#Oxford Book Store

[jallyysstuff]

Connaught Place - the Commercial Hub of Delhi

Your thoughts and feedback mean the world to me, so don't hesitate to drop a comment or share your favorite parts. Let's spark some engaging conversations! 🗣️💬 Feeling generous? Give it a like, share, or tag a friend who might enjoy it too! 🌐👥

Hello travelers, welcome back to my blog! Today is January 2nd, 2024, and I would like to wish you all a Happy New Year! This blog is for those who love to travel and want to discover hidden gems. As a Delhiite, I know that CP is an emotion for all the locals. So, without any further delay, let’s dive into the adventure of exploring CP and its many attractions. A picture from Metro On 29th Dec,…

[magicaloxford]

I enjoyed a hot chocolate and croissant at Blackwell’s bookshop, where you can find plenty of books by Oxford’s J.R.R. Tolkien ☕!

Tolkien had a strong connection with Blackwell’s. Not only did he often shop there, but his first published poem, 'Goblin Feet', was printed by the bookshop’s owner, Sir Basil Blackwell, and he wrote The Lord of the Rings while living in a house built by Sir Basil 📚.

my latest spooky blog post･ﾟ✧

[gold-finch]

romanticising old university cities seems so silly to me. you're not that special for studying in an old building

[orlaite]

Vibrating rn because I'm just so happy at having been able to put my life sort of back together again the last few weeks which means I'm on track to do my bachelors next year and !! I'm so excited to write it!! I was so nervous about having too concrete a thesis-statement already and being too "set" before I even knew if they were gonna let me write whatever I wanted, but my Fav Prof asked about my ideas and after I'd unloaded my entire abstract and bibliography on him and shared my concerns about it being too concrete already he was like "You're fine queen, you're basically at liberty to do whatever you want and alot of students need help finding ANYTHING to write about but you're already all set. Also you're smart and talented as hell" paraphrasing there but that was the gist of it

[onlinesweetheart]

<3

[to-be-loved-by-death]

I think maybe the most incredible thing in the world is when you visit a friend or a loved one and they give you a tour of their town and you get to watch them fall back in love with the place all over again through you

[l-in-the-creative-world]

February Oxford Trip 📚🍟🍧🍚

[migosis]

after a long, hard day at work (erik killmonger x OC)

summary: exactly the title. Nyla treats her man after a long hard day at work.

warnings: D/s, smut, c*ck worship, alladat nasty sh!t, its k!nktober!!!!

When he arrived home, she was to be kneeling at the door upon his arrival.

She figured today must've been very busy for Erik since she didn't hear from him at all since the morning. He hadn't even replied to the lovely photos she'd sent fresh out of the bath. She'd oiled herself up and admired herself in the mirror. She looked so good it that it would be selfish not to share it.

After dressing, she kneeled at the elevator entrance awaiting Erik's arrival, a ritual she performed daily. She was in lounge clothes since she stayed at home today and did some light cleaning. She wore a soft v neck t-shirt that hugged her torso with loose-fitting pajama shorts that tied at her waist. Her back was straight, and she allowed her hands to rest palm up on her knees.

She was thankful to hear Erik's voice on the other side of the door within minutes. She tensed a little, already sensing his frustration from the tone of his voice. He breezed in, acknowledging her with his eyes only. He sat his briefcase down haphazardly and paced the room as he spoke firmly.

"T, I get it, but we're not folding. The terms of the contract stay the same. They will sign it if they know what's best for them."

"We wait it out until midnight. They really don't have a choice unless they want to be indebted to colonial forces forever. Trust me on this. They think they're going to force our hand, and that's not the precedent I'm trying to set."

Now Erik paused in front of her as he listened to the voice on the phone. She proceeded to carefully untie the laces on the oxford dress shoes before he stepped out of them. He sighed harshly and hung up the phone. He ran his hand over his face, and his shoulders dropped a little, decompressing from the day.

He used the back of his hand to stoke her cheek. His knuckle tilted her chin upwards as he leaned over to kiss her intently. Relief flooded through her body when he touched her.

"I'm sorry about that princess." He held her elbow as he straightened his back, pulling her to her feet.

"That's okay. I hope everything works out. Are you really sure they'll sign?"

She helped remove his suit jacket and hung it up in the closet. He nodded.

"You're trusting your gut. That's all that matters." He smiled at her, happy that he had her to come home to.

"How was your day?"

"It was fine, a bit restless. I mostly just organized and cleaned a little. I got some of the holiday decorations out, but there's a couple of boxes I can't get to, so I'll need your help."

"Baby, it's only October."

"Yes, but I need to take inventory of what I have so I know what else I need to buy. They're already putting the Chistmas decorations on the shelves."

"Alright, Alright. Have you talked to Pandora lately?"

"We talked a little last week."

"You should link up with her soon."

"Okay. She's pretty busy with the baby, but I'm sure she probably could use some support." She hadn't seen her best friend since her baby was born 8 weeks ago since they we're hours away from one another.

"How about when I get down those decorations, I pull out your art supplies?"

She didn't want to be disrespectful by rolling her eyes, so she just looked away with her arms crossing her chest. Anything that required much of a creative drive hadn't been on her radar lately.

"I just don't want you in this big ass penthouse lonely and bored."

"I'm not lonely or bored." She defended.

"But you're isolated, and I don't like that for you."

"I get out... I go to.. the store. And on walks." She tried to sound convincing but failed miserably. "I've been filming more book reviews for YouTube."

"You have and that's great. But that same community you're building online is just as important in real life."

She raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, I get it. I'll reach out to Dora."

"Did you see my pictures?" She said with an upbeat lilt in her voice.

"I did. They were real nice baby, made my day." He pulled her close to him, arms resting on around the small of your back. Her eyes sparkled at his praise.

"I can make it some more, that is, if you have time for me, Sir? It seems like you had a rough day."

"I have a few loose ends to tie up, then I'm all yours. Wait for me in the office?"

She kneeled at Erik's desk, but when he walked in, he relieved her, insisting she sit in the armchair near the corner of the room. That meant he'd probably be longer than she wished for. She cozied up with a blanket and a book while Erik typed and took a phone call. After reading two chapters, she glanced at him over the book. He was concentrated on whatever he was doing as he looked between two monitors. She strolled over, settling behind him. Briefly, she looked at the monitors, but the spreadsheets that overflowed with data made her head hurt. Knots of tension in his shoulders began to unravel while her hands worked. Once her fingertips kneaded his temples, he sighed in relief and relaxed in his chair.

"Thank you, princess. I'm almost finished. Please be patient."

Since he said please, she didn't allow her disappointment to show.

"Kneel next to me. Legs open, head down." He kissed her on the forehead before turning back to his screens. The command ushered in wetness between her legs. Her heart beat quickened with so much anticipation that she had to focus on her breath to stay calm. About ten minutes later, she saw Erik's footsteps move around her. The room was still before he returned again. She heard the book she was reading earlier plop closed, then clinking over near the bar cart.

"Look at me." He sat relaxed in the armchair she occupied earlier. He leaned back slightly, chin up, shoulders back, and arms propped up on both sides of the chair. His button-up was untucked, the first few buttons undone, and the tie he'd worn earlier was no longer confining his neck. He beckoned her to come to him with one hand motion.

She crawled over to where he sat, maintaining eye contact with him. He admired her as she kneeled before him. She smelled the bold amber liquor in the tumbler Erik sipped on.

"Would you like a taste?"

