#national library lovers month

[rockislandadultreads]

National Library Lovers Month: Nonfiction

The Library: A Fragile History by Andrew Pettegree

Famed across the known world, jealously guarded by private collectors, built up over centuries, destroyed in a single day, ornamented with gold leaf and frescoes, or filled with bean bags and children's drawings--the history of the library is rich, varied, and stuffed full of incident. In The Library, historians Andrew Pettegree and Arthur der Weduwen introduce us to the antiquarians and philanthropists who shaped the world's great collections, trace the rise and fall of literary tastes, and reveal the high crimes and misdemeanors committed in pursuit of rare manuscripts. In doing so, they reveal that while collections themselves are fragile, often falling into ruin within a few decades, the idea of the library has been remarkably resilient as each generation makes - and remakes - the institution anew. Beautifully written and deeply researched, The Library is essential reading for booklovers, collectors, and anyone who has ever gotten blissfully lost in the stacks.

The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu by Joshua Hammer

In the 1980s, a young adventurer and collector for a government library, Abdel Kader Haidara, journeyed across the Sahara Desert and along the Niger River, tracking down and salvaging tens of thousands of ancient Islamic and secular manuscripts that had fallen into obscurity. The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu tells the incredible story of how Haidara, a mild-mannered archivist and historian from the legendary city of Timbuktu, later became one of the world’s greatest and most brazen smugglers.

In 2012, thousands of Al Qaeda militants from northwest Africa seized control of most of Mali, including Timbuktu. They imposed Sharia law, chopped off the hands of accused thieves, stoned to death unmarried couples, and threatened to destroy the great manuscripts. As the militants tightened their control over Timbuktu, Haidara organized a dangerous operation to sneak all 350,000 volumes out of the city to the safety of southern Mali.

The Library Book by Susan Orlean

On the morning of April 29, 1986, a fire alarm sounded in the Los Angeles Public Library. As the moments passed, the patrons and staff who had been cleared out of the building realized this was not the usual fire alarm. As one fireman recounted, “Once that first stack got going, it was ‘Goodbye, Charlie.’” The fire was disastrous: it reached 2000 degrees and burned for more than seven hours. By the time it was extinguished, it had consumed four hundred thousand books and damaged seven hundred thousand more. Investigators descended on the scene, but more than thirty years later, the mystery remains: Did someone purposefully set fire to the library - and if so, who?

Weaving her lifelong love of books and reading into an investigation of the fire, award-winning New Yorker reporter and New York Times bestselling author Susan Orlean delivers a mesmerizing and uniquely compelling book that manages to tell the broader story of libraries and librarians in a way that has never been done before.

Library: An Unquiet History by Matthew Battles

Through the ages, libraries have not only accumulated and preserved but also shaped, inspired, and obliterated knowledge. Now they are in crisis. Former rare books librarian and Harvard metaLAB visionary Matthew Battles takes us from Boston to Baghdad, from classical scriptoria to medieval monasteries and on to the Information Age, to explore how libraries are built and how they are destroyed: from the scroll burnings in ancient China to the burning of libraries in Europe and Bosnia to the latest revolutionary upheavals of the digital age. A new afterword elucidates how knowledge is preserved amid the creative destruction of twenty-first-century technology.

[melaninadorned]

😍😍

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Okay but imagine if the Creator's child was Kaveh's.

Out of literally everyone in the world and the creator bags the broke architect 🤭

Que Jessica Rabbit's 'he makes me laugh'.

He still lives with Alhaitham bc the idea of sharing a literal child with the creator but still getting locked out of your apartment is hilarious.

The creator had a the broke architect's child

Creative child

After your child is born with no distinctive features other than his blond hair the first one to know who your lover was is your own child

WC: 900~

To be 100% truthful I only thought about doing this for the iconic physical feature like neuvi, Diluc, etc but this was fun jsjs

“Morning, parental unit” your blond son stands on the door joining your library and the solarium in which you often humored visits.

“Morning, uhm, offspring?” Your hand reaches towards the book shelf without minding him, people said children his age find joy in speaking and behaving weirdly, and yours wasn't an exception, if his giggles meant something. 

“I heard you speaking with mister Diluc about visiting Sumeru”

“It's bad to eavesdrop” softly you chastise him but he pouts and stomps.

“I wanna go! You told me dad lives there, I wanna meet him”

“Shush! I told you that as our secret” you close the book you were skimming over but sigh as you see his yellow eyes “but last month when I told you to come for a festival in Sumeru but you didn't want to go”

“Because aunties Eula and Amber were going to teach me how to skyyyy” he whines the last word, already sensing you wouldn't want to take him there. 

“Bratty child” you groan “fine, if you manage to make up for the 4 days we will not be here with your tutor I will take you” and as you finish talking you hear him slamming the door shut and his bare feet hitting the floor as he runs away.

And, somehow, your usually mischievous child managed to work hard enough to make up for a few absences, or so said his tutor, who you still believed was under the spell of his puppy eyes, just like when he managed to smuggle two cats and a cryo slime.

“Karen, stay close, we have to go to the akademiya to check some paperwork and sit through some meetings” you grab his forearm, dragging him away from the colorful stained glass mobiles and the fluffy beasts carrying spices and fruit.

After a fair bit of bickering with every stand selling something he has never seen you manage to reach the akademiya, even if Karen was almost being dragged. 

Popping your head on the administration room you see a row of desks, a familiar face standing out amongst the sea of brown hair, a long gray hair standing up tall from his scalp.

Alhaitham is lounging in his desk, a book on one hand and a pen on the other, seeing him so calm makes you decide against bothering him and rather to ask one of his coworkers, even if you have to wait for a little bit while they finish transcribing as you chat them up, knowing it could be intimidating to have you stand silently besides them.

“C'mon let's just go to himmm, he looks like he is just lazing arounddd” Karen tugs on the bottom of your tunic but you ignore his little tantrum and keep asking the girl about the date she told you she will have after work.

Seemingly waiting for five minutes was too much of a waste of time that could be used to explore this nation. Sneaking silently behind you he stands before Alhaitham’s desk, but is ignored as he has his noise canceling earbuds and Karen isn't taller than the desk.

“Hey” he says, no answer “Heeeyy” no answer, now ticked off Karen slams his small hands against the thick wood board “HEY! STOP IGNORING ME” 

Alhaitham just peeks his head towards him, not hearing the noise but seeing his hands, but when he looks at him his annoyed look and yellow eyes seem too familiar.

He opens his mouth, eyes half closed as if he was thinking about something. 

Now noticing he was causing the ruckus you drag him by the armpits so he stops hitting the desk, as you start making Karen apologize you see Alhaitham's face. His eyebrows now almost up with his hairline and his green eyes uncharacteristically wide, but quickly he changes into a smirk as Karen apologizes for yelling.

“Please don't tell me it was-”

“Keep reading your book”

“Not my guest's bed~” he teases while grabbing his book, expecting the office to be calm again when the door slams open again, a blond huffing and puffing ready to face his housemate.

“YOU… how come you always grab my keys?! I couldn't enter the house for 2 hours!” to which al haitham tugs a set of keys out of his pockets and dangles three keys and a lion doll.

“Ugh, calm down. Why even wait 2 hours if you already know where I work?”

Under all their yapping you mumble something to your son “that is your dad” and you let a small promise to make both meet if he is busy, but after 5 ish minutes of bickering and the paperwork you needed snug in your hand it's obvious it will be quicker to just end this fight yourself. 

“Kaveh? Oh, hi, it's been so long” one of your hands falls on his shoulder, making him notice your presence “like 4 years ago?” You ask as you feel Karen hug one of your legs.

“oh, yeah, it's been so long” he laughs lightly, feeling suddenly bashful.

“It's a shame I was so busy I was just able to visit Sumeru, someone wanted to meet you” the flat part of your nail rakes through your son's hair.

“Huh?” He just now notices the kid behind you and his bright hair.

“Could you take care of him for a second? I have to finish a meeting and I should be able to meet you two”

“Yep! I will show him around and we can meet at the cafe, in sure we will have a lot to talk about”

Don't dare to run away so fast... Who allowed you to use my house like a motel

Hick!

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader (afab)

genre: dark academia college au. nonidol!hyunjin. enemies to lovers // academic rivals. angst. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. kindaa toxic relationship between hyunjin and reader since they're enemies in uni. ANGST!! reader comes from a poor background and hyunjin is the uni dean's prodigy son. smut warnings below cut!!

word count: 10.6k (enjoy you filthy animals 😈)

summary: ever since you started studying at korean national university of arts in seoul, hwang hyunjin, the other top student of the school and the dean's son, has been an absolute thorn in your ass. although, it turns out that not all thorns are necessarily bad.

18+ warnings: dom!hyunjin x sub!reader. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends). fingering. dirty thoughts/fantasies are mentioned. degradation (whore, slut, bitch, etc). pet names (baby girl, sweetheart, doll face, etc). LOTS of hair pulling. BIG ownership/possession kink. breeding kink!!!. overstimulation. orgasm control. nipple/breast play. lots of dirty talk. subspace. loud sex. manhandling. humiliation kink. exhibitionism (fucking in a public library).

a/n: first of all, i'd just like to give a BIG shoutout to my dear friend @ahactress, for giving me the initial prompt to this about a month ago haha- without your help, I wouldn't be here right now honey!! 🤭💙 also, i'm sending all my love to my beautiful bestie @h0p3l3ssromantic, for encouraging me with her pretty words and her endless love... girl, you RULE and ilysm!!! 😫❤️ I don't know if it's public knowledge around these parts, but my dms on all my sns platforms are ALWAYS open for ya'll to spew your ramblings about my work haha - hmu on twt babes, I'm always down to chat~ ✨

💙 - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

  The moment you saw the dark, heavy clouds swirling low in the sky as you walked to your Survey of Humanities class, you knew that the day was going to be a shitty one. Already, you had woken up with a raging headache from the all-nighter you had pulled the day before to finish all of your homework for the following week. 

 Besides, it was a Monday too, and you fucking hated Mondays. 

 For one thing, the start of the new week always meant being bombarded with loads of assignments from the four classes you were taking. Being a junior with a Liberal Arts major was not as easy as everyone thought it was — and you constantly felt like you could never catch up on all of the homework. 

 With two formal art classes, one on charcoal drawings and the other on watercolor techniques, and then two upperclassman Humanities classes, your schedule was packed with studying time. Sometimes, it was hard to even eat during the day, since you were so busy with your schoolwork. 

 But there was no way around it, no excuses that could be made. 

 You either continued to stay at the top of your classes, as one of the best students in your grade for your graduation year, or you didn’t. 

 Your mother didn’t sacrifice everything she had for you to fail so horribly at university. 

 So you were okay with the stress and deadlines. Because you wanted to make both her and yourself proud. 

 And yeah, maybe you also wanted to prove to your classmates that you could do it. 

 You especially wanted to brag about your success to a certain man… 

 Hwang Hyunjin. 

 He was slated to graduate in your same year and was studying Technical Art. And holy shit— was he an insufferable ass. Unfortunately, since the two of you shared such close majors, you had found yourself in one too many classes with him during your time at the Korean National University of Arts in Seoul. It also didn’t help that he was coined as one of the #1 students in the entire school, and did everything in his power to make everyone aware of this fact. 

 Especially you. 

 If he earned just two points more than you on an exam in the same class that you were taking together, he’d nonchalantly wave the white paper in front of you after the exam period, taunting you with his sly tongue and that cruel grin of his. 

 Most of the time, you managed to ignore his wicked teasing, sticking to yourself and your small group of study buddies. But on the rare occasion that he did get under your skin, you’d snap irrevocably and usually land yourself in the Dean’s office. 

 But of course, Hyunjin was also there because — news flash — he was the son of the fucking Dean of the university. 

 Usually, the meetings after your blowups were casual and spoken in soft voices, with Dean Hwang recounting the school’s long integrity policy to you, which you had already memorized in the back of your head after your third visit to his office. The entire time the Dean reminded you of how your ‘behavior was uncalled for in the situation,’ Hyunjin would be standing in the corner of his father’s office, arms folded across his chest and canting his head to the side as he studied you with a pleased little devilish sneer on his face. 

 After every single one of the meetings, he’d always try to catch up to you outside of his father’s office. This usually landed in you cursing him out under your breath and telling him to fuck off before you retreated into the shadows of one of the many hallways. 

 And as it just so happened, your Survey of Humanities class also had a certain raven-haired man constantly sitting in the farthest seat from the front of the lecture hall. 

 It was almost comical how good-looking he was, coupled with his genius brain. Because as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was incredibly smart… in both the arts and all other forms of academics. He aced every single quiz and exam he was given, got 100s on every technical art research essay he wrote, and was involved in practically every club there was on campus. 

