.

#book blogs #books and literature #books and reading #bookshelf

[josiebelladonna]

why are all the men in the green druidess’ fics always portrayed as really shitty.

i mean, aside from frankie bello, they’re all depicted as these shitty, shallow, one-note meat sacks who treat her heroine like garbage and their relationship is always borderline abusive. from the “running from something her past” trope in like loving the dead, and turns out that something was joey; “something happened in my past”, yeah he was poisoned, that’s what happened. which leads to peter turning into a total asshole (or not? the little piece of what i was shown of this latest chapter of that fic, it seemed totally harmless to me) and leads her heroine to nikki sixx—and from the little bit i saw with life after death, that’s not really the best idea.

all the men are really shitty and her heroine is an idiot (re: “first time you get bit, it’s not your fault. but the second time you go in for a petting, you knew.”) 

i mean, i get it if that’s the point. but it gets weird after a time, though, especially when i think about how she sits in my memory. no, not weird. disconcerting.

it gets really disconcerting really fast, knowing this mean person is taking the personae of musical men (who also happen to be dark-haired which is… very unsettling) and depicting them as horrible people. yeah, rpf is just by use of their image, but it confirms my descriptor of her fics as “mean-spirited”. they’re paranoid and overly clean in diction, they get on the nerves really quick, they’re quite problematic in a sense that she shamelessly copies, and they’re mean-spirited, in an ethical sense and in a sense of gender roles. add to this: holy shit, has that trope been done to death. i already don’t really like it to begin with, either: it’s just dumb and i don’t find it very entertaining. the biggest example of this trope that people point to is wuthering heights, but even that’s inaccurate because catherine knew that her love of heathcliff was wrong, but because of institutionalized racism and the fact heathcliff was an outsider. and then, after being treated like dirt for most of his life, he became an abuser in his own rite and you stop sympathizing with catherine and you see the big picture (and you instead feel bad for nelly having witnessed all this). it’s a book about generational trauma and how it’s inherited through the generations, and not only has this been completely discarded, but it’s been watered down and lost in translation so much through wattpad fanfictions that it’s troubling. (really, you read wuthering heights for the “romance”, i’m going to ask you if there was something in your past if you think catherine and heathcliff are a dream couple.)

i’m glad i’m taking the loren bouchard approach with my testament fics and the conflict comes from outside. it’s not just with dead man walking, either: i look back at fever and yeah, sam and alex started out not liking each other, but they warmed up to each other and alex eventually showed his kindness to her, and then they became friends followed by best friends and then at the very end, she confessed her love to him and he tells her he’s loved her since the moment he saw her, he just never knew how to admit it to her. what major conflict happens throughout that fic primarily comes from outside, driven home by the fact it was just the two of them at one point. yeah, they both slip—they both hold a lot inside, and there’s the scene where alex takes great umbrage to the fact sam drew him in the buff without his knowledge, but he realizes that there’s actually nothing wrong with it. 

but it was never anything like… “peter/joey/nikki, what’s wrong?” “THERE’S NOTHING WRONG, GET OUT!” *cries* “oh, baby, i’m sorry, come back” for chapters ad nauseam until she finally tells him to fuck off and yet she’s still heartbroken (you know, now that i write it out, i don’t get why people on wattpad are so enamored by this because it’s so uncomfortable, and more so when it’s just the same fic over and over again at its core. and it’s super on-the-nose, too, like i remember reading the silence and there was a whole section that basically spelled out the entire plot of the fic without a shred of creativity to it). flowers for alexander has the alleged affair between florence and eric but they reconcile and their relationship is mostly wholesome. the real tension is with eric and alex, and also alex and francine: a gay angle and an unrequited thing, too. and with the sci-fi stuff going on in the background, too.

like blood from a stone has the pressure of the royalty and the arranged marriage trope as well as the whole soulmate trope.

eerie inhabitants has the vampires and the things the sisters have to deal with: lily and abby are otherwise partners in crime, because they kind of have to be, their home life blows and the end of the world might happen without their knowing.

in fact, iirc, now it’s dark was like this, too: joey and lars were different à la men in black but they accepted each other because they had to, and they grew and had an arc that way.

