#looking forward to reading her book also!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yuansie · 2 days ago

Text

ocean memories : that it will not end tragically like the last

synopsis. the little demon from the other night appears once more, and this time he has a goal. you silly girl, you should have turned him away!

pairing. rafayel x fem! non mc! reader

warnings. mentions of (implied) bullying, you can tell yn is lowk ostracized (?) 💔, silly banter between rafayel and yn. if there's anything i'm missing, please let me know!

genres. fluff

rating. sfw

w/c. 1.9 k

a/n. guys editing and formatting shit on the website on your PHONE is not for the weak. my damn fingers hurt 😭 i hope you all enjoy this chapter 😈 (heads up: next two chapters are going to start going downhill LOLLLLLLL #sorry #iloveangstSUEMEEEEIDGAFFFF) also i didnt know how to end the chapter... #notproofread #wedielieshinomiyakikuro'sdad #WHOSAIDTHAT dont read the second hashtag if you watch kn8... its a manga spoiler 😭😭

THE REAL CURSE IS NOT THE COLOR OF YOUR HAIR, it is the boy from the other night.

he comes by unannounced in the middle of the of the night once again; you don't even register he’s there, as you are engrossed in your old book, until your window slides open. at first, there is nothing but the darkness from outside. you stand up to shut it, only to gasp and trip backwards on a random painting you have on the ground. you land with a thud and you wince, pain flaring up your arm.

a tuft of purple hair appears, then a face and a pair of blue and red colored eyes.

“oh,” his eyes widen in surprise. “i didn't mean to startle you. are you okay?” he asks, jumping inside your room.

you gape at him. “what are you doing?” you hiss, sharply exhaling from your nose as you get on your knees. you rub your sore arm with a hand, glaring at the boy. “you’re trespassing right now. leave before i scream.”

“uh, no thank you!” the boy leaps forwards, clamping a hand over your mouth.

“wha—hmph!” your words are muffled by his warm hand.

his eyes, wide with panic, are directed at you. “stat quiet!” he loudly whispers. “you’re going to alert the whole neighborhood!”

you swat his hand away and scoff. “as i rightfully should! there’s a stranger in my room!”

the boy huffs, jutting his lower lip out slightly. “i’m trying to apologize here, and you keep villainizing me. first a demon, and now a stranger? what's next: a cat?”

“what the heck is a cat?” your furrowed brows illicit a dramatic gasp from him.

“you don't know what a cat is?”

you deadpan. “i wouldn't be asking you if i did.”

he clears his throat. “w-well, cats are the real demons.”

“…cats are probably better than you.”

“they are not!”

“they—”

“y/n?”

your mom’s voice rings out from the kitchen. an orange glow filters in through the cracks of the doorframe, and the sound of footsteps nearing grows louder. you hurriedly shove the boy under your bed, shushing him harshly when he whines. the door creaks open, and your mom's head pops in.

“what are you doing?” she quietly asks.

you gesture at the painting by your legs. “i wanted to see if i could paint something better than this.” you almost wince at how naturally the lie falls from your tongue.

why are you even lying for your intruder?

your mom laughs, shaking her head afterwards. “why do you always paint so late?”

with a shrug, you answer, “i tend to be more creative around this time.”

“uh-huh,” your mom hums, laughing quietly afterwards. “well, i think your creativity should sleep for a bit.”

“you're probably right.”

“i am probably right.” your mom leans against the doorframe, “goodnight, my little guppy.”

“mom,” you whine, “i’m not that little anymore.”

she tuts, “you’ll always be my little guppy.”

you look away from her, lips slightly pursed. “goodnight, mom.”

“goodnight, guppy~” she sings, quickly closing the door before you can retort another denial. the room is silent.

“little guppy, huh?” a tuft of purple hair pops out from underneath your bed, bicolored eyes sparkling with amusement staring into your own blue eyes.

“shut up.” you narrow your eyes and lean forwards, pushing his head back. “move. you're on one of paintings.”

he mumbles an apology and rolls away. you carefully pick up the canvas and examine it. purple hair tickles your cheek as the boy leans and rests his head on your shoulder. you glance at him from the corner of your eye.

“that's pretty,” he says. “what's it supposed to be?”

your gaze falls back on the canvas. “i don't know.” and you really don't know what the bright and dark blue swirls are supposed to be, you don't know what the smudges of white are meant to be, neither do you know what the purple at the center is. you remember waking up one night, your heart aching and your head throbbing.

the purple speck—you remember feeling mad when you added it.

you don't mention that.

“…rafayel.”

“well that's a stupid name,” you snort. he gasps and leans away from you, his mouth open in shock.

“what?” he blinks at you, his lips now turned downwards into a frown. “how could you say that? you g—” he exhales slowly. “you… you gremlin! you're so rude…”

“i think i’m allowed to be rude when an intruder is in my room and won't leave.”

his frown deepens. “what can i do?”

“what?” you squint at him.

the boy grows serious, and stares at you with determination in his eyes. “you're clearly not going to call me by my name, so what can i do to get you to do that?”

a devilish thought crosses your mind; you smile widely. “there's something you can do for me.”

“really?” he grabs onto your hands, his skin warm against yours. you grimace and shake his hands off.

“i recently ran out of red paint,” you say, getting up from the ground and heading towards your desk. you grab a canvas you had there and turn around, pointing a finger at the bright and rich crimson on it. “get me some more of this exact shade.”

he furrows his eyebrows. “how am i supposed to do that?”

“figure it out,” you shrug. “now get out.”

you don't see the boy for a week, and you think you never will until he approaches you.

in broad daylight.

the kids of the neighborhood whisper and crowd in front of your home, some even shouting at him to stay away from you because you're cursed. their childish antics sour your mood.