 The girls of your grade fawned all over him, and even the freshmen were weak to his looks whenever he’d pass them in the hallway. He looked right out of an early 2000s fashion magazine, with his model-like physic, long, shaggy black hair that perfectly framed his face and curled at the nape of his neck, not to mention the expensive designer clothes he was always seen in. 

 You had never seen him dress like the other guys of his same age — had never seen him clad in a pair of baggy grey sweatpants and a worn oversized graphic tee. Instead, he rolled up to the curb of the university in his cherry red 2023 Rolls Royce, dressed to the nines in fitted coats, light-washed designer jeans, and crisp white button-downs. 

 Hwang Hyunjin had been the school’s ultimate heartthrob for as long as you could remember, and you had heard rumors of the kind of things he did with his lovers — taking his girlfriends out to expensive restaurants in the heart of the city, before bringing them back to his luxurious apartment and fucking them late into the night. Usually, you tended to ignore the dating and sex part of your arch nemeses' life, and instead just focused on beating him at his own game of academics. 

 And during that early Friday morning in the middle of October, as you strolled through the doors of the lecture hall and your eyes scanned over the students already seated, you caught sight of him.

 Dressed in a casual, brown turtleneck and dark-washed jeans, he looked like he had just walked straight out of an autumn edition of GQ Men. He was seated in his usual place, legs crossed and hands busy scribbling away notes on his iPad. As you floated beside him and towards your seat at the very back of the hall, you caught the scent of him — a mix of earthy musk and dark roasted coffee beans. 

 He didn’t pay you the time of day as you flitted past him and took out your notebooks once you were seated down. Thankfully, he seemed to be choosing the route of ignoring you for the day, much to your relief. 

 Soon, the professor strode into the lecture hall and began the class. For a while, he droned on about the midterm that all of the students had taken the week before, and how he was impressed with the class’ results. “Although, two students in particular outshined everyone else,” he began, his eyes scanning the lecture hall until they landed on Hyunjin seated just two rows before you. “Hyunjin, excellent work — it’s quite rare that I see a student score a 100 on the midterm,” then his focus was floating upward and landing on you. “Y/N, you’re short essay for the midterm was superb, and your choice of art analysis was a very unique one for sure.” 

 Just as the professor was focusing back on the rest of the course material, you could sense someone’s gaze trained on you. Staring forward, you caught a glimpse of him shooting you a snarky grin. You glared daggers into his skull, just wishing that he’d get shot in the foot and keel over in pain at that moment. 

 He always liked to gloat when he got a higher score than you on the tests, and you both knew that he had done better on the test overall — since the professor only mentioned his 100 and not yours. But apparently, your midterm essay was a hell of a lot better than his. 

 Sticking out your tongue at him playfully, you rolled your eyes before folding your arms across your chest and turning your attention back on the slides that the professor was ticking through. Hyunjin got under your skin so much he sometimes felt like a fucking disease — burrowed so deeply inside your veins, it was almost impossible to cut out the hatred. 

 “For this week’s assignment, you guys will be paired up into groups of two to create a joint presentation on the topic of ‘The Descent into Madness,’” As soon as you heard the professor mention splitting the class into groups, you felt your heart leap inside your chest. You only hoped that you wouldn’t be paired up with him. “Using your textbooks as a guideline, I want all of you to choose one specific piece of art from any period you want and conduct deep research into the mad aspects of it — dive into as much detail about the formal elements as you’d like, but make sure to follow the grading rubric and cite all academic sources. I’ve posted the list of paired groups on the bulletin board up here near the projector, so make sure to check it before you leave class today.” 

 You tuned out all other information the professor gave about the week’s assignment, too focused on seeing who you were paired with. As soon as he dismissed class, you were shooting up from your seat and hoisting your heavy tote bag across your shoulder. 

 Flitting down the stairway, you made it to the bulletin board before all of the other students did. They were idling around because no one gave two shits about who they were paired with. No one except for you. 

 “Please, please, please—” You prayed in a whispered tone under your breath as your eyes scanned the matched columns of students. When you came upon your name and saw who was next to it, it felt like the ground at your feet had opened right up and sucked you in entirely. “Fuck my life.” Heart dropping into the pit of your stomach, your palm squeezed a little tighter around the strap of your bag. 

 “Oh shit— looks like the professor decided to give you a fighting chance by pairing you up with the best student in the entire school.” You heard Hyunjin’s silky voice say from somewhere behind you. 

 Swinging around on your heels, you caught a glimpse of his sardonic, wide smirk, as his eyes scanned the look of sheer anger on your face. Giving a dry, humorless chuckle, he shoved his hands into his pockets and canted his head to the side in a quizzical kind of way. 

 “We’re only going to ace this project because of me— and let’s be clear here, I’m the better writer out of the two of us.” You said in a low voice, pointing an accusing finger at him in utter disgust. You could feel your brows pulling together from the rage that was building up inside of you. And all from the thought of being forced to work with him. 

 “Yeah, but I’m the better test taker.” 

 “Fuck you.” 

 Hyunjin chuckled wickedly, the tip of his blush pink tongue coming out and wetting a corner of his plush bottom lip. “Oh honey, I’m sure you wish you could.” 

 Already, you could tell that he was egging you on. Trying to get your goad so that you’d explode and be dragged to the Dean’s office. So that he could stare down at you with that same smug look on his face as his precious little daddy rattled off the university’s code of conduct. 

 Well fuck that bullshit. 

 Seeing too much red, you decided to excuse yourself from the equation before you said something horrible that got you sent into the Dean’s office again or even worse — kicked from the class. 

 “I’ll see you on Monday night at ten in the library,” you said in finality, squinting your eyes up at him and just wishing you could wring your hands around his perfect little neck. “Don’t be late.” 

 “I don’t take orders from you, sweetheart.” 

 “For now you sure fucking do.” 

 Then you were turning around and pushing out of the lecture hall, practically running down the corridor as fast as you could, heart pounding in your chest because… what the hell were you going to do? 

 That entire weekend leading up to the Monday night that you planned to spend with Hyunjin, you just about lost your mind over the worry of it all. Would he continue to be an asshole to you the entire time? Would he work well with you and compromise on things? How would everything go? 

 You were so stressed about the entire thing that you practically drove your roommate Felix insane with annoyance. Late Sunday morning, when you were making circles around your living room couch as you stressed about everything, he finally burst out in a loud outcry. 

  “Y/N! You seriously need to take a chill pill, you’re going to run holes right into the fucking carpet!” He said in an exasperated tone, muting the show that he was watching on the large flatscreen TV. 

 Peering up at him with wide, guilty eyes, you offered him a meek smile. “I’m sorry, Lix— it’s just… you know how much I hate Hyunjin and I—” 

 Felix rolled his eyes at you, completely fed up with your bullshit at that moment. “Yes, yes, I know. You’ve told me about a million times at this point. But like… don’t let it get to you, yeah? Just go out there and do your very best,” his eyes flitted back to the TV as he un-muted his show. “I mean… how bad could working with Hwang Hyunjin really be? Besides you, he’s one of the top students in the entire school.” 

 But he didn’t know Hyunjin like you did. 

 No one did. 

 They didn’t see the cruel side to him, the mean side. 

 They didn’t hear the words he’d mumble to you with venom after a big test or the taunting he’d throw your way if you one-upped him in some way. 

 Others didn’t see the dark looks he’d give you after classes or the way he’d practically talk behind your back each time you passed him in the hallway — whispering to his groupies and making all the guys chuckle heartily. 

 So yeah, working with him was a pretty fucking big deal. 

 Nonetheless, you took Felix’s advice and tried to relax as much as you could before the start of the new week. You studied the material that you wanted to research for the project, deciding to focus on Hamlet’s Ophelia for your analysis. 

 And if Hyunjin didn’t want to go with that character, well… too bad.

 By the time Monday night rolled around, you felt more prepared than ever before and stepped into the Library’s main doors with settled ease. The university’s library was your favorite place on campus and had been the location for many of your long night study sessions over your time in school. With its dark gothic architecture outside and its sweeping gables, it was a true sight to behold. Not to mention the cozy atmosphere of the interior — all of the cozy nooks and crannies of the place, filled with warm candlelight and large chandeliers and settees made everything feel so mysterious and relaxing. 

 You strode through the isles filled with books, noticing how it was almost empty of any other student. That’s why you liked coming to the place late at night because it was relatively devoid of life and incredibly quiet. And you liked the quiet — it made it easy for you to focus on your studies. Finally, you stumbled upon a spacious table tucked into the very corner of one part of the place on the upper floor, with a large bay window just in front of the wooden table. 

 With a glance outside the pane, you noticed how the darkening sky had opened up to reveal a sheet of heavy rain — it pelted down on the few students that were passing by the outside of the library on the sidewalk there, as they ran for cover. Methodically, you brought out your supplies — booting up your laptop and positioning your notebook and pens just so. 

 Checking your phone, the screen flashed that it was fifteen minutes past ten o’clock already. Was he not even planning on showing up? Was he going to completely bail on you and instead take you down by sabotaging the entire thing? 

As you sat down in one of the cushiony, velvet-lined chairs, your mind began to race with all of the possibilities of what Hyunjin might be stewing up to take you down. 

 Then, almost like your thoughts had summoned him, you heard footsteps at your back and turned to see Hyunjin rounding the corner of the tall bookshelves that were lined on either side of your chosen table. With one glance at him, you noticed the soaked-through fabric of his tan coat and the way his dark hair curled around the nape of his neck with moisture. He must’ve gotten caught in the rain and that’s why he was late. 

 “I thought you were going to bail on me entirely.” 

 Giving you a swarthy look, he plopped down into the seat just across from you and threw his heavy book bag atop the table. “Good evening to you as well.” He grumbled, slipping off his coat and showcasing the wetness hidden just underneath there. His light, cream-colored button-down was almost sheer from the rainwater… highlighting his muscular shoulder blades and the tips of his pecks. 

 “Didn’t you know it was supposed to rain heavily tonight?” 

 Not even paying you another glance, he focused on pulling out his supplies. “I’m not the fucking weatherman, I don’t regularly check up on shit like that.” 

 “Well, you should— maybe you wouldn’t ruin so many of your precious, rich boy clothes if you did.” 

 At that, his hands stopped moving and he stared up at you with slitted eyes. Giving your own choice of outfit a long once over, the corner of his mouth ticked up. “Well damn— are you jealous or something?” You weren’t particularly dressed up, opting for a comfortable pair of black sweatpants and a warm violet turtleneck top.

 “Let’s just focus on getting to work.” You shot back, hands typing away at your computer keyboard. “Did you figure out a piece you want to analyze?” 

 “Yeah, Hamlet’s Ophelia.” 

 His words were silky and smooth against your ears, but his answer is what got you shooting your gaze up to his again. Mouth dropping open a little bit in surprise, you cleared your throat from the sudden quietness between you. “Oh— uhm, I was thinking the same,” you began, opening up the Word document that you had already started working on that past weekend. “It would probably be a good idea to study Hamlet’s character too since he's the catalyst of her problems.” 

 “No, he isn’t. She already had them to begin with — he just heightened their outcome.” 

 You were so taken aback by his comment, that it took a few seconds for your brain to process everything. But when it finally clicked, you were gaping up at him in astonishment. “I’m sorry, what? You’re going to blame her for the fact that Hamlet was the sole cause of it all?” Your voice was steadily rising, as you began to get irritated by his suggestion. 

 Hyunjin shrugged nonchalantly, as he scribbled down a few things in his notebook. “I mean, yeah. She already had a history of mental disorders, her death was bound to happen anyway.” He matched your tone, words growing louder and ringing out across the small expanse of the library that the two of you were in. 

 “I seriously cannot believe you right now.” You began, shaking your head in anger as you tried to focus on your bright computer screen again. But his argument just rubbed you the wrong way entirely, and you found yourself speaking up again. “I didn’t realize how much of a fucking misogynist you were. But oh, wait— it’s perfectly clear now if the way you treat me is anything to go off of.”

 “I’m not a misogynist, Y/N.” The way his tone curled around the sound of your name did something funny to the depths of your soul. He had never called your name outright like that, never addressed you head-on. And it was both weird and oddly satisfying. “All I’m saying is that her descent into madness was pretty warranted since she was in an already heightened state of emotions.” 

 You gave him a deep glare, tilting your head to the side in annoyance. “Just say you hate women, it’s okay, Hyunjin. I won’t bug you about it.” 

 “Like hell, you won’t.” He mumbled under his breath, long fingers typing out something on his computer. 

 And that was enough to completely set you off. 

 There were no other students around, no professors to tell you off, and no Deans to harp on you about correct student conduct. 