blood & chocolate, love is not enough, and—gonna spill the beans a bit—black moon are just about awakening. alex awakening to himself in tandem with my own awakening (with the latter two, it’s through jay, q, and christine). whatever internal conflict there is, it’s always like… “my true love is elsewhere”, or “my friends and i are facing titanic challenges from the outside and i have to leave my bullshit at the door because we have each other”, or “i want to overcome sexual anxiety so i can be at peace”, or “my love left in some irreversible fashion and i’m alone but there are too many questions and this other person seems to get me about that.” there’s always a theme of unity in my fics. i like the loren bouchard/buddy movie approach because it’s fun, but there’s nothing fun about the druidess’ writing, though.  i can only hope that her intent is in a better place.

understand: i don’t want to compare myself to her because it’s ridiculous, but it’s hard not to when i look at her stats in comparison to me and i can’t help but ask questions and be a serious critic for a second.

#let’s have some fun this weekend 🔥 #fanfic #ao3 writer #text

[pemberlaey]

end of the year reading survey

I was tagged by @bloody-wonder (thanks!!) 

How many books did you read? Did you meet your goal? 

I read 45 books this year! My original goal was 40 but I passed it so I made  it 45 but I’ll have read 46 by the time the year ends! 

Most read genre? 

Classic lit with fantasy as a close second! 

Longest and shortest books you read. 

Longest was Order of the Phoenix (I did a HP reread to cope with the stress of grad school lol) and the shortest was The Rape of Lucrece  

Favorite book published in 2021? 

I actually didn’t read any books published in 2021 

Favorite debut book in 2021? 

My favorite debut book I read in 2021 was The Night Circus by Erin Morganstern. Truly one of the best books I’ve ever read. 

Favorite book not published this year? 

I’m going to have to go with The Night Circus again. Hands down my favorite book I read this year that wasn’t a reread

A book that lived up to the hype. 

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. Two of my friends recommended it to me and I’ve seen it hyped up online and it was so good

A book that did NOT live up to the hype. 

Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer :/ I had a feeling I was gonna hate it and I was right. I’m definitely not a scifi girl. To be fair I didn’t read it by choice it was assigned by my theory professor but I really did not like it 

Book that felt like the biggest accomplishment. 

idk if I’d call this an accomplishment per say but I finally read Wuthering Heights this year and it was phenomenal! I was also in a Shakespeare class this semester so I read a Shakespeare Play every Friday for the whole semester which was so fun. 

Favorite character. 

I’m assuming this means out of the characters I met this year and not of all time given the nature of these questions so definitely Anne from Persuasion, Celia from The Night Circus and Addie from The Invisible Life of Addie Larue 

Least favorite character. 

(I’m also gonna assume this means least fav character from a book I read this year) Either Mrs. Appleyard from Picnic at Hanging Rock or Bobbi from Conversations with Friends. Also ik this doesn’t count b/c it was a reread but Mr. Rochester can choke 

Most shocking book/moment. 

Definitely the ending of Addie Larue! I won’t elaborate b/c spoilers! 

Favorite couple/OTP. 

Celia and Marco from The Night Circus and Anne and Captain Wentworth from Persuasion <3

The best written book you read this year. 

Probably The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry 

Book that you pushed the most people to read in 2021. 

I got my sisters into Much Ado About Nothing this year which was fun! 

Favorite book cover of the year. 

Obsessed with the cover on the special edition of If We Were Villains that came out this year. Truly an impulse purchase that I do not regret! 

Favorite book adaptation. 

I loved the Shadow and Bone tv show so much can’t wait for season 2! I also can’t wait to see the new Macbeth movie I heard its incredible 

What book made you cry the most? 

I ugly cried during The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. I also got very emo during the HP reread

What book made you laugh the most? 

Red White & Royal Blue! Truly one of the funniest books I’ve ever read

A new favorite author you discovered this year. 

Jess Kidd! Things in Jars was so good I gotta read more of her stuff 

Favorite book you re-read this year. 

I reread my fav book (Pride and Prejudice) every summer and I reread If We Were Villains when I got my new copy and that is also one of my favs

What is the best non-fiction book you read this year? 

Not really a nonfiction girl but I did just get a biography of Jane Austen for the holidays that looks great! 

I’m tagging @spanish-leatherr @theelastword @partialto @adjoining @moscardo and anyone who wants to do it! 