“shut up!” the boy abruptly turns to face the crowd of kids before he reaches you. you can't make out the look on his face, but you assume he must look really angry for the kids to grow pale and run off.

with a huff, he walks up to you and sticks his hand out, a jar of red paint in his grip. “that was really hard,” he says, a pout on his lips. “i had to crush so many seashells…”

the giggle you let out has him snapping his head at you, jaw slack from surprise. “you just laughed!”

you ignore his comment and grab the jar from his hands, tilting it as you inspect it. the red is vibrant, very intense and brilliant in your eyes. “not bad,” you finally say, looking up at the boy. “thank you… rafayel.”

the tips of rafayel’s ears bloom a red much brighter than the paint in the jar, his lips curving upwards into a pretty smile.

rafayel doesn't say anything afterwards, and spends the rest of the day with you. you learn that day he isn't all that bad for being a troublemaker. surely, if you let him in just the tiniest bit, he won't leave after his curiosity is sated... right?

previous | masterlist | next

taglist (open). @bakutual @nadinefromwhere @justmystical @holywaterbucketchallenge @megufushi @bellslovemachine @roobiedoobiedoo @reiofsuns2001 @lucifers-silhouette @dana-nite @xsammijoanneex @killcxm @dekiruxxx @llamabois @nm4565natty @vigtore

OCEAN MEMORIES, yuansie 2025

93 notes · View notes

dazaih · 1 day ago

Text

wingman - luke skywalker x reader

you can find the previous chapters here

chapter ten -> unexpected encounters

your university roommate han solo finds a rival (and love interest) in student council president leia skywalker, but both of them are too stubborn to admit that they have feelings for each other. luckily, you and her twin brother, luke, devise a plan to get the two of them to spend more time together. challenges arise, however, when you start to develop a crush on him.

chapter warnings: discussion of past violence, making out in public, slight nipple stuff, drinking and smoking, little bit of jealousy, luke has gross friends

a/n: sorry for glazing lando but i do fully believe that luke would think he’s hot asf. also i’m excited for the next chapter—but we r making it closer to the end!

Communication with Luke had been sparse lately, as soccer was picking up quite a bit. He still texted you every few days though. He had started taking photos of food he was having and sharing them with you, often with little captions detailing what it was and how he ranked it. You began looking forward to his food reviews, as you loved entertaining his interests. He would also often ask you for movie recommendations when he was traveling on the bus for games, which were farther and farther away as playoffs grew closer. Despite your busy schedules, you were keeping in touch. That made you happy.

When you arrived home on Friday evening, you were surprised to see Leia sitting at your kitchen table. Han was wearing glasses—something he refused to do in front of anyone other than you and Chewie—and a book sat open before him, but he wasn’t reading it. Rather, he was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking downright upset.

“Hello,” Leia greeted you, giving you a forced smile.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to assess the tension in the room, “Are you guys okay?”

“They arrested him,” she said simply. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that she was talking about Fett. She didn’t deliver it like it was good news. Han said nothing, staring down at the table.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Han isn’t going to press charges.”

You whipped your head around to face him, surprised by his decision.

“What?” you exclaimed, but he avoided your eyes, “He tried to kill you, Han.”

“I am not pressing charges against Boba Fett,” he replied slowly, with a sense of finality that made your nerves spike.

“Han, your testimony could put him away for a long, long time—“ Leia tried, but he cut her off.

“You guys don’t get it. You don’t get what they’re like. He’s just the messenger.”

“Then what will you do?” you asked, hands on your hips as you stared him down.

“Repay my debt,” he answered, sighing, “And I’ll probably have to add in a little more since Lando’s eyewitness account is what got him thrown in jail. I’m already in deep enough shit as it is. I am not pressing charges, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna testify in court. Are you guys fucking crazy?”

“You can’t repay your debt. You’re taking an additional semester. It’s gonna be a long time before you’re making enough money to even pay a fraction of it,” you argued, growing increasingly desperate by the second, “Let me chip in, at least. Or I can cover your rent for the rest of the year.”

He said nothing. You felt bile rise in your throat as another realization began to set in.

“You are not going to work for them again,” you asserted, sitting down in the chair across from him, “Han, you said yourself that you can’t—“

“I don’t have any other choice.”

“That’s not true,” Leia said, avoiding his gaze, “We can press charges against Fett, and then prosecution could offer him a plea deal in exchange for giving them information about the Hutts, which we could use to get their entire operation shut down—“

“There is no we, Leia,” he snapped, “Just stop. Both of you. It’s my shit, and I’ll figure it out. It’s not anyone else’s business.”

“He attacked my brother, Han.”

“And he’s not gonna do it again if you guys just stay out of it from now on.”

“What if I press charges then?” you asked.

His head snapped up then, and he gave you a desperate look that you’d never seen on him before. It made you uneasy.

“Do not. Please.”

The edge to his voice shattered any of your prior audacity, and you stared at him for a moment, bewildered by the level of emotion radiating from him. He almost looked like he might cry, but you’d never seen him do that, so such a thought was unfathomable to you.

“Okay,” you conceded, reaching out and grabbing his hands to try to comfort him, “I won’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, whether it was to himself or to you, you weren’t quite sure, and then he sharply turned to Leia, “And please don’t tell me what I think you’re gonna tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, pursing her lips and staring at her folded hands, “Even if Luke doesn’t testify, I don’t think the state will drop it. He’s a high profile victim.”

“Why’d you have to go and fuck the senator’s kid?” he asked you, his head hanging low, “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Han—“

“Call him. Call him right now and tell him not to press charges.”

“You can’t ask me to do that,” she protested, though she seemed apologetic about it, “Look, Han. We can get this straightened out, okay?”

“Stop saying we,” he pleaded, and then, with a final sigh, he stood and threw his glasses down onto the table, “I’m going for a drive.”

“Don’t shut us out,” Leia told him, standing to match his stature.

“Stay out of it, Leia,” he said, pointing a finger in her face.

With that, he grabbed his keys and slammed the door shut behind him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days had passed since you’d learned of Boba Fett’s arrest. Han had tried to pretend like nothing had changed since then, but you were now constantly regarding each other with an air of suspicion. He was worried that you would follow through on your previous threat to testify, and you were afraid that he would resume contact with the Hutts. It was an uncomfortable situation, you and Chewie walking on eggshells around him at every turn.

Adding to your stress was the fact that you didn’t know whether or not Luke would testify. You didn’t think you could just ask him that, but the question loomed over you.

One evening, things came to a head. You and Chewie were sitting on the couch eating ice cream and watching reality television when Han stormed inside and threw his stuff down, staring at you both pointedly.

“We’re going out tonight,” he stated, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Okay?” you replied, unsure of where this was coming from.

“We’re gonna have a good time. And we’re not gonna talk about any of that bullshit. And you’re both gonna stop looking at me like you feel sorry for me.”

You shared a nervous glance with Chewie, who offered you a reassuring nod. Alright, then.

“This feels irresponsible,” you noted, anxiously chewing your bottom lip, “But okay. Where do you want to go?”

“Wherever the music is,” he answered, grinning, “Be ready in an hour.”

You entertained his request. Your cooperation was due in part to being genuinely worried about him and wanting him to be able to have a nice night, but also because you were excited to spend time with him again in a way that didn’t feel tense or awkward. You didn’t bother dressing up tonight; something casual paired with Han’s leather jacket would suit you just fine. He was ready right when he said he would be, and the three of you headed downtown to scout out some live music.