 “Seriously, what the hell is your problem?! You’re so fucking annoying and a total piece of shit. I honestly have no idea how you’re at the top of the school when all you do is belittle others!” This time, you were shouting outright. Throwing him an ominous glare and shutting your computer with a resounding thud. 

 Hyunjin leaned back in his seat, lengthy arms folded across his chest as the rain pelted against the misty window just at his back. “Oh, and like you’re any better? You always love to shove your accomplishments in everyone else’s faces— you ever stop to think how that makes others feel?” He was yelling now too, stroking a hand through his long locks that were steadily dripping with tiny droplets of rainwater. 

 Shaking your head in disappointment, you took in a resounding deep breath. “I knew this was a bad idea. I knew you’d be an asshole the entire time and I knew we wouldn’t get any work done,” as you said the words, you were already gathering up your things, shoving them into your bag, and leveling him with a cold stare. “So let’s just forget it - this - okay? Just… work on it by yourself and then we can compile our info together the day of and—” 

 “Sit down, Y/N.” 

 The way his command slipped out from between his lips in a low, gravelly voice shook something loose deep within your very being. For a moment, you almost felt compelled to listen to him. Like under a mystical enchantment, your limbs wanted to move on their own accord and seat yourself down again. But the rational part of your brain overtook all other thoughts as you stood your ground and hovered just next to the table. 

 “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not your daddy— you don’t have the authority of the Dean.” 

 For the last few moments, he hadn’t been looking at you, eyes instead trained on his computer still. Almost like, the entire ordeal didn’t bother him that much. Like you were a minor inconvenience to him in the grand scheme of his rich, privileged life. 

 But all at once, he was tipping his head towards the high rafters of the library’s ceiling, stare catching with yours. The stormy look you saw there, dancing around in his brown irises, forced your heart to leap in the pit of your throat. 

 “Don’t make me say it again.” 

 “I’m never going to listen to you, so tough luck, fucker.”

 Taking in a deep breath, his entire body shuddering with the motion, he held your gaze and motioned with a tilt of his head to the seat in front of him that you had just gotten up from. “Sit. Down.” 

 And like a single crack suddenly appearing in a delicate vase, your mind was losing all conscious thought and you were moving without any other thought. His seething, low tone overtook your entire system, his focus on you sending a shock of shivers up the length of your spine again and again, unrelenting. 

 “What?” You asked, noticing the surprised expression on his face from the way that you had fucking listened to him once, seated in your chair again. “I was tired of hearing your stupid demands.” 

 Hyunjin flipped through a few pieces of paper in his notebook before he pushed it your way. “Give that a look over, it’s the notes I took on Ophelia over the weekend.” The idea of him studying for the project just like you had done forced your mind to run rampant with all kinds of thoughts. Like, was he also stressing out about the meeting like you had been doing?

 “I already told you— we’re not working together.” 

 “For Christ’s sake, just give it up!” Hyunjin exclaimed in a loud voice, throwing his hands up into the air in mock defeat. “You act like this is the deciding project of our grade— it’s a fucking weekly assignment. All we have to do is our best, which will be pretty damn good if we’re both working on it.” 

 “So then you admit that I’m a good student.” You raised an eyebrow his way, fingers slowly taking ahold of his notebook and playing with the edges of the paper.

 Taking in a deep sigh, he pointed at the notebook in front of you. “Just focus— okay? I want to get as much work done as possible tonight.” 

 “Fine, but don’t blame me if we get a bad grade because we rush it.” You said, finally raising the white flag of surrender and taking in the contents of his notebook. The notes were detailed and insanely good, highlighting certain formal aspects of Ophelia’s character and the overarching themes of her madness. “Wow— this is… really good.” You said in a quiet voice, almost hoping that he wouldn’t hear it. 

 Rummaging through your nearby bag, you pulled out a pink highlighter to take some notes, and your chosen lollipop for the night, mango flavored. You liked to reward yourself with a fun treat of candy whenever you did late-night studying sessions since the sugar kept your energy levels high and helped to keep you focused. Ever since you were a little girl, you seemed to concentrate better when your mind wasn’t entirely on the content you were studying. 

 “I mean, I’m not coined as one of the school’s top students for nothing,” Hyunjin remarked in a sarcastic tone. You chose to ignore his comment and instead focus on his neat handwriting and the way his words fit in perfectly to the columns of the notebook paper. 

 Everything about him was perfect — from his looks to his academic success to his damn handwriting. Hell, what wasn’t he good at? 

 For one thing, being a nice fucking person. 

 And he seemingly couldn’t grasp the idea of how not to be an asshole to people he didn’t like.

 Unfortunately, you were categorized in his list of people that he hated. 

 As you flipped to the next page in his notebook, your tongue swirled around the lollipop in your mouth. The sugary sweetness of the artificial mango flavor coated your tongue deliciously, and it awakened all of your senses in the best way possible. The minutes seemed to tick by, as you began to make notes based on Hyunjin’s research from his notebook, turning away from the paper and typing into the Word document that you had started for the project.

 Faintly, in the back of your mind, you could hear Hyunjin’s soft inhales and exhales, as he focused on his research. All else was quiet in the library, what with it being completely void of life on a Monday at eleven at night. You could distinctly pick out the sounds of rainfall pitter-pattering just outside the large window behind Hyunjin’s seat, as the night drew on in a heavy mist of dew and moisture. 

 “Why do you hate me so much?” 

 Hyunjin’s words were faint and broke you out of your daze of thought. You had been frantically writing down some of your critiques about Ophelia as a character, and your head shot up from your computer to catch a glimpse of him staring back at you. 

 You didn’t know how long he had been like that, sitting back in his chair, long, raven hair a wavy mess around his face and eyes a little bleary from a mixture of sheer exhaustion and that… darkness that you could never quite pinpoint. You had only ever seen him direct such swarthy looks at you, and that fact disheartened you a lot.

 “I think the real question you should be asking is what’s not to hate about you.” You deadpanned, giving him a deep frown as you poked your lollipop into the corner of one of your cheeks, tucking it away for the moment. 

 Folding his arms across his chest in that abrasive way that he always did around you, he tilted his head to the side with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, spill the tea.” 

 Taking in a deep breath to stave off your rising nerves and irritation with the man before you, you carded a few fingers through your hair. “To start with, you’re a complete and total asshole.” 

 “I think we’ve already touched on this point by now.” 

 His retort left you to stare daggers into his eyes, wishing someone would just come up behind him and slit his throat because you sure did want to at that moment. But you also supposed that the Dean of the university wouldn’t take a liking to you murdering his son. 

 “Secondly, you’re always stuck up and hard-headed and annoying and… and immature.” 

 Hyunjin blew out a deep, long whisper. “Damn, spare my ego some, will ya?” 

 But you weren’t planning on stopping anytime soon. He had started the engine of the train, and now you were rolling down the tracks of sheer rising anger and all of the pent-up rage that you had felt towards him for the past three years. “And you’re right okay? I am fucking jealous. I’m so jealous of you that I can’t breathe sometimes— you haven’t had to work a day in your life for your position, yet I’ve had to scrape by on my hands and knees, clawing— begging at life to grant me just one fucking break.” You weren't even yelling. Instead, the words just come out hushed and all too grave. 

 Like, if anyone else but him heard them, you’d crumble into a pile of ash and disintegrate into thin air, never to be seen again. Because it was fucking embarrassing, to be so affected by him still, even after all of these years. 

 He stayed silent, watching as you flayed your hands around in the air in your exasperation. You were fed up with your life and the hold that he had over it. You were finally at your breaking point and you had had enough. 

 And you think that at that moment, he had also seen and acknowledged that, staying silent to let all of the words spew out of you like an erupting volcano that had been bound to blow from the very start. 

 “But you? You get everything handed to you on a pretty, silver platter because your daddy is wealthy and you're drop-dead gorgeous and practically have the brain of a neuroscientist. Meanwhile, I was raised by a poor single mother in the slums of Seoul and the only way I got into this university in the first place is because I busted my ass throughout middle and high school to earn the top student’s place,” you pointed a finger between the two of you. Almost like, the tip of it was sharp enough, you could cut right through him. Blade tearing through sinew and flesh and bones. “And then you dare to come around these parts, acting like you own everything, trying to put me in my place. When in reality, you’re the one that needs to be put in your place. Someone needs to knock you down a few pegs, and I’ve always thought… why not me?” 

 For a moment, nothing else happens after that. 

 And irrationally, you’re suddenly afraid of him. 

 Of what he might do — what he might say and to whom — with this newfound information about you. 

 Hardly anyone at school knew about your personal life and struggles. You tended to stay to yourself and instead focus on your studies instead of going out to late-night parties or hitting up the local clubs. And you were an extremely private person, to begin with. You saw no point in pouring out your life's sob story to people you would never see again after four years. 

 But all at once, you wondered if Hwang Hyunjin was a dangerous man. 

 If he was someone who would use your personal information against you. 

 And if the last three years were anything to go off of, you wouldn’t put it past him. 

 “Fuck— I shouldn’t have said all of that,” you grumbled, jamming your fingers into your eye sockets and scrubbing at your lids. “Just… forget all of this, yeah? Forget I said anything.” Then you were standing up from your seat for the second time that night, heart leaping in the pit of your chest as you once again gathered your things into your bag. “It’s late anyways. I should head home and keep studying for my other classes. We can meet up some other time for this, it’s not due til, what… Sunday? That gives us plenty of—”

 “Y/N.” Just like before, the sound of your name on his tongue caused you to pause entirely, limbs halting their movement of shoving your computer into your bag. “Just— shut up, yeah?” His voice came out softer than you expected it would, forcing a shiver down the length of your spine. 

 “Don’t call me that.” 

 “Don’t call you what?” 

 “Y/N.” 

 “Why, because it makes you feel things?” He asked in a gravelly voice. You were avoiding even looking at him at that moment, hands a little shaky as you anxiously started to suck on your lollipop again, rolling it around in the corner of your cheek. “What are you so afraid of?” 

 “You, okay?! It’s always been you!” Your outburst was a lot louder than you expected it to be, ringing across the space between you and echoing in the far distance of the library’s upper-level floor. 

 A beat of silence lapsed between the two of you, and you trained your gaze on a corner of the room, studying the small dust bunny that stood there, completely still and lifeless. In that moment, you could relate to it quite a bit. Lost and confused. Wanting to move away, but not being able to for some weird reason. 

 Hyunjin’s old wooden settee creaked in the silence, as he shifted in his position. “To be honest, I’m scared of you too.” And just like that, your head was snapping his way and your eyes were widening in surprise. “For one, I’m scared of that stupid thing.” With his dark eyes, he motioned towards your mouth. To the lollipop that you were dutifully sucking on, in and out, in and out. You stopped altogether when you realized why he had been so quiet during your studying session. He hadn’t been studying — he had been focusing on you, on the candy in your mouth. Feeling self-conscious about it, you took it out of your mouth and laid it down on the table. “And I’m scared of how you make me feel— crazed out of my mind, all of the time. Like a sick fucking plague, you inhabit my everything… from the moment I wake to the moment I ease, you’re all I can think about, all I can dream about. And I hate it so fucking much that it kills me a little bit more every single day.” 

 “Hyunjin, I—”

 His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his skull, head tipping back in delight as his lips parted just slightly. “Yes— fuck, say it again.” 

 “Say… what?” 

 “You know.” 

 Heart leaping wildly in your throat, and broken butterflies waning in the depths of your stomach, your mouth was moving on its own accord. “Hyunjin.” 

 Like a trigger being pulled back from a gun and flitting the weapon into action, the bullet was shot across the distance between the two of you. And the bullet was your words — you calling out his name. 

 In an instant, he was a flurry of motion before you. All designer clothes soaked from rainwater and long, wavy hair that still had droplets of water at the tips. He was a flash of milky skin hidden underneath a sheer, wet button-down. The faint, waning moonlight shining through the window pane cast an ominous, angelic-like halo around his tall, built frame. 

 And by the time you could breathe again, he had you exactly where he wanted you. Pinned up against the nearest tall bookshelf that reached up into the height of the library's ceiling. One strong hand pinning your two hands against the wood above your head, while the other was positioned just unearth your chin, holding your jaw bone and stroking the flesh there with a gentle thumb. 

 “Now tell me you feel nothing at all, tell me you fucking hate me with your entire being, that you’ll always hate me, and that you think I’m a deprived cunt who needs to be murdered ruthlessly in front of everyone I love.” His words were hushed, their meaning brutal. His face was so close to yours, that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. Leaning into you, he drove his middle a little closer to the part of your legs. 

 Breath catching painfully between your windpipes and the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with blurry vision. Your attention was growing fuzzy at the edges, as you could do nothing more but hone in on… him. Subconsciously, you could feel the mango sweetness of your lollipop coating your tongue again and again as you swallowed. 