#answers #literature #friends tag

[beewolfwrites]

An Iron Box - The Eternal Rocks

Apologies for the late update! My life has become a little hectic, so I haven’t been on Tumblr or AO3 as much. Hopefully I can make it up with new scenes that weren’t in AWIAF :) 

If you’re still following this fic, thank you for reading. It means the world <3

The AO3 link is here if you prefer reading it on there.

----------------------------------

I had stumbled across the copy of Wuthering Heights shortly after becoming an executive member. When I first moved into my room, it was tucked away in a drawer, and judging by the curled pages coated with dust, it had been there a while. I’d never cared enough to discard it, nor had I cared enough to read it. Until now.

The noon sunshine filtered through the windows as I sat on my bed, legs stretched out and book in hand. So far, it was a trivial mess – a ditsy story of childhood friends turned teenage lovers. Of course, this was the kind of book she would read. And if she really did have a Masters degree in literature, chances are she had already read it.

Yesterday, when I was called to the meeting room, I had an inkling as to what the fuss was about. And sure enough, there she was, dragged in like a stray by Niragi of all people. What terrible luck.

Well, for her at least.

Things had panned out just as I expected. If only she had come with me when I’d asked, she wouldn’t have had to deal with Aguni’s militants. They had given me the whole rundown of her Eight of Hearts game... how she’d solved it a little too late... how she’d accidentally set herself up by mentioning my name.

And now, I finally knew her name.

After showing her to her new room yesterday, I’d rolled it over on my tongue, memorising the foreign feel of it, the way the vowels stretched and consonants collided. It suited her, in a way. However, it seemed it would be a while before I could call her by it. According to the grapevine, she had disappeared into her room and hadn’t been seen since.

This morning, when I went downstairs to get breakfast, my eyes had instinctively scanned the crowded room, hoping to catch a familiar doe-eyed stare. But she was nowhere to be found.

‘Who are you looking for?’

Kuina had appeared beside me, balancing a bowl of cereal in one hand.

‘Nobody,’ I told her.

She wagged her finger, and through a mouthful of cereal, insisted, ‘don’t even think about lying to me. I can read you pretty well by now.’

I tried to ignore her noisy chewing. ‘I met a girl in a game.’

Kuina had wiggled her eyebrows at this, and something inside me instantly turned cold. If she thought I was involved in a petty romance then she could think again. I had no interest, and besides, this was hardly the place.

‘I believe we can use her in the plan. Niragi brought her in after a game yesterday.’

‘And there I was thinking you actually had a heart, hm?’ Kuina paused, her spoon dangling between her fingers. ‘I did hear there was a new girl, but nobody’s spoken to her yet. Do you want me to try and talk to her?’

I had mulled it over, but there was no point in rushing things. There was every chance she would emerge in her own time. It was like tempting a frightened animal out of its den and straight into a snare.

‘Not just yet,’ I said. ‘Let her feel hungry.’

‘You think she’ll come down for lunch?’

I smiled. ‘Probably not. But she’ll be hungry enough that when you do pay her a visit, she’ll want to trust you.’ Surveying the busy room, I added. ‘Keep an eye on the rumours. If she doesn’t come down in a few hours, bring her some food.’

‘Why me?’ Kuina scowled. ‘Why can’t you do it?’

Surely the reason was obvious. ‘She’s here because of me. I’m the last person she wants to speak to.’

Kuina had looked uncertain. But she couldn’t argue against it; we both knew I was right.

Now, several hours later, the sun was sinking and Kuina was probably about to pay (name) a visit. But I would leave that up to her. If Kuina befriended her, she would be much more willing to join our plan. Stretching my legs, I focused on the page in front of me.

‘It’s about life and finding meaning and purpose in everything.’

Her words from the pharmacy. Even now, they still rang clearly, haunting every recess of my mind. I didn’t care about finding meaning in life. I didn’t care at all. But I was curious about her obsession with fiction and poetry. What was it that drew her to books?  

What meaning does she see that I can’t?

My eyes landed on the words before me.

“My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.”

How could love be necessary? It wasn’t food or water. It couldn’t be quantified, had little value in life, and if anything, it was a weakness in the games. I had never once needed it myself, and here I was, still alive and breathing. The whole story was trivial, melodramatic and utterly pointless. And yet, my gaze was drawn to the next line and the next.

I suppose I could read it, even if only to ease this perpetual boredom.

“He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being—”

A bang rattled the windows as the door to my room flew open. Kuina was standing breathlessly in the doorway, that fake cigarette of hers clenched between her teeth.