Fortunately, you were successful pretty early on. You hadn’t really wanted to bar hop tonight, so this worked out well. Less fortunately, however, was that this was a quite a popular venue, and the band was doing cheesy pop covers to appeal to your peers. You would need to have at least one drink to enjoy it, you realized, so you headed off towards the bar.

When you arrived, however, you were surprised to find that none other than Lando was sitting there, in deep discussion with one of his friends.

“Well, look who we have here!” he cheered when he caught sight of you, standing to hug you in that uniquely charismatic way of his.

“Hey,” you greeted him tiredly, not bothering to be polite, “Han’s here, and I think he’s kind of pissed at you for handing over an eyewitness report without consulting him first. Just a heads up.”

“Can’t I want to talk to you for a bit before facing his wrath?” he asked cheekily, gesturing for you to take the seat next to him, “Vodka cran, right?”

Before you could reply, he waved over the bartender and ordered you a double, flashing you a perfect smile.

“Thanks,” you said slowly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Yeah, not to be a dick or anything, but you were kind of complacent in someone I love being beaten within an inch of his life. And now you’re buying me a drink like the last time I saw you wasn’t horribly traumatic. I’m not really feeling up to exchanging pleasantries right now. Sorry.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes so serious that you thought he might start berating you. You jumped in your seat a little when he burst out into laughter, shaking his head at you like you were an old friend.

“No wonder Han is so fond of you,” he mused, smiling at you again, “I am sincerely sorry about what happened that night, but you should know that he and I have been in touch since. He understands that I legally have to report incidents like that as an employee.”

“Begrudgingly,” a voice behind you snapped.

You let out a sigh of relief when Han and Chewie appeared next to you, providing some respite in such an uncomfortable situation. Chewie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you offered him a sip of your drink.

“Chewie! And Han, dear friend,” Lando said happily, standing and embracing the other man, “To whom I owe many favors.”

“We’ll see if you make good on your part,” he grumbled, “Seems like you’re wasting money on flattery right now.”

“Not flattery,” he denied, something smug about him, “Just being friendly.”

“A little too friendly.”

“Han,” he reprimanded, clicking his tongue before turning to you, “How do you stand him being so protective of you? He’s acting like your mother.”

In spite of yourself, you smiled a little at the absurdity of Han being called motherly in any sense of the word.

“I manage,” you replied a little less coldly than before.

You relaxed further when Han just rolled his eyes and slapped Lando on the back hard enough to hurt, leaning down so that the other man could mumble something in his ear. Han looked at you curiously before nodding at something Lando said, and then he stood, messed up your hair, and walked away with Chewie at his side.

“I’ve been given a task,” Lando explained, leaning a bit closer to you, “One that I’m happy to oblige, if you’re willing.”

“Excuse me?”

He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, but made no move to touch you or invade your space.

“Don’t look now, but Skywalker is watching.”

There was no way Luke could be here. You supposed it was quite crowded and you’d only just arrived, but how had you not seen him? And why would he be staring at you? Had Lando not warned you against it, you would’ve immediately turned to find Luke in the crowd, unbelieving of the idea that he’d be looking at you.

“And?” you dared to press, suddenly feeling his eyes on you and knowing that it had to be true.

“You’re tangled up in some sort of mess with him, aren’t you?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek for a second, mulling over his question. Your shoulders slumped as you forced yourself to admit it out loud for the first time.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you confessed, chasing the words down with your drink.

“I think it’s mutual, if you don’t mind me saying as much,” he told you, taking a sip of his own beverage, “He comes to Cloud City a lot. I haven’t seen him with anyone else since the night he came to your defense. It’s unusual for him.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then why’s he glaring at me?”

The prospect seemed so outright ridiculous to you that you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bitter and frustrated.

“It’s probably just because he thinks you’re a dick for taking Fett’s bribe at first.”

“Ouch,” he winced, but he didn’t stay down for long, “But I don’t think so. He’s not that confrontational. Only when you’re involved.”

“Cut it out,” you warned, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“So what you two have is more complicated than it seems, I suppose,” he noted coolly, looking over your shoulder, “His drink is empty, but he hasn’t come over to the bar since you’ve been here. He probably can’t stomach the idea that I’m showing you a good time—doesn’t wanna deal with it up close. If only he knew you were actually laughing at me rather than with me.”

“You deserve it,” you murmured, though a sheepish smile tugged at your lips.

“I won’t argue with that.”

You giggled at that, unable to fully fend off Lando’s charm, and felt some of the tension drain from your limbs. You weren’t sure what kind of truce they’d arranged yet, but you knew that if Han had any doubts about Lando’s intentions, he would’ve never left you alone with him—even if he was in the same room, likely observing you like a hawk from afar.

“I should tell you that Han was comfortable enlisting help from me,” he said seriously, “I’ll make sure the trouble stops here, okay? He’s not gonna get hurt again. You have my word.”

The admission surprised you, and you couldn’t help the widening of your eyes, your disbelief unable to be concealed.

“His debt will be paid. It might take a while, but we’ll ensure that the Hutts are confident in his ability to give them their money.”

“You’re gonna help him smuggle drugs,” you realized bitterly, once again feeling betrayed by Lando, “He can’t—“

“This is better than him going alone, which was his initial plan. This way, he’ll at least have protection.”

You moved to get up from your seat, but Lando placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, urging you to sit back down. You obliged him for reasons you didn’t fully understand, and he offered you a glass of water out of gratitude.

“You should also know that Leia Skywalker approached me before he did.”

That intrigued you. You settled back into your seat fully then, picking your vodka cran back up and taking a dignified sip of it, a silent demand for him to continue.

“You can’t tell him about any of this,” he warned, leaning forward and whispering to you once more, “We’re gonna have him work under the Hutts for a little while to clear him of suspicion, show that he’s a loyal underling and all once he’s been scared straight. He won’t be doing this for long.”

“And then what?”

He pursed his lips together at that and shook his head, giving you an apologetic look.

“You’re not gonna tell me?” you asked, irritated.

“I’m sorry. It’s better that you don’t feel like you’re keeping secrets from him, isn’t it?”

“It’s better that I know he’s safe.”

“You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Do you trust Leia?”

You fell silent. Fine.

“You’re a good friend,” he told you before looking over your shoulder again, musing, “Ah. Shouldn’t have touched you, I suppose. I’ve poked the bear.”

Before you could figure out what he was talking about, you heard someone call your name excitedly, and suddenly a pair of strong arms looped around your neck, a kiss being placed on top of your head. You looked up to see Luke standing above you, leaning over your chair to keep you in a half hug without forcing you to stand.