"Yes, sir." He held the glass to her lips for her. When he pulled the glass away a few dribbles flowed down her lips. Erik caught them with his tongue before they could even reach her chin. His lips enveloped hers, demanding entrance. She allowed his tongue to survey her mouth, their tongues wrestling like this until they were out of breath. Erik's hands groped her breast, which made her nipples press firmly against the fabric of her shirt. When his lips left hers, she let out a small breathy moan.

"Take this off." When her top half was exposed, she grasped her breasts roughly as she bit her lips, demonstrating how needy she was.

"That's my job, hands at your knees."

She whined but the sounds soon turned into pleasurable hums as his lips sucked her nipples. He nipped at her flesh with his teeth, it causing her stir underneath him. From the table beside him, he picked up a ball gag and brought it to her pink lips, already plump from their kissing. When she did not open her mouth him he looked at her curiously.

"What is it?"

"I don't wanna wear that. I just want to taste you." She placed her hand on his knee, brushing against the fabric as she moved up his thigh.

"But you were so good just now, waiting on me. Can I say thank you first?"

"You've just been on my mind all day." Her doe eyes made it hard for him to refuse, but the truth is that he'd been craving to see the face she made when she came.

"It'll be quick then. That means you're already wet for me. Plus, I want that mouth nice and messy. Now, move your hand until I give you permission."

She retracted her hand placing it back on her knee. This time when he brought the gag to her mouth she opened it. When Erik peered at her he saw gratitude in her eyes.

She looked beautiful. He reached inside her shorts, easily accessing her, as she was free of underwear. His fingers pressed into her folds. She mewled and melted into him. Her essence glistened on his fingers when he pulled them out to examine them.

"Look at that princess, I was right. You want me to keep going?"

"Uhm huh." She slurred behind the gag.

"Say please."

"Puhles." She struggled.

There he was at her entrance again, slipping in two fingers this time. Her eyes fluttered, then closed completely as she focused on the sensation. She pushed downwards, encouraging him to go deeper. His fingers curled inside of her, pushing against her pillowy folds. Her moans rang in his ears despite the ball gag. A pool of saliva that collected began to ooze from her mouth onto her chin and dripped on her chest. The messier her chest got, the more her pussy seemed to follow. Erik had easily slipped another finger inside of her and she'd been so close to cuming that Erik needed to support her weight. He could feel her clenching around him periodically.

"Be a good girl and cum for me." The hand that wasn't inside of her rubbed against her clit. Her warm juices splashed as kept his pace, even as her insides contracted against him. Indistinguishable sounds broke free from her throat as her body seized. He watched in satisfaction as the meat on her pudgy thighs and backside shook. Her empty, unfocused gaze stared beyond him, drunk with pleasure.

Erik removed the gag from her lips replaced it with his fingers. She sucked them slowly and hummed in delight.

"I love seeing you on your knees. It makes me want to fuck you."

It was times like this when the words he said sent shivers down her spine that made her wait worth it. She loved that he wanted her, she loved being a slut for him. Erik stood from his seated position, allowing her to see that he was fully bricked up inside his pants. Her mouth watered in excitement. She looked up to him eagerly, anticipating his movements.

"Fuck my throat," She pleaded, "Please, Sir." She had almost forgotten her manners in her desperation. She rose on her knees so that she was eye level with his dick. She watched as he took his time unbuttoning his shirt. The more of his skin that he revealed, the more she craved contact. His frame was thick, and sturdy. It became hard for her to sit still and she no longer knew what to do with her hands, so she went back to squeezing her nipples that were slick with drool. It was when he removed his undershirt and began to unbuckle his belt when she interrupted.

"May I?"

He dropped his hands at his sides and moved closer towards her obliging her. Her fingers couldn't move fast enough to unbuckle his pants, and move his boxers out of the way. Her mouth was on him immediately, the pants and boxers still hung around his hips. She swallowed his length entirely. He let his head hang back as he growled under his breath. When he looked back down at her, he struggled to keep his composure at the sight. Her pretty chestnut eyes blinked up at him through full, curly lashes. She engulfed him again, and remained here until her throat strained. When he left her throat she gasped and moaned out.

"Take your time, baby. I'm not going nowhere." She nodded, only slightly embarrassed at her neediness.

"I love this big dick." She took him in her hands and slapped him against her tongue a few times. "You making me so wet."

She lifted him up and slowly glided her tongue under his shaft up and down, feeling each and every vein there. She left soft, wet kisses on his balls before licking them lightly, suctioning them with her lips. Her tongue rhythmically massaged the flesh. His groans only fueled her to take more of him into her mouth, as much as she could fit. She focused her lips again at the tip of his dick, while one hand massaged his balls. She tightened her lips around the head of his dick and watched him. His eyes were low but focused. His abdomen tensed beginning to thrust further into her as her teasing would only suffice for so long. She allowed him to set the pace, and when he began to hit the back of her throat, she nearly orgasmed to the lewd noises that came from her mouth. It was like there was a secret g-spot there that made her insides do summersaults when Erik poked it. He gently guided her movements with his hand on the back of her head. He felt amazing gliding down her throat, but she could take more. She dropped lower under him, sitting on her ankles, and placed her hands on the outside of his thigh, encouraging his movements so that he could literally drop the dick down her throat.

He groaned as he slid down her throat. "You are my lovely little cocksleeve. How's that feel angel?" She moaned and blinked back tears.

"Move your hands so I can give you what you asked for." She relaxed her muscles as best as she could and concentrated on breathing in through her nose when Erik would slide out. She loved the sensation of her heavy tits bouncing each time he'd hit the back of her throat. Saliva rolled down her chin and collected at he base of his dick. When he slid out of her, her only purpose was to clean him off.

Nyla was perched in front of him, watching his muscles move as he removed his clothes completely. He stepped backwards and sat down. When she tried to come closer to him, Erik shook his head. "Stay." His eyes were dark and stern.

She pouted in protest. He leaned back and stroked himself as he took in her body. The evening sunlight that filtered through the curtains hit her perfectly, amplifying the warm red undertone of her skin. Swollen lips, wet eyelashes, and a complete mess all over her breasts. Hesitantly, she moved her hand down her body into her shorts. She looked him in his eyes and raised her eyebrow as if to ask, 'Is this okay, is this what you want?' Her clit was moist and puffy. She circled her clit and cried out with need. When he did not stop her from touching herself, she took the lenience and ran with it. She leaned back, removed the shorts and it was a matter of seconds before her pussy welcomed her fingers inside. She did not take her eyes off of him or his dick. His chest moved up and down as he breathed and his forehead was now covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looked so strong and godly gazing down at her while his muscles worked to pleasure himself. She took note of his movements so that when she took over, she could recreate them herself.

"Can I please cum? Can I cum with your dick in my mouth Sir?" He made her plea a few more times before he called her over with a hand signal and a nod. She crawled the short distance to him. She kissed his feet, his calves, and all the way up his thighs. Before she could begin, Erik grabbed her by the neck and kissed her sloppily. She used the wetness between her legs to make his dick shine before taking him in her mouth. Once she found her rhythm she played in her pussy until she came again. Her eyes rolled and fluttered with him still inside of her. She felt Erik's dick twitch in her mouth at the sight. She brought her face close to his and encased his dick between her breast, moving up and down slowly.

"Don't cum yet, cause then I'll have to stop. And I still haven't decided where I want your delicious cum? What do you think?" She licked her lips. Her movements, paired with her provoking words, were hypnotizing.

"Its your world baby." Is all he managed. She smiled internally, feeling empowered. His orgasms was hers. All hers.

