#new poem from like three days ago!

[spelllingandthemysteryschool]

The Endlessness by Ada Limón

[tenok]

.

[i-am-baechu]

✩ Title: The Lovers

✩ Paring: Idol! Taehyung x Actress! Reader

✩ Summary: It's been a rule, if you date an actor or actress you have to be strong. Especially when you see them kissing another for their new drama. Why is it so hard to be strong?

✩ Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, Tae is just an insecure boy that needs a hug and smut

✩ Playlist: Only - LeeHi & Loving With All Your Heart by Domsonegongbang

✩ Authors note: Having a heat stroke sucks. I'm finally feeling better and I'm able to post this story. I'm sorry for being sick!

Prologue

"Insecurity kills all that is beautiful". - Anonymous 

It was the early morning, the streets were still empty as the sun gently entered the buildings waking everyone up from their deep sleep. L/N Y/N slowly opened her eyes when she heard a cabinet close from the bathroom. She let out a small groan and turned towards the clock on her nightstand, 07:35 am. She ran her hand through her messy hair as she let a deep sigh out. Today was supposed to be her day off, and so was Taehyung’s but it seems like things have changed.

She glanced at the door with a frown, the talk from last night was still clouding up her mind. There was something wrong but she can’t change anything if he doesn’t tell her anything. She quickly shook her head and picked up her phone to message her best friend, Kim Sejeong. 

How is he?

She looked up from the text and stared at the wall with a hard look. It was a simple question that had a complex answer. An answer that she doesn’t have, which made things harder. 

I don’t know...he hasn’t really talked to me since our conversation. 

Give him some time. 

Kim Taehyung stared at the mirror with a hard look. He didn’t get much sleep last night, who would? Seeing the person you love cry because of your own foolishness could keep anyone up. That’s what made things so hard, especially right now. He glanced down at the sink as he closed his eyes and the scene replayed right before him. 

Being center stage was normal for Taehyung. All eyes were on him as he expressed his feelings but this was different. The center stage that he became so familiar with was on fire and the only one that felt it was him. He stared at Y/N as she wiped tears away from her eyes, "Tae, why are you ignoring me?"

There was an answer but it couldn't leave his lips. He couldn't disappoint her....he couldn't see her eyes look at him with sadness or even pity. That would make him sick. All this was caused by his brain and nothing more.

He placed his hand on top of her knee and produced the best fake smile that he could muster, "I'm sorry love. I've been so tired."

Y/N glanced at his hand and then at his face, "Is that the truth?"

No..."Yes, let's go have dinner. I'm sorry I made you cry."

"Tae, just talk to me, please. I don't want to be left in the dark."

What kind of man am I? "You won't be in the dark."

I'll solve this for us, Y/N. Don't worry about my own foolishness. I'll become better for us.

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts when there was a knock at the door, “Baby, you’ve been in there for a long time...is everything okay?” 

His fingers gripped the countertop and let out a small cough, “I’m okay...I’ll be out in a few minutes.” 

“I’ll start breakfast...” 

He listened to her footsteps until the silence was choking him. He roughly ran his fingers through his hair as he was frustrated with himself. A foolish man with a brain that tortures him and it was all his fault. Nothing more and nothing less. 

ACT I [ Three Months ago] 

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul." - Pablo Neruda, from his poem "Sonnet XVII" in "100 Love Sonnets"

Y/N put her coffee back down as the glare from the Hybe building blinds her. She was sitting at a cafe across the street and on this busy morning in Korea, she was hidden away by a black piece of fabric. It was another typical morning for Y/N, to get a cup of coffee and wait for her boyfriend. Nothing more and nothing less. Well...her boyfriend was someone that everyone knew and the same goes for herself. No one in the public knew that the famous actress; L/N Y/N, was in a relationship with Kim Taehyung of Bts for four years. A secret love that was in the hands of those who were close to them and that's how it's going to be until the time is right to come out. 

She whipped her head towards the door and a smile appeared under her mask when she saw her boyfriend coming in with his black coat hiding who he was. Of course, she knew it was him, she bought him that coat on their second anniversary. She had the matching one but she kept it in a special place with her other special gifts from him. 

She stood up in excitement and quickly made her way towards him. He glanced towards the sudden footsteps and smiled under his mask. She wrapped her arm around his, causing him to snicker at her clinginess, “You look extra mysterious today, love.” 

Taehyung let out a small laugh and glanced at his jacket, “You said you wanted me to dress up like Sherlock. I hope I did him justice.”

She gently picked up the material and smiled, “My favorite detective.”

He entwined their fingers together and walked back towards her table, “Speaking of detective...”

She rolled her eyes at this and looked away from his small smirk, “It’s just another acting gig...”

He rubbed her knuckles and kissed the top of her head, “It’s not just another gig. It’s a Netflix show, that’s incredible. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m just nervous because I’m working with people who have had more experience than me.” 

They sat back at the table and he placed his hand on top of hers on the table, “I think it's exciting. Tell me about it.” 

“It’s called Human Touch...I play the female lead who falls in love with the arrogant detective.” 

He continued to rub her knuckles and nodded his head, “That sounds like all the books you read.”

She felt her face get hot under the mask and she pouted under the mask, “Don’t tease me. Are we still having lunch?” 

“Yeah, but the restaurant we want to go to is closed today. Want to go to Jin’s?” 