“Hi,” he said, smiling brightly at you. There was an edge to him, though, and when you looked over your shoulder you could see Han smirking.

He must’ve said something to Lando about your infatuation with Luke, you realized. He was conspiring with the other man to make Luke jealous. It was so stupid, and so ridiculously Han that you wanted to laugh. Even more absurd was that it appeared to be working.

“Luke Skywalker,” Lando greeted, “Heard you all had a pretty nice game today.”

You couldn’t see Luke’s expression very well from this angle, but you thought he might’ve been annoyed.

“It was a lot of fun,” he replied politely, arms still wrapped around you.

“It seemed like fun. I don’t usually watch college sports on television, but I figured I’d tune in to see one of my favorite customers. You were fantastic.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding somewhat thrown off by Lando’s sudden interest in his sport, “They were an aggressive team, so we needed a drink after that.”

“I’m sure. Seemed like they were giving you in particular quite a bit of trouble. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at him, but didn’t react further.

“Right,” he replied, sounding skeptical, “Well, if you don’t mind, I might have to steal your company for a bit. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

You were surprised by that. You didn’t think he’d be so bothered by Lando that he’d want to pull you away from him, and you had to pretend not to be as amused as you were.

“That’s a shame, but I understand,” Lando said, before turning to you and smugly adding, “Well, if you’re able to make time for me later tonight, I’d love to continue our conversation.”

He threw in a wink, and your cheeks flushed in spite of yourself.

“Maybe. Thanks for the drink, Lando,” you murmured, standing.

“Bye, Lando!” Luke cheered, feigning innocence but looking proud of himself. He put his hand on your lower back then and guided you into the crowd, successfully getting you alone and near the wall. He was becoming skilled at dragging you away to locations that fulfilled those two requirements in particular.

Rather than interrogate you about Lando, however, the first thing he did was pull you into a hug. He pulled away to pepper kisses across your forehead, behaving as if the two of you were lovers who hadn’t seen each other in forever. The latter was true, but Han’s presence was likely responsible for the theatrics.

“It’s been too long,” he sighed, finally looking you in the eye, “Sorry. I’m not trying to be possessive or anything, I just—I needed to see you. And I don’t particularly like Lando, especially when he’s trying to embarrass me.”

“I don’t know how to feel about him. He bought me a drink, though.”

“I noticed.”

His tone made you giggle.

“How was he trying to embarrass you? Seemed like he was kissing your ass.”

“And that’s embarrassing,” he clarified, “But actually, he was about to bring up how some guys on the other team were being kind of rough with me. I could tell.“

“If you say so,” you hummed, tucking a blond curl behind his ear, as you often did these days, “Why were they being rough with you?”

“Because I’m good,” he replied, grinning.

“Right, right. Sorry, Captain.”

“I forgive you,” he told you, hands making their way down to gently grab your hips, “Couldn’t stay mad at you. Especially not when you look like this.”

“I look like shit,” you laughed, recalling that you hadn’t put much effort into your outfit tonight, “You’re just wound up because those guys were being ‘rough’ with you earlier, right?”

“Hey!” he gasped, giggling in the way that always made your head spin, “That’s crazy to say. I haven’t seen you in over a week and you’re making fun of me already.”

“It’s how I express affection,” you teased, leaning into him and placing a hand on his chest, “It’s okay, Luke. I know how easy you are to rile up. It’s only natural that a bunch of men in tight clothes getting handsy would—“

He cut you off by planting a kiss on your lips. He was likely only trying to shut you up, but you responded by biting his bottom lip, causing his grip on you to tighten. He sighed into the kiss, melting into you.

“Luke!”

There was a slim possibility that he just didn’t hear him, but Luke most likely deepened the kiss out of spite, hand coming up to your neck as he forced your lips apart even wider. He usually relented to your control at some point, but perhaps having an audience emboldened him, because he fully took the lead as he guided you backwards into the wall. You matched his fervor, looping your arms around his neck to give him more access to your body. He responded by slotting a knee between your thighs, his free hand near the hem of your shirt, practically begging to slip beneath the fabric and feel your skin.

“All good?” he pulled back to ask as you panted, the speed at which the encounter had escalated making you a little dizzy. You nodded, but he chastised you by clicking his tongue, lips close to your ear as he whispered, “I need to hear you say it, baby. We’re in public, it’s crowded, and I don’t wanna push you.”

“Yes,” you told him, nodding again, “I mean, I don’t wanna fuck in front of everybody or anything, but I wouldn’t be opposed to you touching me.”

“Wouldn’t be opposed to it?” he teased, gently nipping the skin by your jaw, “What exactly are you unopposed to?”

“You were about to put your hands under my shirt. Can’t you just do that?” you griped, squirming a little as his fingertips ghosted your ribs.

“Why did you just ask?”

You rolled your eyes, but your attitude dissolved when he finally complied, hand inching closer and closer to your chest. When he gently pressed the pad of his thumb against your nipple, you sighed, tilting your head and letting it rest against the wall. He attached his lips to your neck then, kissing down the side as he fondled your chest with the perfect amount of pressure, making you feel a little dizzy. Compiled with the fact that he didn’t mind if anyone saw him take you apart like this made your heart swell, and you felt a tinge of pride at the realization that you looked like you were his in this moment.

“Luke!” someone hollered again, and he reacted by softly biting the sensitive spot above your collarbone, causing you to quietly moan. You felt him smile against your skin, and you knew then that he definitely heard the calls of his friends.

“They’re trying to get your attention,” you managed to say, gasping a little as he continued to suck bruises into your skin, “Luke, they’re yelling for you—“

“They need to learn how to take a hint,” he mumbled, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingertips, “Do you want me to stop?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” you replied quietly. He had the audacity to giggle.

“I can see that,” he whispered, lips now dangerously close to your ear, “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. About your mouth. I’ve missed you.”

His words set your cheeks ablaze, and you responded by holding him closer to you. He laughed again and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with an emotion that seemed like something much more than lust.

“I missed you too,” you told him, feeling a little shy from your confession, “I’m glad to see you here.”

“I didn’t wanna go out tonight, but they always drag me somewhere after a win. I’m feeling a lot better about being here now though.”

You couldn’t help the grin that you were sporting, far too happy to hear that he was this excited to see you.

“Is that why you’re so eager tonight?” you teased.

“I also didn’t really like seeing Lando flirt with you,” he mumbled, looking down at his shoes for a moment, “I’m sorry. I know I’m not your boyfriend, but—I don’t know, actually. I’m not entitled to your time more than anyone else, I realize that, but I just really hated watching that.”

