#I have read this book so many times and this first chapter is one of my favorites in it

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin��. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[azelsdoormat]

Azel Radwan Main Story

► Chapter 0

This translation is fanmade and strictly for entertainment purposes only. All media and original content belong to Cybird. Do not use, claim as your own, repost or reupload onto other platforms, reblogs are welcome.

Content Warning: mentions of child abuse, graphic descriptions of violence, gore?, generally disturbing content.

True love — to me, is the most evil of curses that must never befall me.

…

Azel: High Priest… please… stop

The whip tore into human flesh, and the blood-curdling screams of my beloved brothers rang through the air.

The cold, hard floor was stained bright red with the blood dripping from their torn fingernails. It was an image burned into those so-called “divine eyes” that would never fade. 

The grotesque sight, as horrifying as every nightmare in the world combined, unfolded before my eyes.

And I, this powerless god, could do nothing but scream and cry until my voice went hoarse. 

Azel: I beg of you. I’ll do anything you say. 

Azel: It’s all my fault for being a bad boy, it’s my fault for not behaving well. 

Azel: Please stop. I promise I won’t run away again. 

Azel: Please, I beg of you, please, please, I beg… 

I clung pathetically to the High Priest’s robes, desperately repeating my pleas.

While people revere me as a god, the reality was far from that. 

High Priest: Your Holiness… I sincerely apologise. I have no desire to cause you harm. 

The High Priest stroked my head with pity, smiling tenderly. 

In the middle of that nightmarish scene, he was the only source of kindness. 

High Priest: This, too, is love.

Azel: … Love?

High Priest: You are an extraordinary being, Your Holiness. If anything were to happen to you, it would be too late.

High Priest: To ensure that no mishaps occur to your sacred body, I must mete out severe disciplinary actions as such. 

High Priest: This is all for your sake. Please understand. 

The whip was swung once more.

My brothers, hung from the ceiling, gradually lost the light in their eyes and were reduced to nothing but mere empty shells. 

If this is what people call “love”— then I despise this monstrosity with every fiber of my being. 

Azel: … I… understand…

Azel: I understand, so… stop it already.

Azel: I’ll listen to everything you say.

Azel: I’ll work hard, I’ll become a proper god.

Azel: … Please… 

…

<< Fast Forward Many Years Later >>

Matias: Have you two heard about the romance novel that's become popular in Rhodolite lately?

The princes of three countries held regular meetings in different locations, and they would occasionally stray into idle chatter. 

The topics varied, but today, of all things we could possibly talk about, it had to be the one topic I didn't want to hear about the most. 

Kagari: Don't know.

Azel: I have no interest in such items. 

Matias: I can lend you my copy of the book. 

Azel: Please only offer it to Kagari. 

Kagari: No way. Matias is impossible to handle when it comes to these topics. 

Azel: Unfortunately, I am deathly allergic to anything related to romance. 

Matias: Is there such a thing?

Azel: Yes, and therefore—

Matias: Then I’ll read it aloud for you. 

(... This hell just became even hotter. Someone spare me.) 

Matias didn't look like he was about to back down any time soon and placed the book on the table.

The book’s design was boring and unremarkable. 

Matias: This book is so detailed in depicting the process of love developing, it’s known as a bible for beginners to romance.

Matias: I’ve read through it myself, and it’s truly a treasure trove of information.

Matias: Take the first date scene on page 32 for instance. According to this bible—...

Ignoring Matias’ rambling, I pulled the book toward me and haphazardly flipped through the pages. 

(Ugh… what is this nonsense?)

As expected of something that received such high praise from Matias, the contents of the book were revoltingly vivid portrayals of romance. 

Most of the story was filled with unnecessary trivial chattering between lovestruck men and women. 

Kagari: So you lied about being allergic.

Azel: It was not a lie. Please have a look at these goosebumps on my skin. 

Kagari: Looks like the real deal.

Azel: While Matias yearns for romance, I am the complete opposite.

Azel: Merely hearing the words “love” and “romance” gives me the chills. 

I recalled the day “love” was defined to me with a merciful smile. 

Even now, seeing that word made me sick to the stomach. The very thought fills me with so much disgust, I felt dizzy. 

(Apart from that hag, there were plenty of other people who preached about love with equally ridiculous reasoning.) 

(I can never understand how Matias can so purely believe in love…)

Matias: You’re weird. Is there really anyone who hates being loved?

Azel: Perhaps it is because I am a god and different from ordinary mortals. 

Azel: … At the very least, I neither want to love nor be loved.

Azel: I’ve learned firsthand that love is nothing but misery.

I shut the book and shoved it back at Matias.

I knew without a doubt that I never wanted to open a book of that genre ever again.