‘You,’ she said, inviting herself in and moving towards the chest of drawers. ‘I need to borrow one of your hoodies.’

I flipped over to the next page. ‘Why?’

She yanked open each drawer one by one, plundering through the contents before slamming them shut. ‘I need a spare hoodie for (name). Or, you know, anything that’s not a string bikini.’

‘I see, so that’s why she was hiding.’ I smiled, eyes drifting over the page of my book. ‘What a stupid reason.’

Kuina glowered and jabbed a finger at me. ‘Oi, just because you’re too confident for your own good it doesn’t mean everyone else is. Tell me where your hoodies are now.’

I nodded at the cupboard. ‘The grey one on the left-hand side.’

She opened it up and pulled out the grey hoodie. Out of the three I owned this was the smallest. It was also the newest, having never been soiled by blood in a game before. ‘Are you sure?’

I shrugged and turned back to my book. ‘She can keep it.’

It may be useful to create a debt.

I expected Kuina to simply take the hoodie and leave me to read in peace. But she didn’t. She clenched the fabric in her fists, staring at it. Her jaw tightened around her plastic cigarette.  

‘Chishiya, she’s nice. She’s really nice.’

‘Everyone’s nice until you pit them against each other.’

She grimaced, fingers gripping the hoodie. ‘I don’t think... she’s not like that. What did you have planned with her anyway?’

‘We need someone to find the safe where the cards are kept. A guinea pig, so to speak. I’m going to set her up and we’ll take advantage of the distraction.’

Kuina looked uncomfortable with the idea. ‘I’m just not sure about this.’

Sighing, I gave up trying to read and snapped the book shut. ‘If you’re not sure, then drop out. I’ll leave with the cards and you can stay right here.’

Of course, Kuina was smart enough to know what the Beach would descend into once it became apparent that the cards were missing. And if I went missing along with them, she would be the first person they’d turn to. Judging by the look on her face, she seemed to be thinking the same thing.

‘Fine,’ she agreed at last. ‘But of all the people to choose, she really doesn’t deserve this.’

I smiled, thinking back to Niragi’s overdramatic retelling of their game. Apparently, it was a game of laser tag with handguns. She had shot a teenage girl in the chest and emerged without a scratch.

‘Perhaps you’ll think differently if you see her in a Hearts game,’ I said. ‘It’s human nature to be selfish.’

It’s human nature to kill in order to survive.

With a small hiss of disapproval, Kuina trailed out of the room and left me alone, taking the grey hoodie with her.

Finally.

Picking up the book once more, I scanned over the words on the page. The entire plot made no sense. Cathy’s choice was obvious right from the beginning – Linton offered protection and financial security. It was everything she needed to live comfortably, so what was the issue? Why would a person be so caught up just because of a childhood sweetheart? Heathcliff was equally as ridiculous, running away like a brat just because she said a few words behind his back. This was a book for naïve idiots.

No wonder she likes it.

And yet, I read and read until the sun slunk behind the skyline, the darkness creeping in slowly through the curtains until it became too dark to read. I could have easily turned on the bedside lamp and continued, but perhaps it was time to see how things were going with Kuina and (name).

The sooner they were friends, the easier this would become.  

Getting up, I left my room and headed downstairs. It was right before the games began – the time when the Beach was at its most lively, and everyone was busy living in the moment just in case these turned out to be their final moments.

I passed by a couple furiously groping one another behind a pillar.

People are all the same.

Stepping outside onto the patio, I scanned the throngs of drunken idiots stumbling around in a haze of skin, sex and drugs. And then I caught a glimpse of that familiar face, standing by the bar and dressed in my hoodie. A man was beside her.

And you are just like them.

For a moment, I simply watched on as the man – one of Niragi’s troupe – tried to make conversation with her. Considering the sheer volume of the music and her self-taught Japanese, I wondered if she understood him. Taking her drink from the bartender, she smiled and said something undecipherable before taking a step away.

Bad move. A gun glinted, pressing into her side.

Oh?

The look on her face told me everything. She wasn’t flirting with him after all. And now it was all too clear what this man wanted from her.

Such an unpleasant welcome.

Perhaps I should have just left her to it, since this was the true face of the Beach, the drop of cold hard reality hidden behind the façade of a utopia. Perhaps I should have her deal with the situation on her own, for better or worse. But how could I? This was a perfect opportunity to regain her trust.