 “I—I hate you so fucking much, Hwang Hyunjin.” 

 He pressed into you a little further, breathing in your scent and closing his eyes as his head tipped close to one part of your neck. Mouth hovering over the shell of your ear, he whispered, “Say it again, sweetheart, with a little more passion this time.” 

 “I… I hate you so much, I can’t function with the thought of you existing in the same lifetime as me.” 

 You felt him moving against you then, hand moving away from your jaw and coming around one of your hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your black sweatpants. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, sweetheart…” He started, mouth hovering over that space just behind your ear, warm breath fanning against your exposed gooseflesh there. “I won’t hurt you— it was never my intention in the first place. It was… just a fun game to me, to toy around with you. But I never wanted to actually fucking hurt you.” 

 You could feel your mind and heart racing in tandem, going a mile a minute, as you took in all of his words. Because what, the actual fuck? What was he saying? And why was he saying it? And why did you feel yourself crumbling from it all, your resolve breaking down into dust and getting whisked away to the future of Neverland? 

 “I never meant to make you cry,” He said slowly, pulling away from your face just a tiny bit to gauge your reaction to his confession. You gaped up at him, completely speechless in your unadulterated wonder. “Sure, I wanted to make you cry— but not in the cruel kind of way… not in the way that most people would like to do.”

 His insinuation, his innuendo there, jumbled something around deep inside of your spirit. And you could practically feel your knees buckling underneath you from the reality of it all. From the fact that he was never truly set out to cause you permanent damage. And so far, he hadn’t. All he had done was make an ass out of himself and be a continual thorn in your side. But he wasn’t necessarily entirely cruel, and you never truly suspected that he’d do something catastrophically damaging. 

 “But all you have to do is tell me— tell me you never thought about me or dreamed about me or wondered about me, and I’ll be gone forever. You’ll never hear, or see me again. It’ll be like I never existed in the first place and I—”

 “I can’t fathom a life without you in it,” you suddenly blurted out, already feeling the hint of crimson blooming beneath your cheeks and at the tip of your nose. You peered up at him, staring into those depthless, chocolate-brown eyes, reading the dancing emotions there. “Sure, I might despise your guts at times, but… I also think you’re a pretty amazing guy. And… I have to admit that sometimes, I do think about you when I’m alone, at night, and laying in my bed.” 

 His hand clutched a little tighter at your hip then, his fingers intertwining with yours and continuing to hoist your arms up and above your head. “Oh yeah? What do you imagine when you think about me so late into the night?” He rasped out, the sound of his voice grating against your ears and sending flames to burst across the entirety of your veins. 

 “Your face, mostly— how your lips would feel and how you’d taste and what you’d sound like if—”

 After that, you didn’t even get the chance to finish your sentence. 

 He was honing in on you like a vulture to its prey, moving with such swiftness — like a phantom in the night, like a monster hidden underneath the bed, like a selkie in the depths of the ocean. 

 As it turns you, your dreams about him were accurate. 

 Because his plush lips did feel like pure heaven. 

 They pushed against yours, his mouth fitting atop yours like something that was carved into the universe — something that was almost meant to be. He was devouring you whole — heart and mind and soul and body. 

 And with each press of his silky lips, you fell down the hole of darkness and heat just a little bit more. Then the tip of his tongue was poking out and tracing the line of your mouth and you fell into him, fingers clawing at his that still had your arms held up high above your head, desperately searching for purchase as your legs threatened to give out underneath you. 

 When his tongue plowed into the small part between your lips, you let out a breathless moan. The kind that had been hidden deep, buried, and un-satiated for so fucking long. By the time he was tasting you, his hands had released your arms and you were scrambling for something to hold. Desperately, in your haste of arousal and temptation, you were clutching at the cool, wet fabric of his cream-colored button-down, holding on for dear life as his hands tightened around your waist and hoisted you up against the bookshelf further. 

 Your spine crammed into the wooden shelves there, as you wrapped your legs around his torso, yanking him closer with each passioned kiss that he gave you. Again and again, he drew those same, sinful sounds out of you. Just like all of the times before, he was playing a sick kind of game with you. But this time, it wasn’t all that bad. This time, you were quite enjoying yourself. 

 As your parted legs held his hips close to your frame, you could feel the hardness there, in the center of him. Just aching to be released. And suddenly, you came to terms with the fact that the wetness between your legs was rapidly growing with each kiss that he gave you. 

 He sucked on your lips like they were his lifeline — and you wondered, in that moment, how he’d treat the rest of you — how much attention he’d offer the rest of your body. 

 “J-Jin, I—” The shortened nickname slipped out between your lips when the two of you parted to catch your breaths. And when you noticed his swollen mouth, you were almost positive that yours looked just as bad, if not worse. 

 “What, baby doll?” He hummed, mouth moving away from yours entirely and coming close to the line of your jaw. You blushed wildly at the pet name, liking the way it sounded in his silky voice. He moved aside the thick fabric of your violet-colored knit turtleneck with his nose, lips attaching to the skin of your neck and suckling like a vampire drunken on the crimson of his lover. “What is it that you need right now?” 

 Your hands were scrambling for him, finding purchase in his dark roots and pulling just a tad bit there. The abuse to his scalp made him hiss out, warm breath painting across the heated flesh of the column of your neck brilliantly. “N—Need you t—to—” But your words were cut short by the way one of his hands was moving away from your waist, traveling under the hemline of your sweater, a long, nimble finger dancing across your belly button and rising to the center of your stomach. 

 “You need me, hmm?” He mused lowly, mouth having journeyed down to the skin closest to your clavicle, leaving violet-hued marks that would surely survive into the next few days. “Need me to fuck you, right? Need me to take you so irrevocably well right here and right now… can’t wait any longer, yeah?” As he spoke the words into existence, his naughty hand was already finding its way toward the lace of your bralette, skirting across its edges. Then, a single finger dipped underneath the elastic there, skirting up the length of your breast until it was resting against your pebbled nub. “Such a naughty little thing… who knew that the university’s prodigy just needed a good fucking, huh? That all she wanted was to get fucked open against the library bookshelves.” 

 You were gasping out in pure bliss, fingers digging in a little harder into his long wisps of hair as his hands began to explore your chest. Brushing, twisting, pulling. Then doing it all over again with the other mound. “Y—Yeah,” you managed to spit out, trembling underneath him, legs wounding tighter around his waist, bringing him ever closer. “Can you do that… fuck me? I need it so bad right now, I can’t handle it if you just leave me like this…” You were practically begging out the words, so desperate in your pleas that you were almost certain your groveling was boosting his already inflated ego. 

 “I only fuck good girls. Girls who don’t call me an asshole and don’t say they hate me.” 

 At that, your eyes were tearing open in a mix of surprise and despair. But the way that his hand didn’t stop touching your breasts, still playing with them, told you everything you needed to know at that moment. 

 You wiggled your hips slowly, grinding into the hardness between his dark-washed jeans. “Stop touching me then— stop kissing me and stop looking at me,” you began, taunting him with your movements and the way that you spoke in a velvety tone, all soft and delicate and innocent. When what the two of you were doing was anything but innocent. “But you can’t, right? Can’t get the thought of me out of your head— of what this pussy would feel like clenched around your cock, squeezing you for dear life as you fuck into me for the hundredth time in a single day—” 

 He was cutting off your words with his quick hands, shedding off your sweater and bralette in one go. Then he was bending down slowly, hands coming up to cup your chest. He stared up at you from his crouched position, watching the feelings rove across your face as he blew hot hair against one of your nipples. 

 “Just fucking shut up already bitch,” he said in a low grumble, as his hand came over your tit, mouth melding onto the warm skin there effortlessly. His other hand was busy playing with your neglected breast, squeezing there a little bit harder when his teeth grazed one of your nipples, tongue lapping at the bud. “You’re only to speak when spoken to, you understand me?” He asked, pulling away from your breast and making a crude, wet sucking noise as he did so.

 Glaring down at him through lust-filled eyes, you sneered his way. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, asshole.” Hands gripping onto his hair a little bit, you pushed his face closer to your chest as he began to work on your other breast, leaving a ring of wetness as he went. “And don’t call me bitch.”

 You could feel him smirk against your skin, his low chuckle vibrating against your gooseflesh and sending ripples of energy to course through your veins. “Mhm— why not? Your pussy sure seems to love the name.” He mused sadistically, completely unlatching from your breast, hands finding their way back at your hips. 

 “What are you even talk—”

 But he didn’t leave any more room for questions, one hand ripping away from your waist and covering your covered centre. “This, right here,” he said in a low whisper, fingers cupping your warmth there, and you could practically feel the essence dripping out of you, just behind your thin panties and sweatpants. “Bet you’ll get even more soaked when I call you it again.”

 “You know nothing about me.” The words came out garbled and wobbly, as he maneuvered your sweatpants down and off of your legs entirely. “Y—You don’t know my body.” 

 He threw you a sardonic kind of smile, leaning into the side of you, lips caressing the shell of your ear as he spoke in soft tones. “Yeah, but I’ve done a hell of a lot of observing over the years…” At his words, you could feel his hand nearing your middle again, and you involuntarily parted your legs in want. 

 When his fingers came in contact with the lace of your panties, you had to pull out your biggest bout of self-control to hold in the moan that wanted to escape from you. His movements were expert level, as he pushed the fabric off to the side, running a single finger up your lips, feeling for that small spot at the very top. Circling his thumb around there, his other fingers worked at your entrance, and before you knew it, he was pressing two long digits into you. 

 “F—Fuck—“ You groaned at the feeling of it all, falling into him and clawing at his shoulders that were still covered in that damp button-up shirt. “Hyunjin.” You were moaning out his name before you even realized it, hips jutting up slowly against his hand, your head getting thrown back as his fingers searched and found that warm, gooey spot deep inside of you. 

 “See? I know exactly what the fuck I’m doing,” he muttered, lips coming around the side of your neck and suckling violet marks into the skin there. “So be a good bitch and shut up for me, yeah? Take it like a good girl— like the good whore that I know you are.” 

 You couldn’t even protest against him using the name again, because, in all honesty, you did like it. It felt dirty and wrong but so very fucking right at the same time. It caused your walls to spasm against the three fingers he had stuck inside of you, as he pumped in and out with a rabid kind of pace. The sound of his movements forced shivers down the length of your spine, as his thumb pressed into your clit a little more. 

 “Y—You gotta fuck me now, Jin—” You mumbled, already reaching the edge of orgasm from the way that he was steadily working you up with his hand alone. Half of his fingers were buried deep inside of you and the others were desperately clutching at your hip bone to bring you closer to him. The sounds he was pulling from you, both wetness and moans of pleasure, were other-worldly. “N—Need to feel your cock inside of me, right fucking now.” 

 In your daze of lust, you found yourself clasping at the buttons of his shirt, quickly undoing them and sliding his damp shirt off of his frame. What lay underneath was a chiseled chest — a muscular abdomen, biceps that rippled with each breath he took, and a dark trail that led towards his dick. You ran your fingers down the milky expanse of his chest, marveling at how soft and chiseled everything felt. 

 Sighing out quietly, you stared up at him with pleading eyes. “You’re so fucking hot… always knew you would be.” That made Hyunjin smirk with satisfaction, as he tipped into you for a breathless kiss. 

 While his lips captured your own, you could feel his hands working at your panties, sliding them off your legs and leaving you completely bare. Then you heard the clanking noise of a belt coming undone, as he unmistakably rid himself of his pants and boxers. 

 Then he was parting from your mouth, focus turned down to where the centers of your bodies met together. Your mouth fell open at the sight of… him. All seven-and-a-half inches, long shaft curving upward in arousal and precum leaking out of the pretty red tip. A single vein ran down the side, bulging from his unchecked want.

 “Need you to be nice and loud for me, yeah?” He growled in that low tone of his, as he guided himself near your entrance. “Let the entire school know who you belong to— scream my name, bitch, and tell everyone who fucking owns you.” 

 His words jumbled around inside of your mind, making you feel lightheaded as he slowly began to slide into you. You widened your legs a little bit for him, wrapping them around his waist as he quickly bottomed out. The stretch was only slight and left you hissing with relief when he was fit into you at the hilt.

 Without any warning, he was sliding out almost completely, before thrusting back in, hitting into you so roughly, that your spine jammed into the wooden bookshelf at your back. And just like that, he was setting a hellish pace. One that was sure to make you crumble before him — fall apart at the seams. 

 “Mhm— fuck!” You screamed out in a guttural voice, throwing your head back against the bookshelf desperately as his hips snapped against yours feverishly. You were gripping onto his shoulders so hard, running your nails down his back, that you were sure you’d leave red marks later. “Holy shit- feels so good!”