"Good, I just want you to relax honey." Erik smiled at her endearment, her care meant the world to him. "I love you," she said lowly.

"I love you." Moments between them like this made the world feel like it was at a standstill, like only he and her existed and nothing else mattered. She took him in her hand and rubbed him against her face, scattering warm wet French kisses all over his groin and dick. She massaged him, only using her hands for a while, returning to his balls and further down to his taint, pressing gently.

"Fuck, baby." His breathing hitched and his toes curled so she took it easy in that area. While one hand stoked him, the other gently made its way up his torso. You brushed your lips and tongue against his torso, the sensation of her breath made goosebumps spread across his body.

"You are so handsome, you know that? I don't know how I got so lucky." Erik's head rested against the chair with his legs outstretched. His eyes were closed, only opening occasionally. She used both hands, twisting and stoking, letting her mouth drip onto him to keep it moist. She applied slight pressure to the tip, and when she noted Erik's hips tilting up towards her, she slowed her motions again.

"I could do this for hours. You taste so good."

She circled his dick around her lips basking in how nice and hard he was. When he briefly opened his eyes and saw the pleasant smile on her face, he began to moan, knowing she truly enjoyed this did something to him. Her intimacy and devotion made him feel seen.

He slid into her mouth with ease. She allowed herself a moment to rest there, paying him true tribute. She hummed and slowly began bobbing her head up and down, then added her hands to the combination.

"Mmmm, just like that." He groaned. "I think I want my cum down your pretty throat, would you like that?"

She moaned in response.

"Hands behind your back." He grabbed the curly bun and guided her head down his shaft, his hips thrusting up slowly. Her mouth opened wider and wider, and her tongue moved out to accommodate him. She held her head there until she began to struggle for air. He repeated the same again, leaving her gasping for air. As he held his position in her throat, he pinched her nose for a few seconds. Her throat spasmed around him before he released her and pulled away. Warm strings of saliva hung from her lips. The whites of her eyes turned began to turn crimson.

"Please, give it to me." He soothed her, wiping a tear that began to form at the corner of her eye. Her begging made his dick ache in bliss, a culmination of how he'd felt the past thirth minutes bathing in her mouth. He was back inside of her mouth, fucking her throat rapidly. She held her head still for him like a good girl would awaiting his cum. On her tongue, she felt his dick begin to throb. She could feel warm spurts ooze from him, marking her throat, and she swallowed each one as they came. His moans of satisfaction made her more fulfilled than she could ever describe. He squeezed the tip so that any remaining landed on her tongue. She licked her lips and placed subtle kisses on his dick that laid in his lap.

Her eyes ran over his body. He laid back, limbs limp in exhaustion. Once he gathered himself, he looked at her in pure amazement and appreciation. He could tell she wanted to be close to him, occupy his space.

"Come."

She straddled him, laying her head on his shoulder. He palmed her thighs, giving them a nice jiggle before lightly rubbing her back.

"Are you good princess?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you for letting me please you."

"Thank you, princess. Where'd you learn to be so attentive?"

"What do you mean?"

"You anticipate my needs. And that... that wasn't no regular head."

"Well, you anticipate mine too. You deserve honor. Just because you're my Dom doesn't mean I can't reciprocate. I belong to and submit you, without you asking."

"Damn, say that last part again?" He bit his lip before meeting your eyes and joining you in laughter.

"I belong to you, Sir." He traced her features with his eyes before gracefully placing pecks all over her face.

--

Several hours later, chimes from Erik's computer caused him to stir in his sleep. They'd fallen asleep in his office. He was disoriented until the glow of the screen caught his attention. He shifted under Nyla's weight causing her to grip him tighter and persuading him back to his sleep. It was 12:05am and chimes became continuous beckoning him to the computer. He sat her down where she curled into ball and sulked over to the screen. Several new emails sat in his inbox. The first was the official signed contract agreement. The next was a link to an article from T'Challa headlining to new deal.

Wakandan officials agree to allow U.S. based descendants of slavery asylum after rampant white supremest attacks.

"Damn these muthafuckas are fast. I knew those terms were fucking irresistible."

He picked Nyla up to carry to to their bedroom. She groaned at him disrupting her sleep, but he ignored it. "Baby, guess what? They signed the contract."

"Okay baby. Just have them call me tomorrow, I'm sleep."

Erik laughed off her nonsense and covered her body before sinking into the bed himself. He closed his eyes, noticing how light and refreshed he felt. Although he felt a sense of relief about this deal he groaned internally when he began to think about work. He recalled Nyla's words from earlier about honor. He knew that he needed to honor his body and mind because the exhaustion that encompassed him at the moment was not for the weak. He felt a sense of calm wash over him as he made the decision to take some time off of work, perhaps go on a vacation for the holidays.

-

taglist: @hearteyes-for-killmonger @loveeeeandaffection @iamrheaspeaks @adasosweet @goddessofthundathighs @thiccdaddy-mbaku@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @eye-raq @madamslayyy @sweeter-thejuice @wawakanda-btch @theunsweetenedtruth @wokeblock @smutty-smut-smuty @wakandamaybe @stainontheground @killmongerkink @soufcakmistress @mysticbear21 @nickidub718 @blackpinup22 @killmonger-fics @goddessofthundathighs

[quixtrix]

let's talk BL manga lore; on grooming, identity, and racism

spoilers for the official captain laserhawk bl manga ofc, plus brief discussion of grooming I've refrained from speaking about it because of spoilers, but it's been well over a month and I believe that it's time to openly discuss it. if you would still like to read the manga before reading this discussion, here's the link to buy a physical copy and you can search up 'Captain Laserhawk: Crushing Love' in your digital book store for it. okay time to talk about two, basically three subjects; racism, identity, and grooming. i'm starting with the grooming first, because that's the main focus of this manga. i would have to preface this by saying i've already discussed this topic in an earlier post (albeit it is a prediction, but it is a spot on prediction.) i'll briefly elaborate on it right now with what we know.

dolph's very first day with alex was carefully calculated to where dolph would be exposed to the world, but heavily rely on alex. he is shown around to alex's friends and is able to buy his own clothes, but it is under the heavy scrutiny of alex. alex ultimately decides what dolph wears, alex decides how the day goes, alex leads dolph. even when they have a beach day, take note of how alex holds dolph, dragging him around.

even the romance and the events leading up to when alex takes dolph's virginity are calculated. note how alex grasps dolph's hand, grabbing on tight enough to almost press down on his knuckles, loosening his hand, making dolph relinquish control. the context for the fight page is that after their sweet lil beach day, alex takes dolph down an alley where alex knows that he'll come across people who aren't the fondest of him. this event was calculated, alex knew it was going to happen, and he used it to test out his new lil boytoy.

also, alex taking dolph out to fight isn't just so he can get in the pants of a barely 18 year old. while holloway notes during this flashback that adrenaline is the greatest aphrodisiac, this is a test to see how good the new weapon he picked up is. how the new boy works, to see how eden's boy robot can benefit his group, not just him. its literally in the morning panels we get where alex talks with that woman, anna. they're talking about how loaded he is with tech, and while alex does consider that, he still actively thirsts over dolph.

also im jus saying if i personally was talking with one of my greatest confidants and they refer to someone i'm thirsting over as KID, i would personally be icked out. i would have a conscious and not do some weird shit, like literally refer to dolph in passing as kid in the next page. dolph aint even the first one who alex has done this shit to, as evident by this line by one of his friends, grace.

alex is a groomer and groomed dolph, case closed.