“He was trying to make you jealous,” you confessed, feeling embarrassed, “I think Han may have told him to.”

Luke cocked his head a little at you then, and subsequently burst into a fit of giggles. He looked around the room for Han, but due to the crowd he was unable to find him. Still, he shook his head fondly, surprising you with his reaction.

“Of course he did,” he mused, grinning, “He must have seen me before you did, then. But Lando was still a little too happy to indulge him.”

“Uh oh,” you frowned, perhaps a bit mockingly, “Am I banned from talking to Lando now? That’s a shame. He’s kind of cute.”

“Hey,” he pouted, pinching your nipple again to remind you of what you were supposed to be in the middle of, “No, you’re not banned from talking to Lando. That’s stupid as fuck. I don’t consider myself particularly possessive.”

“How noble,” you snorted, but you smiled nonetheless, because of course he wasn’t. Luke was just too nice, too good at emotionally regulating to ever actually instigate anything just because he was feeling jealous. His ability to think through situations like that was part of the reason why you adored him so much.

“But I’d be lying if I said I’d be happy for you,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Well, like, objectively speaking I might be a little happy for you. Lando’s really hot, and he’s a smooth talker. He’s like a much more polite version of Han. I don’t even know how mad I could be if you guys got together. Like, I would be disappointed, because I’d want it to be me, but—“

“Woah,” you interjected, “You’d want it to be you? As in you’d want to be the one dating Lando? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

You both laughed at that, Luke’s eyes bright even in the dim lighting of the bar.

“I’d be jealous of both of you, sure,” he teased, hands falling to grab your waist, “But I’d be especially jealous of him. I won’t stop you from pursuing Lando, if that’s what you wanna do, but I’d love it if you pursued me instead.”

His honesty was amusing and disarming, and you once again couldn’t conceal your laughter. You lightly shoved him, which he replied to with a grin, assuring you that this was all in good fun. You loved that the two of you could go from making out against the wall to making fun of each other on the flip of a dime. Everything with Luke felt natural, and everything was so incredibly fun.

“Are you sure? It sounds like you might have a crush on Lando.”

“I’d be stupid to refuse Lando, but he doesn’t flirt with me,” he replied, grinning, “And no. The only person I have a crush on is you.”

You wouldn’t have let yourself believe that he really meant that if it weren’t for the way his expression fell as soon as the words left his mouth. His eyes widened and his face paled, and he almost looked like he was panicking.

“I’m sorry. Listen, I’m—“

Before he could explain, Elias was behind him, grabbing his shoulders. Luke’s stress didn’t fully disappear, but now he looked more irritated than anything else.

“Luke!” Elias shouted, even though the other man was standing right next to him, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, man. We’re supposed to be celebrating you.”

He had no chance to protest before Elias was shoving him towards the bar. In a moment of apparent desperation, Luke reached out and grabbed your hand, effectively tacking you onto their group for the night. He shook Elias off by agreeing to follow him, and immediately entangled your fingers.

He mouthed an I’m sorry to you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. Something about it was strangely sweet, so you decided to put up with his friends for the time being. When you arrived at the bar, however, you saw Lando in the company of Han and Chewie. Han had never actually interacted with Luke’s friends before, and anxiety twisted in your gut.

“Fuck,” Luke hissed under his breath, and you looked around to see that quite a large crowd had gathered around the corner of the bar, anticipating his arrival. Most of the soccer team appeared to be there, and a considerable number of other people you assumed were in their friend group stood there as well. Of course, Marie and her friends were present too, and you tried to channel some of Luke’s overall good intentions despite his apparent jealousy.

“Luke!” a girl you didn’t recognize greeted him, pulling him into a hug. He politely returned it and told her hello, as he did with the people to follow in her footsteps for the next few minutes. Finally, one of his teammates presented him with a rather large mug of beer, thrusting it into his hands and spilling some of it onto his shirt.

“To Luke and his nomination for the Hermann Trophy. Way to go, man. Cheers.”

The group applauded and yelled some explicative words that were supposed to be praise, tilting their glasses to the ceiling in a toast. You had no idea what the Hermann Trophy was supposed to be, but it sounded like a positive thing, so you joined them in their applause. He smiled and took a sip of his beer, but the teammate from earlier then shoved it closer to his face, spilling some of it onto his neck in the process.

“Chug it!” someone hollered, and you saw Luke grimace.

“This is huge,” he remarked in a weak attempt to defend himself. As expected, no one cared. They all looked at him, waiting. He sighed and relented, forcing the liquid down his throat. It took him over a minute to chug the entirety of the mug’s contents, and he looked like he was trying not to gag afterwards. The boys cheered him on again, a few of them slapping him on the back rather harshly in congratulations. Marie ran over to him next, throwing her arms around him and talking right in his ear.

Chewie appeared behind you then, gently guiding you towards Han and Lando on the other side of the bar.

“What’s all that shit about?” Han asked, raising his eyebrow at you.

“He got nominated for some award, I guess. I think they just want an excuse to drink, and he’s their poster child. So.”

“You don’t know about the Hermann Trophy?” Lando asked. You shook your head.

“It goes to the best soccer player in the country. It’s the most prestigious award you can get in the sport,” he explained, looking at Luke, who was having another drink shoved in his face.

“Oh,” you replied quietly. You felt guilty and weirdly ashamed to not have known. Luke also never told you, which was a little hurtful.

“He’s been scouted a for it a few times, but people would’ve been pissed if he won over an upperclassman. It looks like he might actually get it this year.”

“You sure know a lot about our soccer team to not even go to school here,” Han snorted, “You a big fan of Luke, Lando?”

“I’m a local,” he shrugged, smiling, “And of course. He’s my favorite patron.”

“Well, good thing this ain’t your bar, because they’re making a mess over there.”

“And they’re being annoying,” you added, watching as Marie offered him a shot. You noticed that he didn’t try to pour it into her mouth, and you felt a little smug.

“You gonna rescue him?” Han asked.

“I’m supposed to be hanging out with you tonight,” you argued quietly, still staring at Luke.

“Uh huh,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Didn’t seem to be a concern to you when he was shovin’ his tongue down your throat a few minutes ago, sweetheart.”

“You saw that?” you squawked, mouth agape. Lando chuckled.

“Sure I did. Had to keep an eye on Lando to make sure he didn’t take any drastic artistic liberties, but I wasn’t expecting the kid to react that strongly. Almost sent Chewie over to set him straight.”

Chewie shook his head, as if to say I wouldn’t have done that. You giggled at his reaction in spite of yourself.