 One of Hyunjin’s hands traveled away from your waist, long, nimble fingers digging into your scalp, yanking at the hair there. “Louder, bitch— take it all like the filthy slut that you are.” He shouted, voice coming out raspy as he pounded into you roughly. 

 In the very back of your mind, you distinctly heard the pitter-patter of rainfall against the nearby windowpane mixing in with the sounds of the two of you  — skin slapping against skin and wetness squelching. It was straight out of a porno and made your head swim with so many dirty thoughts. Breath catching in the center of your throat, you found your lips opening up and releasing a blood-curdling cry of pleasure. 

 Your noises of ecstasy seemed to compel Hyunjin forward with drive, as he rutted into you in a manic kind of way, thumb tracing figure-eight symbols into your inflamed clit. Almost like, if he didn’t get it out of his system, he’d never be able to live afterward — wouldn’t be able to breathe or think or speak. The tip of him hit up into that warm spot inside of you, and you clenched a little harder around this throbbing cock every time he teased you right there. 

 “Fuck— I can’t… I’m gonna…” You groaned out loudly. Your eyes flittered into the back of your skull from the way that he pulled at your hair at the same time that he fucked up into you. 

 Hyunjin grunted out lowly, hips snapping against yours with each thrust. “J—Just a little��farther, doll face…” From the way that his domineering tone was slipping away, you could tell that he was also creeping near the edge of release. 

 You could feel the slip and slide between your legs, your essence coating every surface of your inner thighs and making everything feel silky and smooth. The intensity of his movements slowed down somewhat, the frenzy of his rocking leveling out as he chased your guys’ highs. 

 “Yes… right there!” You mewled out breathlessly just as the tip of him hit so far into you, that entire galaxies were cast against the expanse of your closed eyes. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire — the flush creeping down the column of your purple-marked neck and into the depths of your soul as he continued to circle your bundle of nerves. 

 Walls clenching around his cock that was buried deep inside of your warmth, you could feel the moment Hyunjin found that blissful space of his release. “I’m gonna come— fuck—” He rasped out, his voice on the quiet side as he lost all semblance of control. 

Hips stuttering against yours, he made to pull out of you completely. But you found yourself shaking your head, eyes shooting open, and giving him a serious frown. “N—No… want you to… come inside…” Your head was empty of all thoughts, as you could do nothing more but focus on the way that he felt so close to you - so far deep inside. 

 At that, Hyunjin was offering you a tiny, satisfied grin. Then he was seizing up inside of you, cock stretching against your walls as he met his high. It overtook his entire system, overruling all other obstacles and forcing his head backward in pure, orgasmic bliss. The prettiest sounds fell from his plump, crimson, kiss-swollen lips, as he let himself slip down the cliff with ease. 

 The feeling of his release painting your walls in warm whiteness caused your entire body to convulse with pleasure, as you finally found your high. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before… perfect and whole and so fucking hot. Bursts of rose and topaz and turquoise splashed across the inner workings of your mind, as your insides fluttered around Hyunjin’s cock that fit perfectly between your legs. 

 “Holy shit, that was…” You said breathlessly after you had begun to come down from your high. Cracking your eyes open you noticed the darkness still there in Hyunjin’s gaze, and the way that his eyes slit shut with want. The sound of the rain outside lulled your mind into a perfect state of peaceful limbo. “What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow his way in question. “What is it?” 

 He shrugged slowly, eyes coming away from your connected middles and locking with yours. “Nothing, just… I can’t fucking believe you just let me cum inside of you— with no protection.” 

 You could feel his cock softening inside of you, and finally, your legs stopped shaking around his waist. “Why? You don’t like the idea of that?” Beginning to pull away from him, you tried to yank as far away from his cock as you could. “If you didn’t like it, you should’ve—”

 Hyunjin’s mouth was coming onto you in the next beat, capturing your lips up into a heated kiss, stealing the labored breath right from your lungs and sucking on your puffy bottom lip. “Just shut the fuck up, alright. I fucking loved it… it was so hot— you’re so hot. Makes me wanna come in you every single day.” You could feel him move between your legs then, as he began to fuck his seed back into your aching walls. In the back of your mind, you could feel his hand lazily working at you, pushing a single digit back into your entrance between his cock, thrusting in the cum that was splattered across your thighs.  

 Groaning out softly at his words, you placed your hands on his bare chest and pushed a little bit so that you could get a look at his face again. It was filled with so much lust and want and adoration, the sight of it all almost overwhelmed you entirely. “Well, I suppose I could allow that…” Your voice trailed off, as you dragged a single finger up the center of his chest and towards the sharp line of his jaw. “If it’s with you— then yeah, you can fuck me raw every day.” 

 Hyunjin let out a low noise, which sounded like a mix between a moan and a cry for help. “But we can���t, baby doll— it wouldn’t be smart and I’d never want to put you in any kind of uncomfortable position.” 

 You found yourself shrugging off his concerns nonchalantly, as you drove your hips a little forward, meeting his shallow strokes. You loved the feeling there, of wetness and silky essence. “Yeah, but… the good thing is, at least we’d know who the father is.” 

 At that, he was flashing you a wicked smirk, pearly white glinting against puffy, red lips. His tiny smile was the last thing you saw before he was tipping into you and fitting his mouth around yours again. “Oh, you devilish little minx… I think I’ll keep you for a very long time.” 

 In the back of your mind, you could feel him moving against you, cock already stiffening again just from your words and insinuations alone. But at that moment, you weren’t too worried about what he planned to do with you for the rest of the night. Because right then, all you wanted to focus on was his face, and the way he let you ring your arms around his neck, pulling at the hair at his nape as he pressed kiss after impassioned kiss to your mouth. 

 It turns out that your roommate Felix had been right after all. In the end, working with Hwang Hyunjin hadn’t been that horrible. 

 It had been quite… nice. 

 Despite all of the bickering and shouting. 

 After a while, the rough bumps and edges of your rocky relationship seemed to mellow out between the tall bookshelves of the library. And before you knew it- he had you completely bending at his will — practically groveling at his feet for his love, attention, and care. 

 In the end, you supposed that that’s what you had always wanted from each other, and that’s why you had been so horrible to one another. If you couldn’t garner each other’s attention with regular conversations and friendship, the next best thing was to be rivals in your academics and throw insults at every opportunity you were offered. 

 But the thing about trying to hate Hwang Hyunjin — trying to hate such a smart, caring, passionate man — is that eventually, one’s willpower always breaks down, and they’re left in a pile of mess and limbs as they search out his affection. 

Fin.

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[invisibleicewands]

If you missed Tom Holland’s starring turn in “Romeo & Juliet” on the West End earlier this fall, now is your chance to get a taste of British theater — this time, for free and without leaving your home.

Enter London’s iconic Olivier stage with a viewing of Michael Sheen-led Welsh fantasia play “Nye” via National Theatre at Home (NT at Home), a streaming service designed to offer theatrical plays to viewers globally. “Nye” will stream for free on the National Theatre YouTube channel from 7 p.m. GMT on Thursday, Nov. 7 until Monday, Nov. 11.

Per the show’s description, in “Nye,” “Michael Sheen plays Nye Bevan in a surreal and spectacular journey through the life and legacy of the man who transformed Britain’s welfare state and created the NHS. Confronted with death, Aneurin ‘Nye’ Bevan’s deepest memories lead him on a mind-bending journey back through his life; from childhood to mining underground, Parliament and fights with Churchill.”

The stage play, which is written by Tim Price and directed by Rufus Norris, will be the second annual title offered as a free stream from the National Theatre.

“I can’t wait for audiences worldwide to watch this incredibly important show,” Sheen told Variety. “It feels particularly appropriate for this play to be available for free as it follows the founder of the National Health Service, Aneurin ‘Nye’ Bevan through his life and fight to make healthcare free at the point of access. The free stream is a brilliant opportunity for theatre lovers and skeptics alike to tune in, be inspired and learn something, too.”

After its free-streaming window, “Nye” is set to join more than 80 titles in the National Theatre at Home library. In a promo tied to “Nye,” NT at Home is offering new subscribers access to their streaming selection for half off of their first two months with the code “NYE50.” The service is currently priced at £9.99 per month (around $13) or £99.99 per year (around $130).

“I’m thrilled that audiences around the world will have the chance to watch ‘Nye’, not just for free, but from the comfort of their homes,” Norris, “Nye” director and co-chief executive of the National Theatre, said. “NT at Home was born out of the restrictions Covid created, when the National Theatre hosted weekly free broadcasts of productions, garnering 15 million viewers. The platform now has subscribers in 184 out of 195 countries. We’re thrilled to be able to continue to make theatre accessible worldwide with the annual ‘Take Your Seats’ free stream initiative, breathing new life into and building new audiences for productions we’re incredibly proud of.”

Callum Stewart, head of National Theatre at Home, explains NT at Home was born out of a desire to make theater available to locked-down viewers during the pandemic. “It comes down to accessibility and it comes down to affordability,” Stewart says. “Theater is for everyone.”

Stewart credits Sheen’s performance in the titular role and Norris’ directorial capabilities with making “Nye” resonate with audiences to the level that NT at Home decided to give it a free window at launch.

“It is almost like you’re in the hospital with [Nye] and you’re looking into his soul,” Stewart says. “The real human emotion when people don’t have long left…It’s touched a lot of personal points.”

For the 60th anniversary of the National Theatre in 2023, the streamer released its first “Take Your Seats” initiative, which was viewed by over 180,000 people, per the organization. “Nye” will mark the latest edition of “Take Your Seats.”

The show will be available with both audio description and British Sign Language on NT at Home. Stewart says that 85% of current titles offered on NT at Home come with audio descriptions and that the streamer is on track to bolster British Sign Language offerings in addition to starting trial runs for Spanish subtitling.

According to Stewart, telling these stories to global audiences is particularly important and filming this production on the National Theatre’s Olivier stage adds extra magic.

“When people go to the theater, it’s a moment in time. You’ve got to be in the play, almost with the actors. You’ve got to be in that story, in that moment,” Stewart says. “It’s so powerful you don’t have anything else like it. It beats absolutely everything.”

[melaninadorned]

March is National Reading Month for those who don't know...read a book y'all

just a reminder: Libraries do not care whether you read a book you borrow

so if you're not sure whether you'll read it, just borrow it ! It helps show what books people are interested in so they will get more of/keep those books and in general, more books circulating also = more funding

[adiluv-moved]

✦ : ❝ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 !

꒰synopsis—wc꒱ in which he sees his first snow. 826 words.

꒰warnings꒱ possibly ooc, reader is inazuman, not fully edited.

꒰adi moment꒱ merry christmas and happy new years @realkavehgf! you're an insanely kind person, and i'm frfr wishing you the best for 2024! this was my first time writing anything specifically for kaveh, so i do hope that i did him some justice. hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀི১

Sumeru, as one might come to assume upon learning of the nation’s typical climate, has never exactly been known to experience cold weather. Quite the opposite, really, if you were being entirely honest with yourself; if your time spent traversing the Dendro Goddess’ domain were to ever be considered a trustworthy testament. 

Hot was… an understatement, to say the least. A crude one, at that, almost akin to a dry joke that you might overhear while attempting to navigate the bazaar during one of the more unbearable summer days, sweaty palms just barely managing to maintain their grip on your groceries, the sun beating down on you with such intensity that you’d fear that your clothing would become soaked by the time you managed to return to the comfort of your small apartment.

Truthfully, it was no surprise that Kaveh had never once seen snow. Expected, even, long before he came to admit the fact of his own accord, the both of you lying within his bed as you mourned your first winter away from home, gentle hands pulling you close, almost comfortable enough within his embrace to disregard just how uncomfortably warm the temperatures remained during—what should’ve been—one of the coldest months of the year.

It was convenient, then, that he’d receive an invitation to Mondstadt City during the midst of the season, the Favonius library (of which you’d heard its librarian was a rather mysterious woman who’d attended the Akademiya alongside your lover) eager to host such an accomplished Kshahrewar scholar like himself. 

The both of you jumped at the opportunity, albeit for different reasons. The notion of inspiring future architects did, after all, hold quite a large appeal, doubly so considering the scrutiny that the arts had faced under the previous Grand Sage’s rule; and you’d never before been given the chance to visit the Nation of Freedom, either, what with the Vision Hunt Decree weighing so heavily over your ability to sightsee. 

Besides, getting to witness your beloved’s face practically pressed up against the window of your shared hotel room, expression overtaken by sheer admiration as he admired the snowfall… Certainly was an added bonus. Especially so when it landed the both of you where you were now, gently tugging at his gloved hand as the both of you took a stroll through the desolate streets, the moon having long taken its rightful place within the sky.