anyways! time to get on with what i really wanted to talk about, how racism and loss of idenity ties into dolph's character!

in this manga, during pillow talk between dolph and alex, we get dolph's backstory. dolph literally has only known this man for a day and he's giving him lore because alex treats him more normal than eden did. god. ANYWAYS ENOUGH DWELLING ON DOLPH BEING A VICTIM IN ALL WAYS INCLUDING BEING ONE OF THE OXFORD STUDY, we get to know about his brief life before eden took him in.

now let me turn for a moment to the show, and how we were told about dolph's backstory. this is VASTLY different than what we got in the show, with it being implied that dolph's parents were a white prostitute and a darkskinned immigrant man. this adds onto the idea that this supposedly impoverished, crack addicted boy came into this world not as an act of love, but as a mistake. not just a mistake though, his parents are supposedly the epitome of immoral, a prostitute and a criminal. not to mention that this also ties into the idea of the uncultured brown man and pure white woman, basically a racist idea that the scary immigrants who aren't like us good white christian americans (and honestly jus any homogenous group in general, though in america its ofc more applicable to white people), are corrupting our mother marys, our women. eden takes on this perspective in order to subconsciously frame in the minds of post american viewers the idea of this man as an other that they are helping and didn't at all snatch up from his mother for child experimentation. the concept of other is something that finds it's origins in fascism, and in order to mask the presence of said fascism, someone who is seen as apart of the other is given a seat at the table with the collective us, (as in the majority, or the ones that are supposedly superior), and will ultimately serve as an example of why the other are labelled as such. i go into this more with my rayman analysis. I brought up the specific portrayal of dolph's backstory from eden's documentary to showcase how eden has manipulated the view people have of this man. eden has not only manipulated the view of the in universe audience, but eden has manipulated our view.

in the propaganda documentary, we are shown photos of this man being a captain, someone of relatively high rank in the military. you can't even normally earn that through having an education, you'd have to have years of experience. he's portrayed as older than he is.

another thing, dolph fans, let's be honest with ourselves; before the manga, it was not uncommon to headcanon that man as a FREAK. with both the supposed images of dolph at a nightclub and the flashback of alex and dolph meeting outside a club, it wasn't too hard to think that the hottest man alive in that show who was fully born human was a freak. a sexual deviant. someone that a christian mother would be horrified enough by that she faints. the manga however, shows us that dolph really isn't any of that. hell, he didn't even get to go to a club before he met alex. in reality, he's around 18 years and his only sexual experience is his groomer.

say that again with me, he's around 18. he's just around 18, he's a young adult, and the environment he's grown up in has stunted him by treating him as a subject, a thing, cutting him off from anything that would humanise this child by not allowing him to see his mother. hell, even his childhood best friend serves eden by being the one in his ear, having him at her beck and call all in the name of eden.

we get none of dolph's true backstory in the show for any number of reasons. maybe it's on purpose, maybe it's a result of having to possibly cut down episodes, who knows? what matters though is that this adds a layer to the core problem defining dolph's life; the perspective others have on him warping who he is.

back to the pages with dolph's memories of his mother, we see dolph as he was when he was just a boy. he's his mama's boy, her son, a child. even when eden takes him in, he stubbornly clings to that bit of him that's pure, untainted by the idea of him being an experiment, a tool. this bit of him, this hint towards who he is supposed to be as a person, is something he clings to desperately. it leads him to follow eden's orders again because they promise that they've found his mother.

and yknow what happened with who dolph was told was supposedly his mother?

she was just a random ass indian woman.

wasn't even the right woman. they just used his identity issues because he's indian, and she was indian and in a cult that eden needed to take care of.

this, while admittedly is kind of funny, (like the confusion is funny in the moment look at ts) is actually fucked up crazy racism. they literally said that this random ass woman who happened to be indian was his mother like HELL!?!??!?!?

this insane fr. lucy didn't even double check LIKE GIRL THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR FRIEND'S MOTHER WHO HE HASNT SEEN SINCE HE WAS LIKE 6 AND YOU DIDNT EVEN DOUBLE CHECK IF SHE'S THE RIGHT PERSON?!?!?!?

moving on from that, this actually brings up a deeper layer of dolph's identity issues; the lack of cultural identity.

i want to preface this by saying that i am not entirely sure if this is the right term for this identity issue nor am i claiming to be an expert on the type of identity crisis that i am about to discuss. that being said, this specific disconnect of cultural identity that dolph has is actually reminiscent of those adopted from other countries, or transnational adoptees. there seems to be a need within these adoptees to find out more about their own heritage or their own mothers and families that they now struggle to find. while dolph does not actively go out to reconnect with his heritage, he does exhibit desires to find his birth mother. this type of identity issue seems to ask the question of 'what could I have been if...?,' and it tends to mess with the idea of the self. adoptees that struggle with this question hold a desire to go back, to almost reclaim what would have been. yes, dolph is not adopted into a family, but he is still a child under the care of eden, which became like his family, which is why i believe that this kind of identity issue could reasonably be applied to dolph. it explains why he does what he does in the manga, and how it's ultimately wrapped up by him losing this desire and moving forward. albeit he moves forward by alex instead becoming his main purpose, but this serves as the first chain of the past that he leaves behind. with this, he severs a tie that would have made him continue to be stuck under eden's control, and possibly find himself. he answers the question of what could have been with 'it doesn't matter anymore.'

but actually, he doesn't answer that question. he leaves it be.

i am reading way too into this tho lol. i would say that he doesn't explicitly say it, and that we do see a lack of dolph's past being used against him in that way because dolph has freed himself from that part, but in reality, it's because eden can't pull the same trick twice. im aware that the manga focuses HARD on dolph's grooming, but i feel like they really could have properly wrapped up dolph's identity arc with his mother if it was acknowledged at the end, but i fear we are left unsatisfied. that's one of my gripes with the manga. it gives us things that tie up loose ends, but some of these ties have entirely missed the holes they were supposed to secure. but what is done is what's done, and here we are.

tl;dr, dolph was groomed by alex. dolph's identity has also been warped by eden heavily, by how they dehumanised him as a child to be a weapon internally, to how he's shown to the public to be a case that they've saved, and yet he still becomes something that is "disgraceful." textbook example of this poor boy that we have saved that is actually jus like all the others that we know. dolph also suffers under similar identity issues as adopted children do, and this specific issue of his is let go in order to allow him to begin moving on and finding himself.

as always, im open to discussion and critique! my askbox is open as well if you want me to yap abt smth else in the show :P

[uwmspeccoll]

Decorative Sunday

This Sunday we present a selection of original paste papers by New York paste-paper artist Claire Maziarczyk from Maziarcyck Paste Papers by English book-arts author and fine-press printer Claire Bolton, published in Oxford, England at Claire and David Bolton's Alembic Press in 1991. The book, printed in a limited edition of 175 copies by Claire Bolton and quarter bound in cloth with Maziarczyk's paste paper-covered boards (first image), includes nineteen samples of Claire Maziarczyk's paste papers, with descriptions of how they are made. The text also includes a history of paste papers and notes on the range of patterns used.

After varied experiences as an elementary school art teacher, a teaching technician at Cooper Union, and a bookbinder and administrator at the New York Center for Book Arts, Maziarczyk began making paste papers in 1982 to create decorative sheets for book covers. She soon began to make production paste papers to be sold to bookbinders and art supply stores. This led to a commission from Red Ozier Press to produce some custom designs for their book covers. In 1985, she began to use paints made by Golden Artist Colors that had a wider range of colors with more intense shades and a range of metallics that didn't oxidize. She kept adding more and more patterns to her repertoire and by the time this book was printed she had 48 papers of different patterns.