I sidled up to the bar, glancing between the half-drunken idiot and (name), who was standing there wavering like a ghost. Her expression was detached yet poised, like a rabbit on the verge of fleeing. But she couldn’t – not with the hand wrapped around her wrist and the pistol set just below her ribs.

‘What’s this?’ I leaned against the countertop. ‘I see you’ve met our newest member.’

(Name) blinked, only just noticing my presence. I glanced down at the pistol, the barrel half-hidden in the fabric of her hoodie. My hoodie.

‘You should probably put that thing away. Hatter won’t be too happy if you start messing with her. He’s got high expectations of her.’

The militant only pushed the gun further into her torso, standing up straighter in a useless attempt at intimidating me. ‘You know, Chishiya, I’m pretty sick of you interfering all the time. You should stay out of militant business.’

I almost smiled. This man wasn’t even an executive member. ‘Militant business,’ I said slowly. ‘It’s fascinating what you guys do. You take out the trash and dish out the sentence, but you never check the evidence.’

He bristled, his finger tightening over the trigger. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Just shut up and stay out of this.’

Typical. Do I have to spell things out to everyone?

‘What I’m saying,’ I replied, ‘is that you never bother checking to see if the ‘traitors’ are actually traitors. It’s surprisingly easy to slip a few cards into someone else’s room.’

I met his gaze pointedly, watching as he finally started to come to an understanding. He squeezed (name’s) wrist until her fingers blotched white and purple, before finally letting go.

Pushing his face close to mine, he whispered a slurred mess that sounded a lot like ‘threaten me again and I’ll end you’, before striding off into the crowd. It wasn’t much of a threat, coming from someone who couldn’t quite walk in a straight line. But no matter, I wasn’t here for him.

I was vaguely aware of (name) watching me as I turned back to the bar. The bartender was wiping glasses, unbothered by what had just happened. He saw worse every day.

‘お水をください,’ I said. Water, please.

A glass was placed in front of me, and I calmly sipped my water, waiting patiently for the inevitable. About now, she was probably itching to thank me, but wondering how best to do it. An over-thinker, that’s what she was.

When she finally spoke, it was so quiet I could have easily missed it, if only I hadn’t been expecting it. ‘Thanks... I’m guessing stuff like that’s pretty common around here.’

You catch on fast.

‘Well, there are only three rules,’ I said, assessing the grey hoodie. It had been slightly too small on me but was oversized on her. ‘Right now, you’re not allowed to go roaming the city alone because you’re still new, and that makes you a liability. But the next time you’re in a game, you’ll be paired with one of the executives, or someone else with a high rank. If you ask, they’ll go with you to find new clothes.’

She looked mildly surprised. Had Kuina not mentioned that it was mine? If so, I wonder how she would react once she found out. Perhaps this was a tidbit of information I should keep to myself for now.

Speaking of Kuina, I could see her now, watching me nervously through the crowds from a recliner on the other side of the patio.

‘Of all the people to choose, she really doesn’t deserve this.’

Perhaps not. But that’s what made her perfect for the job.

#alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

[justforbooks]

‘I couldn’t be with someone who liked Jack Reacher’: can our taste in books help us find love?

Readers are in demand on dating sites, with one focused entirely on bringing book-lovers together. But is our taste in literature truly a good indication of compatibility?

“He mentioned in his bio that he liked Virginia Woolf and I was like, ‘Ah! The dream boy,” says Francesca, 34, who met her boyfriend Andy on Tinder. They spent two years as friends, exchanging books and chatting about Mrs Dalloway, until one day Francesca had a revelation during lockdown: “I was like, I miss you so much – I think I love you,” she says.

Andy gave her an illustrated collection of love letters between Woolf and her lover Vita Sackville-West: “If there’s anything that inspired our relationship it would be a lesbian love story from the 1930s,” she says. Last year, they went to Hampton Court for “a Vita and Virginia date,” she says. “We joke we’ll get some fish named after them, too.”

Readers are in demand on dating apps. In 2017 eHarmony found that women who expressed an interest in books on their profiles received 3% more messages than the average, while men saw a massive 19% jump. (Literary men are extremely desirable, as the 1.3m followers of the Hot Dudes Reading Instagram account can attest.) Book Lovers, a site founded in 2010 for readers looking for romance with other readers, now has 3,000 members.