“If you had done that, I would’ve been really pissed,” you told them both, pointing your finger in Han’s face, “You can’t try to wingman for me and then get mad about the results. Those are the consequences of your actions.”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be so forward,” Han argued, “But maybe if you had been honest with me about the two of you fucking, I would’ve had a better idea of how far he was willing to go.”

“First of all, we’re not fucking. Second of all, that’s really bold coming from you, Han, because I’m pretty sure Leia wore your shirt home the other night. But whatever.”

Han looked affronted for a moment before scoffing and taking a drink of his whiskey. Lando laughed and shook his head, regarding Han with something akin to fondness.

“The twins have done a number on you both, huh? Glad you’re staying out of this mess, Chewie.”

Chewie grunted and held his hands up, making it very clear that he had no interest in getting involved with a Skywalker.

“I’m surprised Leia puts up with you though, Han. She doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Lando added, likely trying to get a reaction out of the other man. You laughed.

“Careful, Lando. Han’s the jealous type. Much worse than Luke.”

“I know. I’ve seen it in person before. He’s a menace.”

“Alright, alright. I don’t know how this turned into everyone shitting on me, but that’s enough,” he snapped, though he squeezed your shoulder affectionately and ordered you a light drink anyway.

“Speaking of Luke, he sure is popular tonight,” Han mused, only catching glimpses of the other man as he was bombarded by the crowd around him.

“He always is,” Lando replied, “And this is just for the watchlist. Imagine what will happen if he actually wins it.”

“Doesn’t look too happy though, huh?”

“He doesn’t like beer,” you added quietly, taking a sip of your own drink, “And he doesn’t like a lot of those people either.”

“Are you really gonna leave him to the wolves?” Han asked, sounding a little worried. You liked it when he fretted over Luke; it was sweet.

“He’s a grown man. And I don’t wanna make any assumptions.”

“You’d hardly be making assumptions. That boy is enamored by you,” Lando stated. Like it was some sort of fact.

“It’s really not like that.”

The only person I have a crush on is you. Could he have really meant that? Letting yourself get your hopes up would only hurt more in the end, but you couldn’t help but wonder.

“All four of you are dim. How do you stand it, Chewie?”

“Four of us?” Han asked, offended.

“The twins and you two. You need to get yourselves sorted out, because it’s getting painful to watch. And I’m only around every once in a while. I can’t image how poor Chewie feels.”

Chewie nodded in agreement, but a small smile played at his lips. Han rolled his eyes.

“Hey.”

You turned sharply at the voice you didn’t immediately recognize, only to see Biggs standing there.

“Hi,” you replied awkwardly, not quite sure what he could want. Han, apparently, took that as a sign that you were uncomfortable, because he took it upon himself to then intervene.

“Can we help you?” he asked, glaring at the other man. Biggs looked a little put off by that.

“Um, yeah. Sorry to bother you, but they’re about to try to haul Luke off to a bar crawl.”

“Okay?” you replied, eyebrow raised.

“And then they want him to go to this after party at Marie’s. And they’re gonna try to get them together.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” you snorted, turning back around to face Han and the others.

“I think he’d rather hang out with you.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you didn’t bother acknowledging him.

“Look,” he tried again, and you sighed when you relented and met his eyes again, “I just don’t think this is a good idea for him to be doing right now. He’s not very good at putting his foot down about this stuff, and I’m a little worried about how many drinks they’re handing him, and they’re being really insistent on him dating Marie because they want an in to fuck her friends. There are a lot of ways that this could go wrong.“

You weren’t exactly sure of what he was suggesting, but you felt uneasy.

“Why can’t you do something about it? They’re your friends. Tell them to fuck off.”

“It’s not that easy. They’ll get pissed at me. And at him. This only works if someone on the outside gives him an out. This is usually when Leia steps in with a dumb excuse and drags him home, but she’s at band practice.”

“‘This only works if someone on the outside gives him an out,’” Han sneered, mocking him, “You sound stupid, and you guys all have a fucked up perception of friendship.”

With that, he stood abruptly and shoved past Biggs, leaving the other man wide eyed. You watched as Han pushed his way through the crowd, apparently on a mission to get to Luke. Lando chuckled.

“Is that guy your boyfriend?” Biggs asked, staring at Han from across the bar.

“No,” you answered quickly, “My roommate.”

“He’s seeing Leia,” Lando added, smirking, “That’s probably why he decided to intervene. He’s doing it on her behalf.”

That made sense.

“I’m sorry,” Biggs said then, turning to you, “I know you don’t really like us. I understand why you wouldn’t. Some of us really do have his best interest at heart, though.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, distracted by Han dragging a grinning Luke out of the crowd, “Seems like most of you are just interested in him because of who his parents are.”

“I’ve known Luke for a long time,” he said, somewhat ominously, “And I know you think that he should stand up for himself more, but just try to understand that he really doesn’t wanna piss off the people who are defending him on the field. His career and his likability are pretty tangled up.”

“Alright, Biggs,” you murmured, growing a little uncomfortable with talking about Luke behind his back like this, “I’m not thinking about you guys as much as you think I am. It’s fine.”

“Chewie!”

You turned to see Luke hanging off of Han’s arm, his cheerfulness a dichotomy with Han’s disgruntled expression. You wished Leia could’ve seen it. Luke then let go of Han and focused his attention on your other roommate, pulling the tall man into a hug like they were old friends. Chewie awkwardly indulged him, looking to Han for help, who only shrugged.

“I’ve missed you guys. We should hang out,” he said, smiling widely. You wondered how many drinks he’d been given, because he was already in a much different state than the one you’d left him in.

“Thank you,” Biggs said to Han. Han only nodded, still regarding the other man with suspicion, but said nothing to him as he turned to leave.

“Are you leaving, Biggs?” Luke asked as he reached for him, “Did I ever tell you how we met? I had to live with my aunt and uncle for a little while, and—“

“Luke,” Biggs interjected, cutting him off, “Stop.”

“It’s fine. They’re like, really normal. They don’t care about that stuff—“

“You’re in public,” Biggs reminded him, grabbing his shoulder, “And you’re drunk. You can tell them tomorrow if you still want to, okay?”

“Oh,” Luke replied, looking around, “Okay. I’ll tell you guys tomorrow, then.”

“Get him home,” Biggs said, pointing at you, “I’m gonna tell them that Leia called and he has to leave, okay?”

With that, Biggs departed, Luke waving at him as he left. Han scowled.

“Pawning him off onto us when he gets too drunk. That’s fucked,” he complained, hands on his hips.