Our copy of this book is another donation from the estate of our late friend Dennis Bayuzick.

View more posts of paste papers.

View other books from the estate of Dennis Bayuzick.

View more Decorative Sunday posts.

[dramallamas]

Because you cannot pry British Juwon from my hands here are some Juwon headcanons based on his time in England and a bit about how it affects his life in Korea. Featuring Kwon Hyeok obviously.

Language Headcanons:

He is bilingual and is fully fluent in both English and Korean.

He learnt French in school but has forgotten most of it.

It actually got to a point where he would forget words in Korean and ask Hyeok what they were. So he would write down words he forgot and memorise them.

He still sometimes, tho very very rarely, forgets words. He has a note in his phone of them.

He spoke Korean with Hyeok but whenever either of them went out, they spoke English.

Hyeok was fluent but has not maintained the same level as Juwon since moving back to Korea.

Juwon mumbles in English to himself when thinking hard and believing he’s alone. However, people have caught him do this from time to time.

His English voice is a tiny bit deeper than his Korean one but not many people notice it (DS does tho 👀).

He speaks English pretty articulately, and has more of a southern accent.

He says scone like phone and not like gone.

Dongsik adores when Juwon speaks English and has actually picked up a couple words himself.

Unconsciously swears in English… including in rated E moments.

When he’s stressed/upset and gets the opportunity to just explode (obviously after he’s bottled it) he talks in a mush of both languages.

Other Headcanons:

Juwon went to a private school in England and Hyeok taught him extra at home.

He did not have a lot of friends but had one or two that he liked tolerated.

Definitely got picked on by other kids for being quiet or weird. That was until he full on punched a kid and got in deep shit for it, but nobody picked on him again so Juwon called it a win.

He though british/western food was mostly bland but there was a certain elegance and comfort in its simplicity.

Did not go out often, and flat out refused to go to clubs.

He did apply for UK universities and did a year or two before going to the Korean Police Uni.

Did get into a good uni, like Russell group uni (maybe Oxford?), and yet didn’t get accommodation and simply got his own place instead (his hate of sharing things and richness coming into play). He also learnt to cook there.

His father never visited but did send money to the two of them, though Hyeok also got a job out there.

He does not have the best spice tolerance due to western food being… not that spicy.

He has an English name, but doesn’t like to use it unless he has to. He much prefers Juwon.

Has been asked out by a variety of people but turned everyone down as politely as possible (unless they were pushy then he got annoyed and was very bitchy about it). He has never been interested in anyone.

Has read every single sherlock holmes book in English and still has copies in his Seoul apartment.

The only jobs he had in England were from mandatory work experience. 

Despite not really being social, he did get to know a book store worker when he went to purchase something out of the classics section.

Yes he read classics and older literature, you’re gonna tell me he didn’t? But his guilty pleasure was fantasy books. He definitely read mostly in English (more accessible) but did pick up the odd Korean book too.

His notes for cases in korea are a mash of Korean and English, mostly just writing in whatever language flows out first. There’s not a lot of time to get them down and nobody else is gonna see them so he doesn’t care about it.

Feel free to drop your own thoughts and opinions and reminder that these are MY HEADCANONS and may not fully align with yours :)

[nohoperadio]

A small number of classics publishing thoughts

I wish it were way more common to see long books published in multiple volumes. I'm fine with long books existing but a 900 page paperback is not good to hold in your hands. It's bad to hold. It's heavy for example. I don't wanna do that. If there were two of them but smaller it would be fine.

And I get why this doesn't happen in general, if you need to buy two books that's going to be more expensive, customers en masse wouldn't like it. But I'm puzzled about classics publishing specifically, because this is where choice, in theory, abounds. If I want a copy of War and Peace, I can cheap out on a £3.99 Wordsworth edition that probably uses a public domain translation and will definitely fall apart before I finish it, I can pay £9 more for the privilege of real paper and footnotes from Penguin/Oxford/Vintage/etc, I can pay £9 more than that for a tacky Penguin Clothbound edition because a straight person on instagram told me to, and above that there's varying degrees of actually nice expensive gift editions, I mean the Folio Society has proven that there's really no upper-bound to what people will pay for a book that looks really good.

What I can't seem to do, for any amount of money, is buy a paperback that is the size of my hands. I literally can't do it. All of the above are single volume and between 1000-1500 pages. The Everyman's Library War and Peace is in three volumes but hardback, and hardback is a significant disadvantage imo but that's probably genuinely the best option still. And that's a special exception anyway, Everyman's doesn't make a habit of doing this, their edition of Middlemarch for example is one 900-page volume, same with the other longboys I checked.

Surely there is room in this variegated competitive market for one edition that prioritizes comfort, for people who want to actually read the book and have a nice time doing so. It seems like there's not. Oh well.

---

I made fun of the Penguin Clothbound series above, and listen if you think they look cool and not like something conceived by a graphic design student who's just looked up what books are as research for their assignment then more power to you, but you still shouldn't buy them because they suck, like the quality is so bad! That coloured ink rubs off so easily it's insane. Part of my job involves picking books from the shop floor for online orders, and I hate seeing orders for the those ones because it's a very frequent occurrence that we'll have like six copies of the clothbound Frankenstein or whatever in-store and I still can't fulfill the order because none of them are remotely presentable, they've all got prominent scratches or faded parts, and this is before they've ever even been owned by anyone, this is just from existing in a shop and getting occasionally manhandled! It's so so sad. And the thing is a lot of books age gracefully, they look nice and well-loved as they get battered and worn, but these ones when the ink comes off just look like cheap pieces of shit! Please stop buying them, you do not want these books on your shelves trust me!

---

tbh the normal-ass Penguin Classic black paperbacks aren't always great quality either. My copy of Wuthering Heights looks like it's been passed down through three generations but I bought it new and I've only read it 1.5 times:

And like sure I let it get jostled around in my bag a lot but I do that with all my books and they don't all look like this. Definitely part of the issue is that it crinkles white which shows up really strongly against the black, but even allowing for that it's really bad. Penguin just kind of sucks with their classics publishing in general I think. It's weird because you'd think with no living author to pay royalties to there'd be more room for investing in an actual quality product--seems not! Most of my others in this series are kinda beat up too although admittedly this is the worst example.

(I don't even like Wuthering Heights it's kinda boring! The 0.5th read was my first attempt, I fell off it and then forced myself to try again later. I probably wouldn't still own it if it weren't sadly too ugly now to give away!)

---

Classics publishing! Just some thoughts.

[magicaloxford]

A startling witchy book in an old Oxford bookshop 🔮📚!

[mistydeyes]

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: You and Kyle are no longer two small kids running around in the flower garden, you've graduated and he's a Sergeant. Despite being each other's childhood love, you haven't spoken in years. What happens when life forces you back together again?

pairing: Gaz x childhood love! fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, alcoholism, mentions of grief/depression

a/n: this is it, we are at the end! thank you to all who have shown this series love and I hope you enjoy :)

🏷️ @the-faceless-bride @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @justmare @crunchlite @sofasoap

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

After Kyle's offer to spend the holiday, you stopped responding completely. Something about him saddened you. Whenever you picked up your phone to text, you were overcome by an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. When Kyle went back to university, you politely called his mother. "I know this sounds harsh but please tell Kyle not to visit me, it's too hard to see him right now," you spoke shakily. She tried to protest but you pleaded with her to follow your request. "Okay, Y/N, but please you have to see him sometime," and with that, she hung up the phone.