But, unlike most dating apps, there’s no algorithm on Book Lovers to match brooding Byron fans or wistful Woolf enthusiasts. “We prefer to leave it to serendipity,” says Book Lovers co-founder David Unwin. “It gives people an easy conversation starter – ‘Who are your favourite authors?’, ‘What are you reading at the moment?’ It’s a slower approach than some sites, such as Tinder, but we think it’s a more human one and will lead to longer-lasting relationships.”

But Hayley Quinn, dating coach at Match.com who has amassed more than 100,000 YouTube subscribers thanks to her frank relationship advice, is sceptical of a love based on literature. “Shared interests can be a bit of a red herring,” she says. “The big compatibility things are how you communicate with each other and what ideas you have around commitment. If you absolutely despise your date’s favourite author, it could lead to a really fun and heated conversation and send sparks flying – but it wouldn’t necessarily set up for long-term compatibility.”

Beth, a 25-year-old book blogger from Berkshire, has tried to find love both with and without literature. “I’ve had two long-term relationships in my life and one of them has been with a reader and one of them hasn’t,” she says. “I think there’s something beautiful for me in sitting down with someone that you care about and picking up a book and enjoying that together, rather than one of you scrolling through their phone. There’s a level of intellect that’s untapped. When you both read, it just allows for discussion and debate that can go on for hours. It’s fascinating.”

Like anyone looking for love, readers have their own dating red flags. Some are running jokes online – male readers who profess to love David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest are widely suspected to be chauvinists or show-offs looking to impress – but other put-offs are more personal. “I’d have a problem being with someone who really liked Jack Reacher,” says James, a 63-year-old Book Lovers user in Canterbury. “They’re competent novels but I like DH Lawrence and Joseph Conrad. When I was at university, liking DH Lawrence would make you kind of trendy. Although, I did leave Oxford a virgin … so it didn’t really work.”

Without an app, many bibliophiles discover the horror lurking in their suitor’s shelves only when they make it as far as the bedroom. “I fell head over heels for a guy who worked with my friend,” says 25-year-old Emma from London. “On the third date he invited me over to cook dinner for me. I walked in and knew it would never work. His shelves were filled with science fiction cartoon books. That was it. And they were alphabetised.”

Meanwhile, Katie, 25, who coupled up on a night out, was put off by her date’s judgment of her own reading tastes. “He was beautiful, brown-eyed, knew how to use apostrophes – husband material,” she says. “One evening we went back to mine and he was looking at my bookshelf. I had The Secret History by Donna Tartt and Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh. He said, ‘I’m a big bookworm but some of these are a bit cliche,’ in a really standoffish manner, which I couldn’t tell if I found sexy or not. I asked, ‘Well, what else do you like reading,’ and he goes, ‘I really like this thing called Lord of the Rings’. He’d literally only read those three books.”

Far from empty snobbery, research suggests judging someone on their literary tastes can provide a telling insight into their personality. A 2016 scientific study involving more than 3,000 students at the University of Texas concluded that romance readers are warm and understanding, poetry lovers are calm and introspective, erotic novel enthusiasts are outgoing and incautious, while non-fiction lovers are well organised and self-assured.

Quinn acknowledges that reading has certain compatibility indicators. “Books,” she says, “could be one way to see if someone has a similar world view to us. If you like the same sort of books, there’s an argument you could have a similar education or background.”

On the hunt for love, a dating service catering to readers may not replace the magic of a chance encounter. “If you have this coincidental, Notting Hill meeting with someone, that creates a better platform to lend more significance to them in your mind,” says Quinn. “When we look at lots of dating profiles, we get banner blind that there are actual humans behind them. It’s not that there are better quality people at a bookshop, but we really associate things like coincidence and serendipity with sparks flying and romance.”

Luckily for bookworms, touching hands with a stranger when reaching for the same copy of Wuthering Heights may not be as rare as it sounds. Daunt Books manager Brett Croft says many couples have locked eyes in the long oak galleries and quiet corners of their Edwardian Marylebone store in London. “People often ask if they can propose or get married here because that’s where they met,” he says. “People hide rings in the book that sparked their original conversation. And all they said was, ‘That’s a fantastic book, you should read it.’”