Especially so when his cautious inquiry finally melted away into a gentle sense of elation, arms fully outstretched for second-long intervals before being pulled towards his face, gorgeous crimson eyes admiring the designs of the tiny flakes tangled up within the scarlet yarn.

Yes, especially so when you’d impulsively moved to gather up some snow as his back was turned towards you, hitting him directly between the shoulder blades as he admired the latest batch caught on his clothing, the both of you soon running to find cover from the barrages of snowballs being sent each other's way; initial inhibitions wholly abandoned as you fought to gain the upper hand.

… Not that it was even that hard. Kaveh had certainly been put at a disadvantage, shuffling through the snow like a fish out of water, the heavy layers he’d simply insisted on wearing only serving to drag him further down into the snow.

“Dearest,” he huffs, breath wisping out of his mouth as he moves to duck behind the fountain, mittens haphazardly grabbing onto as much snow as they can as he makes his descent. With the distance, you miss the way that his golden hair has begun to stick onto his forehead, the way that he has to readjust his scarf in order to allow more air to flow through as he pulls himself back up. “I love you, truly, but please do go a bit easier—”

His final words are cut off by the sound of a snowball slamming directly onto his face, your own eyes widening as the excess falls to the floor, lips thinned in an attempt to restrain your laughter as you emerge from behind a crate.

Scrunching up the snow he’d obtained into one of his hands, the other moves up to wipe off the rest of the offending substance, shaking off what he can from his seemingly star-speckled clothing. His teeth chatter, pale skin taking on a pink-ish hue, and you’re halfway to stammering out an apology to his uncharacteristically stiff figure before you notice the lank smile that’s tugging at his lips.

You’re hardly even given the chance to react before he retaliates, shock written across your features as your vision is obscured, body reeling back just as another one manages to make contact with your arm, hurriedly retreating only for one to collide into your back.

… His aim might just be better than you give him credit for. Though it’s hard to be mad when his laugh sounds so melodic.

“Oh, it’s so on.”

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[hismourningflower]

"special day" ft kaeya + gorou x gn!reader literature content. fluff, maybe ooc, established relationships alexi’s notes. happy birthday to my dearest @yaminohimeyume ! thank you for being such a close friend to me, this is actually also your request you sent in - you have enough angst ma’am, you should have known i’d write you fluff instead !

I was scrolling and saw you asked for requests so, I went searching for two phrases so that I could decide what to ask... In the end I got two... either angst or fluff for Gorou, and if you feel like, for Kaeya <3

library waiting list. @soleillunne @lovingluxury @dumbificat @starryshinyskies @ryuryuryuyurboat @ainescribe @sangoqueenkoko

your lover is known for casually slacking off his work sometimes but regardless, KAEYA is a hardworking man. from taking up commissions from the other knights and running errands, or even training knights-to-be, the cavalry captain without his cavalry always has an excuse to be busy - or rather, appear busy. whether or not it be genuine work or an attempt at kicking his feet up during work hours, you're supportive and always there to ensure he's caring for himself.

this includes roping him home from the angel's share with the help of master diluc, the stench of wine heavy on his breath as he stumbles alongside the pair of you, his hands trying to shove your helping touch away as he urges "i'm married!" into the cool night air of mondstadt, much to both the amusement of yourself and diluc as you exchange glances.

it always includes you bringing his lunch to him, fresh from the good hunter - sara is quite fond of you, honestly - and all the times you've taken klee off his hands. that's the only time you can excuse him slacking off, in your eyes since by the archons, klee is a handful.

kaeya may or may not see your birthday and take it as a chance to squeeze himself out of the suffocating, stuffy air that is the knights of favonius headquarters. the empty vase on the kitchen table is filled with an array of your favourite flowers, colourful and basking in the golden light of the early morning sunrise that's casting its beauty onto the nation of freedom. they smell divine, sweet and floral accompanied with the breakfast that kaeya worked hard on; honestly a surprise that he knew how to navigate your shared kitchen enough to cook something.

the two of you spend the majority of the day wandering the bustling streets of mondstadt shopping, accompanied by the breeze so beautifully blessed by barbatos himself. one of kaeya's love languages may be acts of affirmation but his more commonly acted on love language is gifts. even if you try to shrug off his efforts throughout the day, kaeya is insistent on buying every little trinket and other that your eyes even so much as glitter at the sight of.

with the sunset as your witness, perched at the top of starsnatch cliff on a plaid picnic blanket, kaeya gives you your true gift - the one that had been purchased months in advance after he sought the help of jean. in his hands sits a small, plush velvet box that holds a necklace with a shivada jade gemstone cut so refined and glittering in the light of the sun dipping below the distant horizon. smiles adorn your faces as you make wishes on dandelion seeds, blowing them to be carried in the wind.

—

in hindsight, you had probably expected little to nothing from your workaholic partner as your birthday wrapped around. GOROU was hardworking, sure but sometimes you couldn't help but worry for his overall health. as his partner, it was your own hard work that kept the canine male on his feet during the trying times of the resistance.

little did you know, your hindsight would be incredibly wrong. gorou may focus solely on the resistance, his work as a general and the comrades around him however he is devoted to you, loyal to the one he recognises as his forever. with pointed ears and a wagging tail, gorou had already made plans months in advance with her excellency for your birthday - the hardest part was keeping it under wraps.

what can i say? the general of the watatsumi resistance is full of surprises, if people weren't already shocked from his prominent animalistic features and happy-go-lucky demeanour in a time of history being changed right before your very eyes, that is. the morning of your birthday, he'd already started your day before you had. gorou follows a strict regime daily and the man virtually exists only to follow schedules; he'll combust if he doesn't.

since gorou is always too busy to maintain his own health, you've always been the standing pillar at his side, ensuring he's fed and that he takes routine breaks out of his work to just breathe in the fresh air. this morning he wants to return all your kind acts, all the steaming plates of breakfast and packed bento boxes; always wrapped and made with the utmost of love.

the smell of food is the first thing you're greeted with when your eyes pry open, blinded by the spring inazuman sunshine that casts into the room through the open window, the curtains tied back and yet blowing gently in the warm breeze. gorou's humming is faint from the kitchen but you can make it out just enough to recognise that it's a song the soldiers take to singing around the campfire some nights.

after breakfast, gorou hands over his gift to you - one that albeit caused him a lot of pain that bared just for you, - a woven bracelet made of the fur of his tail. there's a sheepish smile on his face, cheeks dusted a light hue of pink as he rubs the back of his neck with a hand and admits just how painful it was to pluck fur from his own poor tail but despite the pain, the sentiment is there. he wants you to have a piece of him - literally - with you, especially when he goes to the battlefield with the chance of never returning to your side.

then the day takes its turn into the plans gorou has pre-emptively worked on to perfection, using this day as his chance to thank you for everything you have ever done for him as his lover. the beaches of yashiori island are plenty, your toes dipped in the sand and cool waves lapping at your ankles as you walk along the coast, hand in hand with your lover boy, so head over heels in love with you every time his eyes glance over to you and trail to that ginger bracelet clasped around your wrist.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | reblogs appreciated | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media. | divider by @/cafekitsune.

[puppetgearing]

mocha, strawberry, and chocolate for the ask game ♡

hi gray !!! i hope today's treating you swell !!! :]]]

----

✧ mocha ; what was your first kiss like ?

answer┆ ₊˚✧

definitely awkward, after all they went about a few months without the idea of "first kiss" in mind. now in all fairness, wanderer is niko's first kiss and since niko is the one initiating their first kiss together, the awkwardness is unavoidable.

he'd fidgets his hand, looking around nervously, turning his eyes away from his lover before giving his hand a squeeze and asked him if he can kiss him. wanderer thinks its amusing, really, he never thought niko was bold enough to ask that of him but he accepted it just to see how it goes and-- it went as well as you expected 💀

barely touching, eyes closed way too hard and face all red, niko looks like he's about to die from his body overheating but fortunately though, wanderer is more experienced in this field and decided to take the remaining steps by pulling niko out of his misery and closer for a genuine kiss.

after the awkward feelings were gone, all that's left was two lovers under the moonlight, enjoying the warmth in the cold night ♡ it might or might not also turn into a make out session tbh idk ehehe

----

✧ strawberry ; who's the big spoon ? who's the little spoon ?

answer┆ ₊˚✧

wanderer is usually the big spoon while niko is little spoon, they rarely ever switch and they don't change often cause it just... fits for them.

due to wanderer's desire to be in control and taking the initiative, being the big spoon usually brings him comfort. same with niko, he wanted to feel protected and safe during the night, as spending most of his life on the street being restless and scared of being attacked at night, having someone hold him and know that he's in safe arm makes him sleep easier.

ik its a simple question but !!! JAJDJSJD i like explaining why orz

----

✧ chocolate ; where do the two of you love to travel to ?

answer┆ ₊˚✧

for nation ? i don't think a lot of places, unless you count wanderer visiting fontaine but again it's rare chance...

IF WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HANG OUT SPOTS THO !! by the river or near a big tree, it's their favorite hang out spots by far cause it's just the both of them, alone with no one around. now granted i also like to think they often walk around sumeru market as a date sometimes, just walking around looking around and talking about who knows what and generally be in each other's presence but often time if outside they just like quiet places.

library is also a good place candidate, though niko just go in their to sleep so 💀

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

It​ is not a coincidence that in the last two decades of the 19th century, as the invert case study put gay lives into print for the first time, we begin to see the first novels that, rather than including gay characters within Zola-style social narratives, are instead about homosexuality, or, more accurately, about the condition of being a homosexual. There weren’t very many of these books, and most are long forgotten. But already, as Graham Robb observed in Strangers, his study of homosexuality in the 19th century, the trope of the ‘gay tragic ending’ was in evidence: ‘In twelve European and American novels (1875-1901) in which the main character is depicted, often sympathetically, as an adult homosexual man, six die (disease, unrequited love and three suicides), two are murdered, one goes mad, one is cured by marriage and two end happily (one after six months in prison and emigration to the US).’ As Robb says, it cannot only be that authors felt they had to inflict punishment on their characters, as a way of redeeming their text in the eyes of the censor. The tragic death was a strategy: by showing a doom to which gay men were fated, they were arguing against the society that made it inevitable. The case study underlies the major tradition of gay writing that developed after 1945 and that persists to the present day, the often melancholic or tragic novels of individual struggle, of childhood and adolescent experience, of attempted repression, of searching, of sexual experiment and release: from Gore Vidal’s The City and the Pillar to James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room, to Edmund White’s A Boy’s Own Story to Annie Proulx’s ‘Brokeback Mountain’ to Garth Greenwell’s What Belongs to You to Édouard Louis’s The End of Eddy to Alice Oseman’s Heartstopper. Those novels that largely or entirely concern themselves with gay male characters – such as Alan Hollinghurst’s The Swimming-Pool Library, which has no women in it – also have a relationship to the case study, which, especially once it concerns the subject’s adulthood, essentially limits itself to describing his interactions with men of his own kind. The requirement to lift our sights – to see gay lives as they interact with, to use Zola’s words, family, nation, humanity – is especially pressing if we are dealing with the past, when society was culturally and legally premised on heterosexuality to an extent no longer possible here (though still the case in many non-Western countries). To write about gay men in Britain in the 19th century, for example, should be to write about them as sons, brothers, friends, lovers, husbands, fathers, grandparents, members of a social class, employees, employers, thinkers, readers, politicians, imperialists and so on; as part of the world, not as apart from it. To return to Forster’s definitions, this would be to take gay men out of story and put them into plot; to turn them from ‘flat’ characters, with one dominating trait, into ‘round’ ones. This does not mean that we should minimise sexuality – rather, we would see its significance more clearly, as it disrupts, or perhaps doesn’t, in all areas of life; in so doing, we would see the society more clearly also. The same can be done in novels about the present: to live up to the full ambition of the idea of ‘queering’ – as disruption – we need to see a queer individual in the full spectrum of their relationships with people, places, institutions. To keep our exploration within the bounds of identity is to conspire in our own limitation. Full article: "Balzac didn't dare: Tom Crewe on the origins of the gay novel" [London Review of Books]

A rather thought-provoking article! The assertion about contemporary gay literature (the whole gay-related media, actually) still being centered on homosexuality itself is very true, and it's something I consider a crucial matter. And, of course, this also makes you raise questions over isolationist movements inside the LGBT+ community.