For the next five years, you would never see Kyle again. In the fall of 2015, you received word that he was graduating. Apparently, he had done so at the top of his class. His parents offered you the opportunity to come but you refused. Instead, you sent a bouquet of mountain laurel (ambition), purple cornflower (strength and health), coronilla (success crowns your wishes), and eucalyptus (protection). Weeks later, he texted saying he missed you and with a thank you for the bouquet. As you saw his smiling face with your bouquet in hand, you couldn't help but feel a piercing sense of sadness.

At the end of the school year, you left sixth form and were granted admission to the prestigious University of Oxford. No one thought you could do it but you were revived by the notification of your acceptance that November. You quietly went through the declaration of a major, deciding on Classics and English. Delilah's parents made sure you had the proper financials to attend and offered to manage the shop and home while you were 2 hours away in Oxford. By now, Lila was 20 and able to fully run the shop on her own. You fought with yourself over this decision before Delilah's parents sat you down and told you that you were going. You trusted them and they pushed you to leave, far away from your small town with shattered memories.

The next three years were uneventful, uni was divided into three terms and you would always return to your empty home during holiday. You took solace when you were at home and went about helping Lila with the store. Lila helped you when you needed her most. She kept you updated as you read your book assignments in your flat and collected the mail for you in your absence. As she promised, whenever you arrived home, there would be a pile of mail waiting for you. You would flip through the junk mail until you always found a postcard or letter addressed to you. Sometimes it was from the Garricks, wishing you well and hoping you would visit Manchester sometime. The other half of the time were letters from Kyle. When you were in sixth form, the letters were angry. He was hurt that you pushed him away and begged for you to talk to him. He asked why you stopped calling and told his mother to never visit. Once you transitioned to Uni, there were letters reminiscing over old memories and some updates on how he was doing. One time, you received a letter saying, "I did it, Y/N. I set a record," and you knew this was about his dream of joining the prestigious SAS. This letter sat on top of another card. Upon your graduation, he sent you a congratulations card with it. Inside it read,

"An old buddy of mine had a sibling graduate from Oxford and I saw your name in the program. Congratulations, flower girl! Just know that my family and your mum are so proud of you. Write me back when you get this!" 

As you read the card, a part of you wanted to reply. You even went too far as to rummage some old stationery from your mum's room. However, when you went to write something on the page, you couldn't bring yourself to. And so in a vicious cycle, you always told yourself you would write or text back but the letters kept piling up in a drawer. Eventually, 4 years passed and you were home again, a degree and the forgotten pile of letters waiting for you.

In all reality, your Classics and English degree just offered you a distraction. You know we're working full-time to expand your mother's business. Both you and Lila had expanded to primarily online orders and offered shipping overseas. Your mother would be proud to see what a businesswoman you were.

That May you were helping Lila prepare a large order for a baby shower. You threw around baby's breath and wisterias for everlasting love and a welcoming invitation. She fashioned a crown out of the stems and presented it to you. "For my queen of the flowers," she said and you let out a hearty laugh. Lila had become like your older sister these last few years as was the only one who made you laugh like this. "Why thank you, madame," you said and bowed in return. As you began to clean up, you noticed your phone had lit up with a new voicemail. You leaned over and saw it was from Kyle. You could feel your face grow pale at the icon.

"Um Lila, I'll be right back," you said before pushing the backdoor open. You felt the warm afternoon sun on your face as you stared at your phone. You wrestled with the idea of answering it. Based on his last few correspondences, he was pleading for an answer but respected your wishes to not see him until you were ready. You sighed as you clicked the voicemail box.

"You have 1 NEW MESSAGE. Hey, Y/N it's been a while," you could hear him start to say. He sounded older, no longer having the squeaky voice like before. You couldn't imagine what he looked like now. "I know you said to give you time but I just wanted to call, it's been like what? Five years now. Anyways, I don't know what you've been up to or if this is even still your number but I'm back indefinitely. I'll be working in London so just call if you want to meet up. I could even come out to the country for some lemonade. I miss you and," you listened attentively to the last three words. "I love you."

You were a coward. Despite his message, you never responded. Just like the letters, seeing Kyle was too difficult. It was an insurmountable feat. You thought too much time had passed since you last spoke and he was a completely different person now. You drank yourself to sleep as you tried to force all memory of him out of your mind. Kyle deserved the best, better than you and your sad life could ever offer him. He left you another voicemail that you never listened to.

In October, you invited Lila over for some wine and butternut squash soup. You both formed a routine of weekly dinners and drinks. Eventually, you both settled up on the couch to flip the channels. News broke of the attack at Piccadilly later that evening. You both sat discussing plans for the upcoming autumn collection when you were interrupted by an emergency broadcast.

"What the hell?" you said as your eyes began to read the words on the screen. it notified the public of a situation at the Piccadilly Circus in London and your heart sank.

"Oh my god, all those people," Lila said and clasped her hands tightly together. Your ears started to ring as you remembered, Kyle, Kyle is in SAS, Kyle is in the SAS unit in London, KYLE IS IN LONDON. You fumbled for your phone as Lila spoke but you couldn't hear her. I have to make some calls.

You ran into the kitchen, leaving voicemail upon voicemail for him but to no avail. You silently cursed to yourself for never to returning his calls or letters. What if he was there? What if he got caught in the ensuing attack? Your mind flooded with worry as you dialed his mother. When she picked up you shouted, "Is he okay?" "We don't know dear but we'll keep you updated," she said and in the background, you could hear her husband attempting to find their son through emergency services. "I know we haven't spoken in a while," you swallowed, "but if you hear from him, tell him that I love him."

That night you couldn't sleep. You checked your phone constantly in hopes of receiving any good news. Around midnight, your phone buzzed with a text. It was from Kyle's dad, "His captain says he is safe but he's been reassigned, says we won't be hearing from him anytime soon." You sighed in relief but the text was cryptic. As you lay in bed, you wondered where the hell Kyle was going.

Weeks passed as London recovered, you checked the news constantly for updates and talked to Kyle's parents daily. Apparently, it wasn't a surprise to not hear from him for months on end. You felt guilty as you wished you stayed in touch for their sake. In all these years, you forgot that he was their son too and they had both lost their parents.

While they returned to civilian life, you were wracked with guilt as you plucked flowers from the greenhouse. This was your newest addition to the home and it housed flowers that were difficult to harvest in the fall and winter months. As you gently cut delicate periwinkles and daffodils and added them to the basket, you sighed at the blossoming petals. You picked a periwinkle and crushed it in your hand. With your hand sticky with syrup and pollen, you let out a few tears. As they mixed with the sickly blue color of the crushed petals, you silently begged the universe to bring Kyle home. You would trade all of this- all your flowers and the shop, just to have him home safe in his parent's arms.

It was early December and you were managing the shop alone. Lila had gone on holiday with her family and you worked tirelessly to prepare for the upcoming festivities. It was warm in your store as you turned the sign signaling you were closed for the day. You went to the back to prepare some orders for the next day and hummed a carol as you worked. Just as you bunched another wreath together, you could hear the door's bell chime. "Sorry I don't know if you saw the sign, but we're closed," you said, emerging from the back room. When you saw who it was, you almost dropped the pine leaves in your hand.