“I can get home by myself,” Luke replied, and you tried not to let the hurt in his voice overwhelm you, “I’m not that fucked up. I just probably shouldn’t hang out with them right now. But I can just go home, and you guys can stay and enjoy the rest of your night. It’s really okay.”

You watched as Han battled some sort of internal struggle, the conflict showing on his face.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he finally said, softening his tone a little, “Chewie, you and Lando can hang out here if you want. We can smoke when I get back.”

“You sure? We can walk with you guys,” Lando offered.

“It’s fine. I wanted a cigarette anyway. Have fun.”

With that, Han made his way to the door, staring at you and Luke expectantly. You supposed you were walking him home, then.

“I really don’t want to be a burden,” Luke protested. Han rolled his eyes and continued walking, making it clear that he was leaving the bar either way. Reluctantly, Luke followed, and you walked behind him.

Han was, in fact, lighting a cigarette as soon as you got outside.

“Your sister will kill me if your dickhead friends get you into trouble while I’m around,” Han explained, taking a drag, “So stop moping and lead the way.”

Luke sighed and began walking, hands shoved in his pockets as he started down the route to his apartment complex.

“I wasn’t trying to be an ass. I feel bad,” Han told you quietly, cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“I think it’s alright. He’s probably just overwhelmed. Getting shit faced in twenty minutes will do that to a person.”

Han nodded, and you ran to catch up with Luke. Even drunk, he was still much faster than you on account of being in shape.

“Hey,” you said, making it to his side, “You didn’t tell me about your award.”

“Hey,” he replied, a little sheepishly, “Because it’s not my award. I’m only a nominee.”

“A nominee for the best player in the country. That’s fucking crazy, Luke.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he said, dismissing you, “Is Han mad at me?”

“What?” you asked, a little surprised, “No, Luke. He feels bad that he snapped at you a few minutes ago, so he’s giving you some space. That’s just how he is.”

“I meant about the Fett stuff.”

You faltered, caught off guard by that.

“Oh,” you mumbled, “Um, I don’t think so? He hasn’t said much else about it.”

“I’m not testifying or anything,” he clarified.

“He wouldn’t ask you not to testify. You should if you feel like you need to.”

“I don’t want to. I hate court. It fucking sucks,” he said, trailing off a little. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but you weren’t about to press him for information when he was obviously inebriated.

“Okay,” you replied awkwardly, “That’s fine, then. Do what you want.”

“He’ll be okay,” he continued, “She’s making me stay out of it, but Leia’s really trying to pull some strings right now.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t really know what he was talking about, save for the vague information Lando had given you earlier.

“I’m impressed that you managed to choke down that beer,” you said instead, changing the topic.

“Oh, god,” he winced, scrunching up his nose in that adorable way of his, “You’re telling me. That was horrible.”

You continued to make small talk all the way to his apartment complex, one of you having tangled your fingers together at some point. Han put out his cigarette when you arrived at the doors, the man working the front desk in the lobby recognizing Luke and pressing the elevator button for him. You couldn’t get over how fancy this place was.

“You reek,” you told Han when he followed you into the elevator. Luke had wrapped himself around your good arm, leaning to be able to rest his head on your shoulder. He must’ve been tired.

Han just grunted, arms crossed. When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Luke dragged you out and into the hallway, holding you as close to him as he possibly could. He dropped his keys twice when he tried to open the door, and Han eventually grew frustrated and snatched them from his hands.

At last, he pushed the door open, and you finally completed your mission of returning Luke Skywalker to his home.

What came as a surprise, however, was the fact that Padme and Anakin Skywalker were sitting on the couch.

33 notes · View notes

nohoperadio · 3 days ago

Text

What do I want to read? This is the question @perdvivly asks us to consider in a recent book meme thing. This is not something I'm very orderly about most of the time, I don't really have a list (untrue but we'll get to that) I just possess a lot of unread books always and when I finish one I just kinda look around and see what seems good. I guess I'll be doing the post version of that here. I might not end up with 10 categories and they might not all be proper categories, dunno let's see what happens! Stuff I want to read in 2025:

Three English women I've mostly read and need to finish off who have not a ton else in common

So obviously we have Iris Murdoch, whose novels I've been deliberately rationing at 1-2 per year for the past 15 years; currently at 21 out of 26 read. I'm not gonna finish them all this year but I am thinking of picking up the pace a little bit, it would be embarrassing to die or something without getting to the end, the above numbers don't even include the philosophy and other bits that I intend to get to too, and I mean I'm obviously just going to keep rereading one or two per year for the rest of my life anyway so the sense of "oh no there'll be no more left" is maybe a little silly? Like it's cute that I've made her last this long but come on. Anyway I love her I love her I love her I love her.

There's less Jane Austen to get through, I read Northanger Abbey in January thus finishing the novels so it's just the incomplete Sanditon and then the juvenilia so I can say I've read all of her. Looking forward to seeing her get silly with it in some of this stuff. Oh and maybe there's some letters but I don't think very many?

And Virginia Woolf, again already finished all the novels as of this year but then there's--well there's a lot, I'll obviously finish the short stories soon but there's a lot of essays and stuff and I'll have to play by ear how deep I want to go there, I read vol 1 (of 6) of her diaries a while back and it was like half-fascinating half-boring, which I guess is the best we can hope for from unedited diaries... I possess the second vol but we'll see, we'll see. Do I care about her book on Roger Fry? Who knows. I wanna read Hermione Lee's biography of her too, I read the one by Quentin Bell (her nephew) which was pretty entertaining but I want to read a proper one too.

It's weird I'm pretty obsessed with her but like, you have to really get on her wavelength to actually enjoy her fiction ime, and getting on her wavelength is a mental trick I'm... kind of mid at? Like when I do fall under her spell it's like nothing else, you can really get swept up in her evident sincere conviction that every single thing that happens to everyone is intrinsically fascinating, but when the spell fails to work, I can't lie to you, it can be pretty boring? But I keep coming back to her because I crave the magic and probably always will.

(A year ago on this very tumblr I linked one of her (actually pretty unWoolfian!) stories and two people actually read it and liked it and that felt really good. If anyone's reading this please check it out and tell me what you think and I will give you. A little kiss.)

17th century British history

Fuck I gotta make these shorter than that. Alright well I've never really been a history reader tbh but I've randomly become a bit fascinated with the period around the civil wars and I'm seeing how far I can ride this, aside from like wikipedia and podcasts I've read Jonathan Healey's The Blazing World (which is kinda bleh, pretty loose narrative that often is just jumping around various anecdotes and quite shallow-feeling analysis), started Blair Worden's The English Civil Wars (much much better so far! It's short but feels way more grownup and less documentaryish). Have also bought but not started The Noble Revolt by John Adamson, intimidatingly long but highly regarded, and then for a primary source I have my eye on Edward Hyde's History of the Rebellion, written by Charles I's chief advisor and supposed to be fun... yeah we'll see how all this goes.