But whether a love for books really helps in the search for romance, for some singletons it’s non-negotiable, no matter what the science says. “I feel like I owe it to myself to be able to find somebody that has this one thing in common with me,” says Beth. “There’s something in books – the sheer wonder of being able to jump in and explore a complete other world. I want to be with somebody who understands that.”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS

[alesreadings]

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.

4.5 stars.

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

Cath... by Death Cab of Cutie (one of my fave bands in the world) was inspired by Wuthering Heights and I think it's beautiful in so many ways. If you haven't read the book and don't want to spoil yourself, read no further; my review contains some minor and major spoilers. Wuthering Heights portrays the tragedy of a couple who didn't get their happy ending, who were abruptly separated and how hatred, passion, love, revenge and toxicity made life hell for many, including the couple themselves. I read this novel about seven or eight years ago, but never counted it as reading because I didn't remember anything about it until today. I think that when I read it for the first time, I did not understand exactly the meaning of many things that this time I analyzed more deeply. Despite this novel being a homework assignment, I must admit that I quite enjoyed reading it and I am grateful that my sister had the physical copy even though she never read it in her youth because reading seemed, and I think still does, boring to her and she showed disinterest in it. Anyway, let's move to the review. Mr. Lockwood arrives at Wuthering Heights and when his landlord shows him in, he finds the atmosphere very gruff and unfriendly, although he can't explain why everyone acts as if they hate their own and everyone else's existence. At first, even I wondered, and it seemed to me that everyone was bitter in character and sullen. Later, Lockwood discovers that there is a ghost there and it is someone Heathcliff is looking for, longing for and missing. When Lockwood moves on to Thrush Farm, and asks Mrs. Dean to tell him who Cath is and the story of Wuthering Heights. In the end, Mrs. Dean tells the whole story up to the present. I found the writing beautiful. It shows a gloomy atmosphere, full of darkness and tragedy. I read it in two languages: English and Spanish, since as y'all know, my native language is Spanish and some English words are still difficult for me, so I decided to read it in both languages. The writing is quite dramatic and tragic at the same time. The characters are complex and at the same time, one can come to dislike them. I believe that Emily's initial purpose was to show us sullen characters, to make us feel apathy and curiosity for them, to the point of immersing us in the story as Nelly narrates the events from the beginning. I must admit that at first, I felt sorry for Heathcliff and that I thought he deserved more, that despite not being able to express his feelings for Catherine, he actually loved her. However, things changed as time went on and Heathcliff "matured" and grew up. He became a vindictive, aggressive, violent and nasty man. What started out as a romance and passion, ended up becoming an obsession and disgrace, which would lead to more tragedy and drama. Catherine annoyed me all the time: she was haughty, arrogant, dramatic and indecisive. From the beginning she came across as manipulative and it also seemed to me that she suffered from some bipolar disorder or some mental illness, but I didn't specify which, if any. She didn't want to marry Heathcliff because it would embarrass her, but she didn't want to leave him alone; I didn't understand her logic exactly. Hareton didn't deserve everything he had in his life, but he couldn't do anything about it, as his father was a drunkard and an inveterate gambler, and he was taken from the arms of Nelly, who could have given him a better education, manners and life. Cathi was someone very sweet at the beginning, tantrum like her mother too, but more cheerful and dynamic. Her marrying Linton was something that made me rage, as Linton was using her and she didn't want to see him, but cared for him as if she owed him something. But she realized that and ended up hating him. I'm glad at least she fell in love with Hareton. I ship them, but they are cousins and omg Sweet Home Alabama. I don't know if I should call Heathcliff and Catherine's relationship a "romance," because it was tremendously toxic. From start to finish, or at least, from the time they

were teenagers until they died. THIS novel is the mold for novels with toxic and tragic romances. Catherine's "love" and emotional manipulation drove Heathcliff to madness and perpetual torment. Edgar was just another victim of Cath's angry outbursts, making him an unhappy wretch. I doubt very much that Heathcliff and Catherine actually loved each other, or perhaps they did in the beginning, but what started out as a romance, ended up becoming a toxic relationship that haunted the next generation of children thereafter. It was actually pretty good, and I was here for the gossip, lol.

#wuthering heights #emily bronte #reviews #classics #edits #edit #mine #4.5 stars #19th century #books i own #british literature #goth #drama #tragedy #fiction #historical fiction #historical #historical romance #homeworks #romance #literature #standalone