"Long time no see," he said and you saw him, it was Kyle. It was him, aged five years, looking tall and broader than you remembered him. Stubble adorned his face as his lips curved into a smile. You eyed his bruised knuckles and scarred forearms, taking in every piece of him.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, cautiously. "Do you want the long or the short version?" he replied and took a step towards you. Soon, he was standing in front of you, a hand gently placed on your cheek. He looked at you and you nodded silently agreeing to his actions. You softened to his touch as he placed his other hand on your waist.

"Either," you breathed in the small space you found yourself in. "Well, the short version is that I needed to do two things. The first is to pick up a wreath for my mother, and the second is because I've wasted too much time not doing this." Before you could reply, he leaned down and you felt his soft lips on yours. Your eyes widened upon the sensation, tasting hints of hot chocolate on his tongue. He moved his hands to your back and pulled you into him. You quickly found yourself holding his biceps, feeling how strong he had gotten during all this time.

When you parted, you still maintained the embrace. You looked into his eyes, he was searching yours for a response. “I need a second,” you said as you rushed back into the prep room. Tears rolled down your face as your mind was clouded with a mix of emotions. Unlike when you left Kyle with a dying Nana, he followed you. “Y/N, talk to me,” he begged as you collapsed against a refrigerator holding cut flowers. “Why did you come here, Kyle?” you asked through tears, he joined you and held your hand as he explained. “I told you already,” he said softly but you wouldn’t accept that answer. “Why did you really come here?” you pleaded.

“I came here because I’ve loved you ever since I was a kid. I knew I loved you when you shoved your bouquet in my hands and explained to me every single one. I loved you when you caught me with your sticky hands and stuck marigolds in my hair. I tried to tell you when it was your birthday and I made that cake for you. I even dated someone who reminded me of you because I thought you only saw me as a friend. I spent the last 5 years trying to move on but whenever I fell asleep I would always dream of you smiling at me from a garden we planted together,” he said and your tears continued to fall as he described all the moments he was hopelessly falling for you. You couldn’t fathom how blind you both had been for all those years. Silence filled the air as Kyle held your hands tightly and you avoided his gaze. Finally, you found the strength to speak.

"I'm sorry," you began to say. "You're sorry?" he said confused, "Did I do something wrong?" You shook your head as you tried to escape his grip. "No, I'm sorry we grew apart. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I didn't go to your graduation and spend the holidays with you. I'm sorry for letting go," you whispered. You were ashamed to look at him and tried to leave his piercing gaze. He let go of you slightly, only to hold your chin to look up at him. "I'm sorry for leaving," he whispered back, "I learned a lot while I was gone. I lost good friends, I'm not letting another one get away," he finished before giving you a small kiss. You were speechless, a whirlwind of happy and melancholy emotions. Before Kyle could respond with concern you spoke for him. "Dogwood blossom, love undiminished by adversity."

"I'll do you one better," he said before pulling out a phlox blossom from his pocket. "Phlox, our souls are united." After two decades, you finally were able to kiss him, your Kyle, the neighborhood boy with marigolds in his hair.

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

[whatthefishh]

Arty Boy

Rydal Keener x f!reader

Words: 1.9k; part of the Oxford Comma series but can be read alone I guess

Warnings: no smut but mature themes-ish, mentions of sex and intimacy, fluff, soft Rydal, bickering, rich people shit, a glance at their relationship over a few months

“No, you’re not allowed to smile at me like that.”

“Wha– I wasn’t smiling like anything!” he countered.

“What, what is it? What are you hiding, you’ve got that look on your face when you’re hiding something from me,” you threw the sweater of his that you were holding, into his suitcase where you were currently packing his things for winter break.

You had spent the last few weeks of spending almost every day together, learning each other in your own way, asking the deep cutting questions first and following up with asking what his favourite colour was. Rydal was gentle when he asked you about where you grew up, his petty comment all that time ago about your hometown at the forefront of his mind. You told him everything there was to know as you lay on top of his chest, tracing your finger in mindless circles on his skin while avoiding eye contact. You had asked him what he wanted to do with his life. He didn’t have a straight answer.

“Not become my father,” he had muttered.

“What does that mean?”

He never did answer your question now that you thought about it. You were brought back to the present when he got up from his place where he was lounging on the bed like some antiquated forgotten prince in his prime. He sure looked the part, was bred into the role. Moulded for it really. The way his hair flopped into his eyes was surely a gift from the gods themselves. Rydal opened one of his desk drawers and reached inside, pulling out a book before turning to you with that disarming stare of his.

“Since I have to leave you in this cold, dreadful, lonesome building for the holidays–”

“Okay, relax, I won’t be entirely alone–”

“–all by yourself, without me–”

“–Eleanor is staying, too, for fuck’s sake I already mentioned this–”

“–I got you something,” he finished without the flourish you were expecting.

Rydal presented you with the book in his arms, brandishing the title as if he were an old-fashioned tour guide in Europe, arm movements and all. Cheeseball. It was an early edition of Pride and Prejudice, one of your favourites – ridiculously well kept and the pages hardly creased from lack of use. The binding was perfectly intact and you were almost afraid to take it from his hands, eyes darting between the title and his face in shock.

He brushed off your reaction and protests, insisting that you took it off his hands, that you’d be doing him a favour really, and that he had no use for it. You hardly believed him but accepted the gift nonetheless, noticing the way his chest puffed out with pride at your excitement over it, and cherishing what must have been a family heirloom that he so freely handed over to you.

///

The next time Rydal got you something that made you slightly nervous to accept was in February. It was before Valentines, the two of you choosing to ignore the ostentatious and offensive holiday in favour of just passing midterm season. He was so casual about it, leaving it in your bathroom cabinet with your other cheaper toiletries in its original packaging, slapping the tiniest pink bow you’d ever seen on it so you’d know it was from him. You don’t even remember telling him about it, the Chanel bottle glaringly out of place amongst your other drug store products.

You made sure to wear it the next time you saw him, and you fucking knew he was waiting for you to with the way he pressed his nose into your neck and deeply inhaled as you greeted him. If this was another game of his, you weren’t going to be the one to back down and admit you squealed and showed it off to your roommate.

You probably shouldn’t have done that last part. Eleanor was already jealous enough as it was, complaining that her boyfriend still hadn’t made reservations for the cringey celebration.

Rydal made sure to be extra handsy that day, taking any and every excuse to lean into your personal space and show his appreciation that you wore what he bought for you. Which, okay, fine, you liked that you had that effect on him but he was bordering on hedonistic as he mouthed at you. Not that you were complaining but you definitely pushed him away a few times out of fear of him sucking a bruise onto your skin in broad daylight.

You made sure to spray the perfume all over your body the next time you saw him, fully expecting him to go batshit and not let you leave his dorm.

///

Towards the end of the semester with the prospect of summer looming over your heads, you felt more and more needy towards Rydal. You were not only stressed about the end of your second year, but finals and the fear of not seeing him for the next four months despite his plans and promises. Not only were you stealing his t-shirts that carried his scent with them, hoarding them away for lonely nights, you were also playing your hand with his other possessions.

You began wearing anything and everything at least once for fear of his memory leaving you in the short time you were away from each other. This ended up with you rifling through his closet while he showered, trying on different sweaters and blazers before finding a pair of sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket of one of his jackets, tossing it aside quickly before trying the classic Raybans on.

Which is exactly how he found you, looking at yourself from different angles in the mirror and seeing if you could pull off the heavy metal frames. If only they were just a tad smaller. Sighing, you deposited them into his outstretched hand, his subtle smirk going unnoticed by you.

Rydal thought this side of you was hilarious, he knew exactly what you were doing when you thought you were subtly tucking his shirts away into your bag before leaving. He found this new behaviour incredibly endearing, especially since you refused to admit that the time away from him was going to be a problem anytime he asked.