[aurasoulhikari]

Zexal Month Week 3 Day 12: H is for Hobby

@zexalmonth

Durbe walked to the library with the books he needed to return in hand. He had to admit living as a human wasn't all bad especially when the city had a place with a large assortment of reading material. Reading had been his favorite of past times since his first life and while Barian World had their own assortment of archives, Earth's literature truly beat anything else. Once he walked in he handed his books to the front desk before going down one of the sections wondering what he should read next. When he rounded a corner he was surprised to see Yuma sitting on one of the large chairs with a book in hand. For the time he's gotten to know the hope filled Duelists, Durbe never took him as the reading type. Then he caught a glimpse of Astral, his former enemy closed by his partner's side and looked to be looking at the book Yuma was reading. Then Durbe saw Yuma about to turn the page of the book but Astral stopped him looking at the book a few more moments before moving his hand back for Yuma to turn the page. That was when Durbe connected the dots. Though he shouldn't be all that surprised when he thought about it. No doubt like the Barians, Astral was new to Earth's current era of cultures literature would be no exception. And unlike Yuma, Astral definitely seemed like the reader type. Then Yuma looked up and grinned upon seeing Durbe and waved.

"Hey Durbe." Yuma whispered, actually whispered, as he waved. "Checking out books too?"

"You could say that." Durbe walked over to them, seeing Astral still reading. "I didn't take you as a book lover."

"You and everyone else." Yuma snorted, rolling his eyes. "Even I like a good book too."

"What do you normally read?" Durbe asked curiously.

"Fantasy and sci-fi stuff usually, though after meeting you guys the second one will be boring in comparison." Yuma admitted with a grin, motioning his head to Astral who was still reading.

"That is fair." Durbe admitted with a chuckle.

"I also read stuff on national monuments, historical ruins, and other stuff my dad talked about in his adventures." Yuma said. "You know, like volcanoes, auroras, grand canyons. I mean sure you could sorta experience stuff like that in a Duel but nothing beats the real thing."

Durbe looked at Yuma, a tad surprised not used to seeing him so passionate over something that wasn't dueling. He looked at the book and saw a picture of a monument.

"Is that what you and Astral are reading now?" He asked.

"Yup Astral wants to read about them so that when its Summer we can go see them for real." Yuma grinned. "Hey do you and the others wanna come too? We already invited III, Kotori, and the other guys too."

Durbe blinked stunned by the offer yet at the same time the idea of seeing such historical monuments and natural phenomena sounded very enticing to him.

".... I'll have to ask Ryoga and the others but I do not believe we would miss it." Durbe relented.

"Great!"

"Shhh!"

[rockislandadultreads]

National Library Lovers Month: Fiction

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig 

Somewhere out beyond the edge of the universe there is a library that contains an infinite number of books, each one the story of another reality. One tells the story of your life as it is, along with another book for the other life you could have lived if you had made a different choice at any point in your life. While we all wonder how our lives might have been, what if you had the chance to go to the library and see for yourself? Would any of these other lives truly be better?

In The Midnight Library, Matt Haig's enchanting blockbuster novel, Nora Seed finds herself faced with this decision. Faced with the possibility of changing her life for a new one, following a different career, undoing old breakups, realizing her dreams of becoming a glaciologist; she must search within herself as she travels through the Midnight Library to decide what is truly fulfilling in life, and what makes it worth living in the first place.

The Paris Library by Janet Skeslien Charles

Paris, 1939: Young and ambitious Odile Souchet seems to have the perfect life with her handsome police officer beau and a dream job at the American Library in Paris. When the Nazis march into the city, Odile stands to lose everything she holds dear, including her beloved library. Together with her fellow librarians, Odile joins the Resistance with the best weapons she has: books. But when the war finally ends, instead of freedom, Odile tastes the bitter sting of unspeakable betrayal.

Montana, 1983: Lily is a lonely teenager looking for adventure in small-town Montana. Her interest is piqued by her solitary, elderly neighbor. As Lily uncovers more about her neighbor’s mysterious past, she finds that they share a love of language, the same longings, and the same intense jealousy, never suspecting that a dark secret from the past connects them.

The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Barcelona, 1945 - just after the war, a great world city lies in shadow, nursing its wounds, and a boy named Daniel awakes on his eleventh birthday to find that he can no longer remember his mother’s face. To console his only child, Daniel’s widowed father, an antiquarian book dealer, initiates him into the secret of the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, a library tended by Barcelona’s guild of rare-book dealers as a repository for books forgotten by the world, waiting for someone who will care about them again. Daniel’s father coaxes him to choose a volume from the spiraling labyrinth of shelves, one that, it is said, will have a special meaning for him. And Daniel so loves the novel he selects, The Shadow of the Wind by one Julian Carax, that he sets out to find the rest of Carax’s work. To his shock, he discovers that someone has been systematically destroying every copy of every book this author has written. In fact, he may have the last one in existence. Before Daniel knows it his seemingly innocent quest has opened a door into one of Barcelona’s darkest secrets, an epic story of murder, magic, madness and doomed love. And before long he realizes that if he doesn’t find out the truth about Julian Carax, he and those closest to him will suffer horribly.

This is the first volume of the “The Cemetery of Forgotten Books” series. 

The Giver of Stars by Jojo Moyes

Alice Wright marries handsome American Bennett Van Cleve, hoping to escape her stifling life in England.  But small-town Kentucky quickly proves equally claustrophobic, especially living alongside her overbearing father-in-law. So when a call goes out for a team of women to deliver books as part of Eleanor Roosevelt’s new traveling library, Alice signs on enthusiastically. The leader, and soon Alice's greatest ally, is Margery, a smart-talking, self-sufficient woman who's never asked a man's permission for anything. They will be joined by three other singular women who become known as the Packhorse Librarians of Kentucky.

What happens to them - and to the men they love - becomes an unforgettable drama of loyalty, justice, humanity, and passion. These heroic women refuse to be cowed by men or by convention. And though they face all kinds of dangers in a landscape that is at times breathtakingly beautiful, at others brutal, they’re committed to their job: bringing books to people who have never had any, arming them with facts that will change their lives.

[kinsey3furry300]

I have no ideas what animorph is but I already seen it mentioned on at least 5 different blog which have nothing to do with each other (you being the 5th) what the hell is it???

90s/early 00s young adult sci-fi book series of around 60 short books, published once a month, by K A Applegate.

The books were distributed cheeply by the Scholastic book fair, and could be found in most school libraries thought the Mid 00s.

The plot was 5 normal kids have to stop a secret alien invasion by turning into various animals, and the books were known for starting off with quirky humour and very rapidly decending into utter existential horror with body horror, possession horror, and the ptsd you'd get if you were actually a teen super hero and had to fight an actual war with real stakes aged 13-16, and the fear of never knowing who your real enemy might be. The series ended about a month before 9/11 with a disastrous final battle and a grim warning about how war never really fixes any of the underlying problems between rival nations or peoples, and just destroys good people, so... yeah, ooof.

Due to the content, beloved by horror fans, super hero fans, Sci fi fans, furries (the kids have the power to turn into animals for combat and it gets real weird real fast), and the queer and the trans community, so it turns up on a lot of unrelated blogs.

The audio books are still readily available and are pretty well done, and the cover art of the books was gloriously 90s.

Behold!

There was also a tv show we dont talk about.

The main cast were:

Jake: the leader. There is an evil alien slug living in his brother's head, and this causes issues for him.

Cassie: Jake's crush. The moral center of the books. Also her parents are veterinarians at a zoo, with is very fucking convenient if you need a ready sourse of animals to turn into.

Marco: Jake's best friend, the smart one. Also uses inappropriate humour to cope with trauma (relatable).

Rachel: Jake's cousin. Uses turning into a grizzly bear and committing extreme violence to cope with her trauma (relatable).

Tobias: perminantly turns into a bird to escape his trauma (most relatable) but then has to deal with extreme body and mental dismorphia as a result. Has a star-crossed lovers plot with Rachel. He is my favorite.

Ax: an alien teenager they just adopted and hide in the woods. Is also my favourite. He's a bright blue centar with stalk-eyes and a sythe tail, and he loves Cinabon and warcrimes. Due to his extreme alien mindset, he's been taken as a metaphor for Neurodivergance, but it's unclear if that was the author's original intent.

The books are awesome, and still available as e-books, comics and audio books I'd you want to check them out.

Here is a video essay that does a far better job of explaining:

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Frederick R. Prete

Published: Feb 11, 2024

About the Author

Frederick Prete is a biopsychologist in the Dept. of Biology at Northeastern Illinois University. He teaches courses in neurobiology, and human and animal physiology. He has also served as an associate editor for the International Journal of Comparative Psychology. Prete writes about how people use and misuse biology to support their social and political points of view. 

Other essays by Prete can be found on his Substack Everything Is Biology.

--

The contemporary “debate” (if one can call it that) surrounding the biology of sex suffers from a lack of intellectual seriousness on one side. The arguments forwarded by those insisting on the non-binary nature of sex often demonstrate a rudimentary understanding of basic biology, or are so comically nonsensical that one wonders whether they’re even worth responding to. Academic biologists engaging with gender activists’ arguments for the so-called “sex spectrum” are like mathematicians engaging with numerologists (individuals who believe in a mystical relationship between numbers and coinciding events) or geologists debating Flat Earthers. However, given that sex pseudoscience has somehow taken over academia, serious scholars now find themselves compelled to engage with the absurd.

One such example is the bizarre suggestion that because some fish can literally change sex during their lifetime, then perhaps humans can too. This idea, while absurd on its face, is far from fringe. It has been given credence by popular science outlets like Scientific American, which highlighted the sex-changing abilities of clown fish “to emphasize the diversity of ways in which sexual beings move through the world.” Even the United Kingdom’s national library posted (and later deleted) a thread on X during Pride Month last year about the sex-changing abilities of the Māori wrasse, and Greenpeace made a similar move in 2021.

What relevance does LGBTQ+ Pride Month have to sex-changing fish unless there’s an intention to suggest that these examples illuminate the potential for sex changes in humans? But if activists insist on making such far-fetched comparisons, they should be challenged to follow their logic to its ultimate conclusion.

Let’s be honest, animals do a lot of weird things. They enslave other animals, eat their offspring, cannibalize their lovers, kill their newborn twin sisters, and devour their siblings in the womb. Do any of these activists want to justify slavery or embryonic cannibalism because animals do it? Probably not. But it’s equally silly to claim that we can derive grand lessons about human biology and sexual behavior from animals. Male octopuses, for instance, grab a packet of their own sperm with one of their tentacles, shove inside a female’s mantle cavity, and drop it next to her oviduct. This hardly seems like a behavior humans should try to emulate. Are there any objections? Why, then, would we think that fish sexual biology is a better model for us humans than that of octopuses?

What’s more, it frustrates me that those who continuously discuss sex changes in fish don’t get the fish-sex story straight in the first place. In reality, sex changes among the roughly 20 families and seven orders of teleost fish are driven by physiological and hormonal events that are triggered—depending on the species—by factors such as body size, perceived social status, or (in the monogamous clown fish Amphiprioninae) the disappearance of the large, breeding female. It’s also the case that those big, newly minted, dominant female clown fish are viciously aggressive to any fish they do not recognize as part of their group. So, if we’re taking our cues from clown fish, let’s not be hypocritical—let’s go all the way and demand that only extremely large, dominant, hyper-monogamous people who are particularly xenophobic should consider a sex change, and only after all the other females in the neighborhood have vanished. Does that sound reasonable? (I trust you realize I am being facetious here)

It should go without saying, but it appears that some still need a reminder: people are not fish. Fish live in the water. People live on land. When it comes to sex and reproduction, this makes all the difference in the world. In aquatic environments, you can simply release your gametes (eggs and sperm) into the water and let them drift around until they hook up. That’s because, in water, they won’t dry out and die. And neither will your embryos because they’ll be in the water, too. This is why so many fish can produce eggs or sperm at different times in their lives. It doesn’t take any specialized external organs to squirt gametes into the water, just a gonad for gamete production and an orifice for release.

However, the whole situation changes if you live on dry land. As mammals evolved for terrestrial life, they had to acquire adaptations—both structural and behavioral—to prevent their gametes and embryos from drying out. You can’t simply drop your sperms and eggs on the ground and hope for the best. So, male terrestrial animals evolved specialized external body parts for transferring sperm directly into females, who, in turn, have evolved body parts designed for receiving sperm and a chamber for nurturing the developing embryo until it is ready for life on dry land. Additionally—and equally important—both males and females evolved complementary neuromuscular behavioral patterns that allow them to court and mate successfully.

That’s why terrestrial mammals can’t change sex like some fish do. Such a transformation would require females to spontaneously sprout some kind of tube for internal sperm delivery, and males would need to somehow develop a complementary orifice. Moreover—and more importantly—both males and females would need to develop all the necessary internal parts and “plumbing” to make these external structures functional. It’s insufficient to merely alter the appearance of external structures, which can be done surgically (even on pets). A terrestrial animal transitioning from a female to a male would also require developing a complex duct system linking the gonads to the external tube, along with glands to secrete a carrying fluid and nutrients for the sperm (i.e., the Wolffian duct system, prostate, and bulbourethral glands). Going from male to female would involve developing some kind of organ to catch the eggs when they get released into the abdominal cavity, retain them until they encounter sperm, and then house the resulting embryo while it develops (these are derivatives of the Müllerian duct system).