Matias: No need to return it. This book is my gift to you.

Azel: No, thank you. I refuse.

Matias: Don’t say that. While you may despise love and romance now, your thinking could change someday.

Matias: You could meet your ideal queen in the middle of a scorching desert where she’s on the verge of collapsing, and after you nurse her back to health— 

Azel: Matias, back to reality, please. 

Matias: Ahem. Anyway, it won't hurt to have the beginner’s bible with you. 

Matias: It covers everything from how to invite someone on a date to spending the night together. Study it well. 

I glared at the book Matias pushed back at me.

(Arguing any further is too much of a hassle.)

(Whatever. I’ll simply not open it ever.) 

(Or maybe… I could sell it to Akatsuki instead.)

(I’ve had more than enough of being loved.)

…

(... Hm?)

I suddenly regained consciousness and found myself in an unfamiliar setting.

(Is this a rose garden? It looks rather neglected, though.)

The feeling of entering “another person’s dream” was one I had experienced countless times before.

While I didn't remember every instance clearly, I was certain I had never experienced entering the dreams of someone who owned a rose garden. 

(This isn’t a dream someone who lives in the desert would have.) 

At the junction where several paths intersected, was an oak table with a single book on it. 

I casually picked it up and read through the contents, the owner of the dream’s life story started flowing through my mind.

The story was incomplete, but the owner’s “wish” was clear.

Azel: I see, I see…

Azel: How utterly laughable. 

(A strong yearning for love… they belong to the same category of people as Matias.) 

Someone approached me.

I shifted my gaze to the side and saw an unfamiliar woman standing there. 

???: What’s… laughable?

Azel: I have some unfortunate news for you, who yearns for love and thirsts for knowledge of what it is.

Azel: Love is not the grand blessing it is often proclaimed to be. 

Azel: Sometimes, it would serve you well to remain ignorant and pure for your entire life. You would find far greater happiness that way.

(Not that I intend to force my beliefs onto others…) 

The woman looked like a personification of virtue, and someone who would fall prey to the first con artist she encountered.

It was because of that first impression that, for once, God chose to be merciful.

Azel: I have witnessed many examples of “love”. Not in fiction… but rather the raw, unvarnished love that exists in reality.

Azel: Far too often, people use “love” as a means to justify their otherwise unjustifiable actions.

Azel: It is truly tragic to see people driven mad by love.

Azel: Even the most rational people become unable to live without it.

Azel: Like a curse. 

(There's a chance that this woman, who knows nothing about love now, will become a changed person once she experiences it.) 

(... I can only hope that doesn't happen to her.)

May that ugly curse called “love” never turn her into a beast—

This powerless god could do nothing else but pray for her, just like I did on that one fateful day. 

[anonabelle]

Audacity incarnate.

[kyouka-supremacy]

(╥﹏╥)

[acourtofquestions]

“She had no magic to wield, save for the keen eyes of the goddess at her shoulder and an uncanny ability to remain unnoticed, to play into expectations.”

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I just looked at the price on the back of a book I’ve had for a bit over a decade and it was four. fucking. dollars. Just four with no taxes. No extra 97cents or something before taxes. Just a round number that you would add taxes to.

I googled the price of a new edition and it was almost thirteen! Not an even thirteen, it was like 12.96 or something. Close enough that it’s basically thirteen but if you’re adding multiple items together to try and get the price on a purchase with more items it would add more confusion.

[seedsofwinter]

Tonight I had the unique experience of Knowing The Answer. Immediately and without question, I knew the answer. And THEN SOME. I didn't need to think about everything; I just knew these unassailable facts. To help a friend's throwaway reference comment make sense when they were floundering to remember a name and a book.

The info poured out of me, as though I were the Google search bar. It was like when my father would call me to ask how to spell something (because he'd so badly botched the spelling that even Word had no clue what he meant), just no-thoughts only-info.

I MISS having those moments. And it was nice to feel it for something that was an old hyperfixation long before I knew the term.

[myteastainedpages]

hello tumblr people who read books originally written in languages other than english, i have a request

i have to write a book review for my reading in translation module at the end of november and i’m trying to find a book to use for it. i’ve not (to my knowledge) read any books that have been translated to english from another language - besides one i also read in its original spanish but i don’t wanna use that for this - so i have literally no ideas.

basically i’m looking for book recs, it’s a translation to english i’ll need to use but if you don’t know whether it’s been translated that’s fine i can easily find out myself :) thank you to anyone who helps! <3

[jacksintention]

I'm thinking again on the fact that so often comments, criticism and readings on Jack dwell a lot on how he is barely human/a person/doesn't have a personality at the point of the story and, while I somewhat understand these points, I find them so lacking. I find them... ableist? I'm always doubtful to use the word here because I'm not sure if it's applied in this kind (mental health) of context, but something like that. And I find them extremely simplistic.