All this fucking poetry I have

I had to ban myself from buying poetry a long time ago because I kept falling in love with volumes in the bookshop and then when I get them home I just can't get it up for them somehow. I know I can like poetry because I can tell you poems I love but they're always isolated encounters, somehow sitting down with a book of poetry and spending real time with it is, not a thing I can really do? Or not a thing I can do on purpose very often. But like I don't believe that's my heart, this feels like it should be a solvable problem. So this section represents, I suppose, an intention to have another stab at solving it. Oh I guess I should mention some actual books right? Well this here anthology of Metaphysical Poetry is surely a promising start because the metaphysicals are clever and I value cheap cleverness extremely highly. Don Paterson's collection Rain is one I did actually succeed in getting deep into back in the day so perhaps I'll try his 40 Sonnets which I have here, a lot of it looks annoyingly avant-garde though (wrong type of clever). Two of my favourite bands have written songs about John Berryman which is probably as good a reason as any to pick up The Dream Songs. TS Eliot because I still know the first couple pages of Prufrock off by heart although I couldn't really get a handle on The Waste Land.

Muriel Spark too! Fun fact one of my earliest original posts on this account was just me posting a Muriel Spark poem I really loved and it didn't get any notes, go read it and give it some notes. I will give you a little kiss.

Phenomenology?

Okay this one is like, I'd be pretty surprised if it happens in a big way this year. Sad as fuck to say but I'm not sure the version of me that has a full time job is capable of accessing the requisite levels of not-being-tired to read long dense philosophy tomes, but I mean it's not like I've really tried lately. When I was a teen I started-didn't-finish all three of Being and Nothingness, Being and Time and The Phenomenology of Perception, and while they did technically defeat me this stuff was what convinced me philosophy was important, it's still really the only philosophy I've ever read whose value really seems beyond question. I've never really touched Husserl but at some point last year I impulse bought Ideas so clearly some part of me wants to do it. I don't know man! Maybe.

I want good nature writing to exist

This one is mostly not about specific books and is more of a cry for help, I ranted in the tags of this post about how frequently nature writing seems to go out of its way to like, be about anything other than nature? And I know it can't all be like that but I've been burnt a lot of times... I guess I've had more luck with the ones that are more pop sci branded than "nature writing" branded so maybe that's the way to go. But yeah if anyone has any recs for who is the anti-Helen MacDonald please do let me know.

Should I start reading the cool kid books?

In a way, I work in a bookshop, and I hope to keep doing that actually, so it might be professionally prudent to know something about like RF Kuang or Sally Rooney or whoever the fuck. However, I don't really care. So it's a dilemma!

I want to re-read Claire-Louise Bennett,

which might actually be doable this year because it's only two books and they're not very long or slow, but fuck she's good. The only really recent author I truly love I think? If I were asked to write a quippy quote to go on the back of her books I'd say she was equal parts Woolf and Tristram Shandy and then they wouldn't use my quote. I quoted Pond at some length in this post, I actually think Checkout 19 is probably better but there's not much between them. If you go with Pond don't be put off by the prose-poem shorts, I can take/leave 'em they're not really representative of the rest.

Weird depressed Europeans who go on about stuff too much

Some years ago I walked into the bookshop that would eventually become my workplace in a mood to find something totally new-to-me and fall in love with it, I came across Laszlo Krasznahorkai and something about War and War really grabbed me and for some reason (apparently about a guy whose suicide plans are interrupted by his randomly discovering an unknown ancient epic and his felt duty to make sure it's preserved? Sounds cool right) I bought everything they had by him (four books). And for some reason I started reading The Melancholy of Resistance instead of that one, a very unhinged and sprawling philosophical novel with no paragraph breaks that was hard-going but compelling, then I lost the book halfway through. Months later I found it again but by then I had gotten too sad about it and it's not the kind of book you can really dip back into after a long absence so like, that was kind of the end of my Krasznahorkai thing. Well I'd like to try again. And I want to start with War and War this time since that was clearly what fate intended in the first place.

The other guy in this category is Knausgaard, who I feel like I don't gotta talk about as much cos everyone has already heard about how great he's supposed to be, I read the first volume of his struggle and yeah it's pretty great. Wanna get to the second vol soon.

I want to start writing in my diary again

I'm a firm believer that every list should contain at least one item that doesn't belong on the list, so: I've proven that keeping a regular daily diary is something I can keep up for at least like a three-month continuous period, I proved it last year. If I can keep it up for three months then I can keep it up forever, right? Three months is a long time, it's like a small forever. And there's a lot of reasons why "a few words per day of record-keeping/minor self-expression that no one gets to look at" is a really useful thing for me to have, but after that initial run got derailed I never managed to get it back for more than brief episodes. Well, I hope it wasn't a fluke and I hope I can find my way back into it this year.

Oh I don't know, maybe my actual fucking list of books I want to read that I actually supposedly have? Hmm what about that? What about that maybe

So I do have a goodreads (Viv I want to be your goodreads friend but last time I looked through my read shelves like a ton of the ratings made no sense to me and I'm just kind of embarrassed by it, I've been planning to start a fresh account for a while, when I get around to that I shall add you; it looks like you went through a similar thing so I trust you understand!), and I do add stuff to the Want to Read list on there occasionally. I never look at this list, so it serves no purpose at all. I'm looking at it now and I don't even know what half this stuff is. Like wtf is South Wind by Norman Douglas, with only 314 ratings? I'm sure I've never seen this book in my entire life. Who is Witold Gombrowicz? I recognize Elias Canetti as the name of a guy who might have slept with Iris Murdoch I think but that doesn't seem like a good reason to want to read him. Yeah this is a completely useless list and I will continue to never look at it. Oh sometimes at work I take photos of books that momentarily catch my interest, and those photos are like, another one of this.

---

Okay that's ten! Hey Viv this was actually a lot of fun thank you for tagging me, I'm not really proofreading it because it's too late so uh, sorry about how it is. Everyone else, obviously I'd enjoy seeing you talk about books if we're mutuals, I hate tagging people but I'll do some anyway: @lloke @medlinka @autogeneity @jerkeline @robustcornhusk @wellmetmat @abodywithorgans, if I didn't mention you you should take it as a calculated insult obviously

#an ask meme #nohopereadio #uninteresting

21 notes · View notes