Obviously, none of this could happen. When it comes to mammals, the die is cast prenatally. So, whatever fish do is their business and has absolutely nothing to do with terrestrial mammals. So, let’s drop the clown fish and Asian sheepshead wrasse analogies. Anybody who brings them up simply doesn’t understand evolutionary biology. It is futile to engage in discussions based on such analogies unless, of course, you’re one of those people who think that because some animals reproduce parthenogenically, humans should simply stop having sex altogether and hope for the best.

I want to make it clear that I have a deep understanding and empathy for those of us, including myself, who do not fit the popular stereotypes of any category or group. Throughout my life, I have received what seems to be an unrelenting stream of criticism for the fact that I was never (and still am not) perceived as representative of the norm (whatever that is). Consequently, I grew up defending those who were similarly targeted, and I believe that each of us should be continually mindful and accepting of the rich diversity of the human condition. Each of us should actively and consciously strive to be as compassionate, accepting, supportive, and inclusive as possible.

However, doing so does not require us to abandon reason, turn our backs on biology, or unhinge ourselves from reality.

[khensaptah]

Heyo! New to kemetic paganism, and a little less new to witchcraft. But what would be your advice for newbies building praxis? I know this is probably a SUPER common question, I'm just kind of in the absorption-of-knowledge phase and was curious. Thanks!

Always feel free to ask "common" or newbie questions! We are all new to this once, and every Kemetic has a different take on what praxis should look like, and those takes will change with time. My practice as a Kemetic Humanist is a mixture of historically informed devotional work, personal mysticism, and Seen world work to promote ma'at and fight isfet.

In that vein, the three things that I suggest to new Kemetics:

Read. A lot.

Develop a gratitude practice.

Volunteer.

Reading

Even if your practice isn't reconstructionist focused, there is so much out there to learn about Kemeticism! Blogs and social media and old forum posts are everywhere; books aimed at folks with lay person interest in Egyptology are easier to come by in bookshops; and articles and more heavy reading are accessible through both physical and online libraries.

Reading is a conversation with the author. If it's your book (or an ebook!) highlight things! Leave notes! If something really speaks to you, post a quote on your blog (or other place you like to hold onto tidbits, like a journal). This is especially important for online resources, which can disappear at any time. Write reviews if that's your jam! Once you start feeling more comfortable with your basic knowledge, read things by people who you disagree with, or whose sources are only so-so. You'll be surprised what you can learn from them. I am currently learning a lot while arguing with a book on the Pyramid Texts!

You can also learn a lot by reading from adjacent practices (religions from the Levant, the Mediterranean, and from other African nations all influenced ancient Egypt; likewise ancient Egypt influences modern Coptic and Islamic practices in Egypt; ) or even vastly different religions (every time I learn something about Shinto, I feel like I learn more about Kemeticism).

Gratitude

Now, this might seem a little out there, but one of the best things I ever did for my practice was steal this neat trick from @tybarbary. Make a list of ten things you're grateful for every day (or at least, every time you have a bad day). Sometimes, this really sucks. Some days are terrible. Things can be repetitive (I cannot say how many times the ten things have been a list of every pet or lover in my life). BUT.

Listing those things is great for your mental health. Mental wellness is ma'at; it's so important to do what you can to maintain balance inside your heart. These things also become a list of offerings. In times where you might not have much to give, you will have your gratitude to offer the Netjeru, and this too will feed them.

The second thing this does is help build a daily practice. If you're checking in once a day to celebrate your victories in life, it becomes easier to add more steps. Habits build off each other. If you already have a habit of making a gratitude list, it's easier to light a candle or incense before hand. It becomes easier to work in heka or more formalized rituals as part of that.

Volunteering

The core of this religion is ma'at: the balance of the world; all that is right and true. Kemeticism is not apolitical: it is about trying to bring the Seen world back to that moment of harmony that existed in Zep Tepi, and doing that over and over again.

Pick a cause. There's millions of them, but pick just one. Get as small and local as you can. And see what you can do to help. It doesn't have to be a lot! We are all trying to survive under capitalism and facism, and we all have unique circumstances that compound the situation. But try and do something small to help your cause once a month (more if you can).

My personal favorite causes to look for, because literally every neighborhood has them are food or housing justice organizations (this doesn't have to be a formal organization, it can be as simple as a micropantry or a facebook group for folks who need a safe space to crash for a night) or mutual aid organizations (mutual aid isn't always financial. Sometimes folks need help with tasks of daily living, or to borrow an item, or someone who understands how [your niche interest or skill here] works).

Bring the light of the gods into your world. This too is an offering!

Hope some of this will be helpful for you! Thanks again for the question!

[archoniluthradanar]

In Love Lies Death

A request by @felixschokehold under Sad Stories with the Volturi

Caius, the gift-less vampire of the Volturi triumvirate, had finally met his mate in a pretty red-haired woman who worked for the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Roma or as it was called in English, the Rome National Central Library. She was driving from Rome on a country road when her car got a flat tire. She pulled over to the side of the road, and got out to glare at the damaged tire, not knowing how to change it. She checked the trunk and found she had a spare and a jack, but had no knowledge on what to do with either.

Caius spied her as he was driving past the disabled vehicle, and pulled over. He was not starving, having fed 5 days ago, but thought he could do with a snack. He got out of his car and walked over to her. "Car trouble, I see," he observed with a smirk.

"Yes, flat tire, and I don't know how to change a flat tire. Do you?" She stood with her hands on her hips, still frowning at the car.

Caius wanted to laugh, but when she turned to look up at him, he couldn't see past the deep olive green of her eyes. With that and her genuine smile, he lost any interest in drinking from her. "I'll see what I can do."

Caius changed the tire, his natural strength making it easy. In no time, he was finished, and was using a rag to clean his hands. "All done," he said with a grin.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help." Her smile intrigued Caius. She was pretty, more than pretty, with her long red hair and green eyes.

"I'm Caius. Pleased to be of assistance." Loathe to let her drive away and out of his life, he asked her to lunch. "There is a small café down the road. Please, let me take you there. We can talk for a while." He noticed the pink blush of cheeks. "Unless you're married?"

"No," she said. "I'm not married nor do I have a boyfriend. I would have to refuse your invitation in that case, but since I have no one, I can say I would be happy to join you for lunch." Miranda in fact, had no one. Her parents were dead, and her last boyfriend had left her to move to America.

"Follow me then down this road about 4 miles. It's on the right side of the street." He got into his car, satisfied when he saw her car following him. They both pulled into the parking lot, where Caius met her at her car. He helped her out and placed his hand at the small of her back. "What's your name, by the way?"

She flashed a smile at Caius. "It's Miranda."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Caius asked Miranda out over the next month. He had already decided she was the perfect woman for him, beautiful, graceful, intelligent, and curious about life. Since Athenodora had left him so long ago, he preferred to remain alone. To think of taking a human for a mate was unacceptable since they were inadequate, and vampires were rare enough to make his desire for a new mate unfulfillable. Athenodora had been lured away by a human male, whom she later changed. It didn't make Caius any more a lover of humans when he had learned that. Yet here he was, drawn to a human he would never let go. He had to ask her if she was as interested in him as much as he was with her.

Miranda actually adored Caius, but was afraid to say anything. Men these days had such commitment issues, she had given up finding an equal she could love and respect. So she was quite taken off guard when he had asked her if she loved him. She gazed into his violet eyes, a strange colour for a man. Elizabeth Taylor was said to have had violet eyes, but Miranda found only one photo that proved that. Re-focusing her thoughts, she knew Caius was asking her about her feelings, feelings for him. "Caius, I love you. Surely you know that. If not, I haven't been doing things right."

He smiled at her statement. "I love you, Miranda. You've been everything my previous...wife was not." The violet of his eyes darkened to a medium purple. He confessed the truth of his existence at that moment, taking one of her hands and kissing the palm. "Miranda, my love, I'm a vampire, whether you believe me or not. Do believe I love you and want you to join me in Volterra with my people as my mate. You will become like me and live forever."

Miranda was shocked at first, disbelieving all of it, until he removed the blue contact lenses that made his eyes appear violet. She peered into the crimson orbs with interest. Maybe she should have run, but she was frozen to the spot. Her boyfriend was a vampire, and he was asking her to become one too. Seeing the man she had grown to love standing before her, she impulsively hugged him. Laughing, she told Caius how much she admired and wanted him. "Yes, I will go with you to Volterra."

Once they were at the castle that Caius called home, he introduced Miranda to Aro and Marcus. The latter had seen his brother's mate very much a part of his existence, so gave the human female a smile of welcome. "My dear, you will make our Caius a very happy man. Welcome to Volterra, and to our home."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Miranda enjoyed going into the village or the countryside when Caius was busy with trials and unavailable to her. He only stipulated she be home by evening, so that they could spend time together. He would remove her clothing piece by piece, until she was as nude as the statues he had seen when he lived in Greece so long ago. He would worship her with his body, his desire focused on pleasing his mate first.

When it came time for her to be changed, Caius did it himself. Holding her, he kissed her deeply, curbing his desire to take her again. He wrapped his arms around her, baring her neck of her long red hair, then he kissed her throat, nibbling gently before biting her hard and deep. His venom flooded his mouth as he forced it into her body. She writhed in extreme pain for several days, until she finally slept. When she awoke, Caius had his mate for all eternity.

Their shared life was pleasant and exciting. They traveled the world together when Caius wasn't needed at home. They studied ancient texts with Aro and Marcus in the early morning hours when most humans were asleep. Caius had never been happier, his moods softened by the love shown to him by his mate.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Miranda had gone into town to do some shopping. While there, she bumped into a man who claimed to know Caius. The fact he knew her mate was a vampire made his story plausible. He asked how Caius was, his smile slightly off to Miranda. He said he had meant to visit the Volturi leader, but time had gotten away from him.

Miranda said he should come back to the castle with her if he wanted to see his old friend. The man, who said his name was Georg, accepted her invitation. On the way back, they walked along a portion of the high wall that was part of the wall surrounding the city. Suddenly, Miranda found herself wrapped in arms holding her tightly. Georg had embraced her, and moving to the balustrade out of eyesight of anyone, he jumped over the railing and fell hundreds of feet to the bottom of the wall. When they landed, he ran toward the forest, Miranda thrown over his shoulder.

When Caius didn't find Miranda anywhere in the castle, he ordered Demetri to find her. It took the tracker a few days, but his success would mean grief for his master. The coven came as soon as Demetri had called Caius.

Miranda's body was found lying at the base of a large tree. Caius saw his mate, unmoving. The Guard walked the area to see what evidence they could find. One came back to report he had found werewolf tracks indicating there had been at least seven. The fury in Caius' eyes darkened them to black. He had killed most if not all of the werewolves. Apparently some had lived to enact their revenge against him. All because the werewolves had managed to survive over time, and because of their hatred for him, they had destroyed the light his soul.

Kneeling at her side, he saw the many grievous wounds that had killed her. She had been literally ripped apart. "They left her face untouched," he whispered, while he brushed aside strands of her red hair. He leaned down to kiss her, her open eyes staring sightless at him.

Aro stood beside Caius, witnessing his brother's pain. "They were very cruel, brother. They left her face untouched so that you would always remember her beauty, even as they savaged her body."

Caius was conflicted in his fury at the loss of his mate and his fear of the beasts who had killed her. "Aro, this is my fault. Had I destroyed them all, she would be safe...and alive."

"Bring her home, brother. We will take care of her there," Aro said quietly, placing his hand on Caius' shoulder.

Caius slipped his arms under her body, lifting Miranda off the cold hard ground. Felix collected any of her torn off body parts. She might have lived, but there had been too many of them for her to fight alone. He cradled her gently as if she could feel the pain inflicted upon her.

Once the coven members had returned to Volterra, Caius commissioned a tomb to be built in the town cemetery. It was made of pure white marble, her profile carved into the hard stone. When it had been completed, he personally placed her within the tomb, laying a red rose on her chest, her hands seemingly holding the perfect bloom.

Visitors to the Palazzo dei Priori would now see two Volturi masters sitting on their thrones, dispassionate, disinterested, and under the thrall of Chelsea. Aro had no choice but to order her to influence Caius to keep his brother from starving himself to death. Perhaps one day, Caius would come out of his grief and hunt down the last of the surviving werewolves.

In the Volterra cemetery, stood a carved marble tomb holding the body of a mortal who, in her trust, had fallen in love with a vampire, and had given up her mortality to be with him forever.