However, honestly, a big part of the reason for these readings being so popular is that the manga itself words it that way. But that's one of the problems I find in the manga. When I say P.andora Hear.ts is very good but unfortunately it is very manga-like at times, besides the 2000s homojokes and the like, I'm usually thinking about things like this. I feel like often characters and situations that are (potentially) very intricate instead of getting insightful deep overviews often get screwed by the writing itself, which falls into very manga tropes a lot in a bad way (not that every manga has to fall into them, or that every manga trope has to be bad or written badly).

I don't know... For instance, I'd argue R.askolnikov's capacity for love in Cr.ime and Punishmen.t is debatable, but it's never treated as if it made him less of a person, a human being or made him not have a personality. I'd say not even Svidrigailo.v, who is as much a Bad Guy™ as a character can be, gets that treatment by the writing. I'd say that even him or Mikol.ka are written as fully fleshed human beings with their intricate internal lives and feelings. Svidrig.ailov's last scene with D.unya is fascinating for both characters and spins the whole dynamic and makes you question the entire narrative and veracity of not only those two characters, but brings to mind several other conversations among different characters and throws light (and doubt!) on the main plot between R.askolnikov and Porf.iry.

In similar situations, Jack's humanity, personhood and personality are debated, doubted and even full on accepted as vanished. No one reads Crim.e and Punishmen.t and comes to the same conclusions about Raskolni.kov, Svidrig.ailov, Sony.a or Razu.mikhin. The writing doesn't allow it. The writing doesn't allow you to forget that humanity is diverse and multifaceted, that it can be sad and cruel and loving and monstrous, even all at the same time, or that a person may struggle with feeling at all; and one is still a person.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Ok so im probably gonna do it anyway but I dont make my own polls often and im curious so

[drfrankendyke]

My summer reading list, in order.

[depresseddepot]

It's been so long since I've read anything kingkiller chronicles related but the narrow road between desires was so unexpectedly emotional and sweet

[cinnabeat]

augh english version of tcf novel is going to release soon...............i know theyre gonna call him alver.......must prepare myself for the psychic damage

[nezushi]

read a whole book in one day. i feel alive again

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 6 quotes:

SPOILERS for the chapter… (is it rude to say Duh cause I mean it with humor but like… duh)😂 … anywho absolute favs will get a seperate post but longer I think works like this🤷‍♀️

Chaol pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"The cold builds character."

She huffed a laugh, the steam of her breath torn away by the wind. "Spoken like a man from the North."

Chaol slid his arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. "Am I not keeping you warm enough these days, wife?"

Yrene blushed, and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Cad."

Over a month later, and he was still marveling at the word: wife. At the woman by his side, who had healed his fractured and weary soul.

Inside, it still bore the note Aelin Galathynius had left her years ago, when his wife worked as a barmaid in a backwater port, and the queen lived as an assassin under another name.

Yrene smiled, and lifted her hands to cup his face. Her clear eyes scanned his. "I love you," she said softly.

Chaol lowered his brow until it rested against hers. "Tell me that when we're knee-deep in freezing mud, will you?"

She snorted, but made no move to pull away. Neither did he.

So brow to brow and soul to soul, they stood there amid the bitter wind and lashing waves, and waited to see what the ruks might discover.

Sensing her attention, the Heir to the khaganate signaled, All is well?

Nesryn blushed despite the cold, but signaled back, her numbed fingers clumsy over the symbols. All clear.

A blushing schoolgirl. That's what she became around the prince, no matter the fact that they'd been sharing a bed these weeks, or what he'd promised for their future.

To rule beside him. As the future empress of the khaganate.

It was absurd, of course. The idea of her dressed like his mother, in those sweeping, beautiful robes and grand headdresses ... No, she was better suited to the rukhin leathers, to the weight of steel, not jewels. She'd said as much to Sartaq. Many times.

That Maeve was not a Fae Queen at all, but a Valg imposter. An ancient Valg queen, who had infiltrated Doranelle at the dawn of time, ripping into the two sister-queens' minds and convincing them that they had an elder sister.

"People will die, Yrene. In horrible, painful ways, they will die, and even you and I will not be able to save them.

The Healer on High patted the railing. "You will, Yrene. Soon enough, you will."

Hafiza ascended the stairs with that, leaving Yrene in the hold amid the stacks of crates.

She didn't tell the Healer on High that she wasn't entirely sure how much longer she'd be a help—not yet. Hadn't whispered a word of that doubt to anyone, even Chaol.

Yrene's hand drifted across her abdomen and lingered.