It’s not that he didn’t feel the same, no, he definitely wasn’t looking forward to the month you’d have to spend apart. He was afraid of the morning he would have to wake up in his childhood home without the option of you being there, or just a couple minutes of a walk away. Just the thought of it made his stomach churn uncomfortably but he refused to think about it.

A week after the awkward sunglasses incident, you received a nondescript brown package to your dorm. Thinking it was for your roommate, you left it for Eleanor on her bed without a second glance. You didn’t order things to your dorm, you were fucking poor.

When she picked it up, she scoffed at the shipping label before walking it over to you, muttering something about Sebastian needing to step his game up. Looking down at the package again, you saw that it was addressed to you. You ripped the package open in confusion before lifting the spectacle case out of the bubble wrap, your mind immediately jumping to your stupidly well off boyfriend.

Inside the case was the matching women’s version of the frames he owned, the same ones that were just a bit too large for your face. You hated the swooping feeling you got while putting them on.

///

Summer was upon the both of you before you were ready. You had to say your goodbyes, temporary or not, you couldn’t very well go home with him and he wouldn’t last a day in your life. You just had to wait until you met up in June, at his family’s summer home. There, you’d spend a month or two, depending on how uncomfortable you were in the presence of other nepo babies.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re suffocating me, right?”

His voice came out muffled against your shoulder which was currently pressed up against his mouth from where you had thrown your arms around him.

Pulling back to press your foreheads together, his hands came up to hold your face between them.

“I’ll be back under your skin before you know it… hopefully under you before either of us know it.”

///

When you saw him again in June, you were a nervous wreck. The pressure of not only seeing him outside of your normal routine of school but also in the presence of his family and other privileged kids, some of which went to school with you both, was making you unnaturally quiet. Rydal, of course, noticed.

“C’mere, baby, gotta show you something.”

“Rydal, we can’t have sex in the pool changing rooms,” you started.

“No, what? Ew. What the fuck— ew, no! I’m not that easy—“

You made a face.

“Let’s not get into how easy you were for me—“

“—not fair, you should’ve seen yourself—“

“—practically begging me to suck you off—“

“—you know I like when you say the word suck—“

“—why did you ask me to follow you in here?”

Rydal reached into his pocket, thick hands pulling the already tight fabric even more taught causing your eyes to openly ogle his thigh. It’s been a long month and a half away from each other, you couldn’t help it and you weren’t drooling, okay?

He pulled out a small blue box, the distinct colour of it starkly contrasted against his sun kissed skin. Robin’s egg blue. No, that’s not quite right. Tiffany blue. Tacky white bow on top.

Your heart stopped beating.

“Rydal, what— I can’t accept whatever is in that box,” you were stuttering and your eyes were most definitely welling up.

“Hey, hey. It’s just an early birthday present,” his arms came up to pull you closer. “I… I like buying you things. Pretty things. You deserve them, baby, will you at least let me show you?”

He was being uncharacteristically gentle with you, out of place in the echoing changing room by the pool. Well, that’s not entirely true, was it? Rydal showed you his gentle and soft side often, however, it was usually masked with a bratty comment here and there. If you let yourself take the time to remember, he had been showing you kindness from the day you met him, ready to forgive you for ruining his best friend’s stark white shoes.

And that’s the thing with Rydal, he was always going to be soft for you, even if he covered it up with messy words to make you frown at him. He never wanted you to grovel for him or his money, never expected you to treat him any differently for all the pretty things he bought you, for all the liberties he granted you.

Looking up into his doting eyes, you found him waiting for your response, if you would let him buy his girlfriend a birthday present. To grant him permission to adorn you. You nodded hesitantly.

He was excited to open the box and take out the tennis bracelet, a delicately bejewelled thing. He was eager to clasp it around your wrist before watching you admire it.

“Do you—“

“I love you.”

[springzy]

hello again darlings !! sage (s/h) here to introduce the lovely han jieun aka julie. julie was created to fulfill my true crime cravings, so i apologize in advance for any crazy themes you may or may not come across. she's quite the girl for someone her age anyways. with a high iq and the luxury of a golden spoon, she's everything you'd expect—pastel pinks, diamond jewelry, short skirts, straight hair; yet a blunt attitude underneath all the glitter that puts herself in the wrong situations. especially since she works as an administrative assistant in the town hall. so, i'm sure you'll be seeing plenty of her pretty face if you enjoy it or not.

♡ 정보 𓂃 ⋆ profile & memories & connections.

like this for a dm or reply to this for a starter.

— the tl;dr

han jieun / julie • march 13th, 1999 • second born by han junseo, hanul ai founder & bae saran • top of class oxford graduate • ex-nis agent intern and author, current administrative assistant • floor 9, unit 3 • pisces, rabbit, intj-a, true neutral(?)

tw: abuse (mental and physical), cheating, murder, death, underaged victims, and mentions of serial cases.

— the story

unfortunately given birth in a family that expected the most. she was intelligent, sure, but the good grades and awards wasn't enough to please her father. everything revolved around her older brother, han jiwoo, who was set to run the company.

presented herself as a typical rich girl, most likely for attention than anything else. from high heels, perfect makeup, attractive looks, expensive brands, and a no-can-do attitude—at least her classmates could give her the attention (and drama) she craved.

took up tennis in middle school via her mother. probably one of the only things she actually grew attached to.

but then in high school, her best friend who also practiced tennis, was killed at a competition in the locker rooms. julie saw the whole thing and who did it, but she didn't have the courage to stop it from happening. the culprit got away. in the end, she developed a strong fear against blood and a slight ptsd from witnessing that at her age.

luckily she found her calling through that event. she got shipped off to oxford then decided to study law and psychology. her goal was to work on understanding the human mind and why they do what they do (yes.. this is basically criminal minds lol).

met her best friends there, went to a lot of parties, gained honor's through oxford, was an overall well rounded student. this was the time of her life she felt most like herself.

oh yeah, did i mention she got engaged?

after returning to korea she managed to score an internship with the nis via recommendations and her high iq score. here she worked on a lot of serial or extreme cases with her team. she even anonymously wrote a book called "under oath" about some of the cases.

but then got murdered by the lover of one of the brutal killers she wrote about. it happened in an alleyway with a hammer. how fun, am i right?

— the sequel

arriving in ansong she doesn't remember much of how it started. the first thing she can really put together is: standing in front of the apartment's desk that already had her unit prepared for her.

by a month later and she's managed to capture a job at the town hall. she just felt most inclined to work for the city. an easy office job where she simply works with files and paperwork all day.

eventually she put the pieces together that she used to attend oxford. all of her friends and memories there feel nostalgic, but also confuse her too much. she honestly tries to avoid thinking about it because the entire concept makes her feel sick to her stomach.

she likes to spend her free time at the library, book stores, coffee shops, or flower venues. she likes pretty things or trying to avoid all the bad things in her head by using those items.

there's not a whole lot since she's still very new to town. all she can 100% understand is that she wants to stay in ansong for quite some time. she has no want or need to remember her life. it scares her anyways.

— the connections

anyone that loves her fashion taste and wants to learn.

maybe floor neighbors she’s not familiar with.

a best friend she talks to everyday!

someone to share work drama/complain about boss with.

strangers meeting at bad moments.

a food employee that she’s a regular for.

group of friends that sees movies every week together.

give me more negative based relationships!

or go to her connections page for more in depth ideas.

besides that: more to be added eventually.