“Ohh, that’s free food. Let’s go!~” 

Y/N and Taehyung are the friends-to-lovers story that everyone loves to read. She was Hoseok’s best friend from high school and after not seeing each other in years, Hoseok begged her to come to a concert near where she lived at the time. She just finished her second drama and her name was trending online but that didn’t mean anything to her. She was still a rookie with a famous friend. She didn’t want to be seen as a social climber. Hoseok didn’t really care about that and she finally accepted after he got his sister to ask her to come. 

She entered the dressing room and looked around with wide and curious eyes. The room wasn’t what she was expecting. Honestly, she had no idea what to expect. The room was so large that it should be considered to be a living room. There were couches that were calling out her name but she knew how expensive they were. She didn’t want to get them dirty. 

She glanced down at her backstage pass and took a deep breath. BTS was on a whole new level of fame. She worked with famous actors/actresses but this is so different. They were known around the world and were loved by almost everyone. It made this meeting even more nerve-wracking for her. 

“Are you Hoseok-hyung’s friend?”

She turned her head and she was met with brown eyes that were really close to her own. She jumped back and tilted her head at him, “Y-Yes. Who’s asking?”

“I’m Taehyung. I just wanted to meet the person that Hoseok spent a week talking about.” 

She swallowed her spit and wiped her hand on her jeans, “I hope it was good things...he knows too much about me.”

Taehyung let out a small laugh and nodded his head, “It was all good things which is why I wanted to meet you.”

“I’m nothing special.”

He shook his head and gently tapped the middle of her forehead causing her to blink in confusion, “You are special. Don’t forget that.” 

She felt her face warm and a small smile formed, “The only special one here is you, Kim Taehyung.”

“I see you as someone special, L/N Y/N.” 

Asking her out was the hardest thing that Taehyung encountered. He had never met someone that made him so nervous before. She was different but at the same time, she was something so familiar. They both liked to recreate their first date once in a while when they weren’t too busy with work. It was special for them. 

Y/N was finishing up cleaning the kitchen when she heard a knock on the door. She raised her eyebrow in confusion, she wasn’t expecting anyone tonight. She walked towards the door and looked through the small hole. 

“What the?”

She opened the door and tilted her head, “Jungkook?”

“I have a surprise for you.” 

She glanced at the clock and then back at him, “It’s literally ten at night.”

“Trust me.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded her head, “Fine, you're lucky I like you.” 

What she thought was going to be a quick surprise turned into an hour's drive. She fell asleep in the car as Jungkook held in his laugh when he saw the drool going down her face. He gently shook her and she let out a small groan, “We’re here.”

She rubbed her eyes and looked around with a confused look, “Are we near the mountains?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, are you killing me?”

Jungkook gave her a confused look and shook his head, “What? No, why would you think that?”

“It’s night time and we’re by the mountains where no one can hear me scream.”

“Fair…Taehyung is waiting for you by the entrance.”

She raised her eyebrow at this and glanced through the glass, “He’s waiting for me?”

“Yeah, hurry up.”

She walked towards the entrance and raised her eyebrow when she saw Taehyung leaning against the entrance sign, “Tae?”

He immediately stood up straight and gave her a boxy smile, “Y-Your here?”

“Yes?”

“He was supposed to text me…never mind that.” He leaned down and took something behind the sign. Her eyes widened at the bright roses and her mouth dropped, “Tae?”

“You said you always wanted red roses and to watch the stars.”

she glanced at the roses and then at him, “I did…you remember that?”

“I always remember what you say.”

She took the roses and smiled at them, “What does this mean?”

“I want you to be my shooting star. Will you be my star?” 

It was the start of something but Y/N never thought Taehyung would see her as more. Now after four years, she’s become more confident with herself and her career. It took a long time but here she was standing strong with a smile on her face and the love of her life supporting her. 

Taehyung opened the door for her and the smell of food hit her with full force. She turned towards Taehyung pulling her mask down, “I’m so excited for this. You have no idea.”

He chuckled at this and gently tapped the middle of her forehead, “It’s because you didn’t eat all day.”

She pouted at this and pulled her mask up, “Leave me alone. Let’s go eat.” 

“Drinking coffee isn’t food, Y/N.”

“Then feeeeddd mee.” 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Taehyung was in his studio typing away when the door opened. He leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrow when he saw Jungkook panting heavily, “What happened to you?” 

“Jaehyun told me something interesting.”

“How does that involve me?” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone from his pocket. Taehyung continued to watch him with confused eyes, It’s eight in the morning? What could happen this early? He was met with a bright screen and he squinted his eyes at the screen to read whatever it was; NCT Jaehyun stars in a new drama with L/N Y/N. Human Touch is the highly anticipated show after the Webtoon finished in January causing fans to demand a drama. The director said it will come out somewhere between November or December making it the perfect drama for fall or winter. 

Taehyung smiled at this and looked up at Jungkook, “That’s exciting.” 

“I know, Jae said it took a while for SM to accept it but he was glad he got it.” 

“Did he read the comic?”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and put his phone back in his pocket, “He said he always wanted to work with Y/N. He really admires her.”

He raised his eyebrow at this but quickly shook the uneasiness, “I’m excited for Y/N. She didn’t think she would get the part.”

“I can’t wait to watch Noona on the screen.” 

“CUT! You did a good job L/N!” 

Y/N smiled at this and bowed at the director. It was another day that she had to film a commercial for a lip product that turned into a photoshoot and shoot. Two for one deal. Her manager walked towards her with a smile, “I have big news.”

Y/N took a sip of her water and raised her eyebrow, “Oh?” 

“Jaehyun is officially part of the cast.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at this and she placed her water on the table, “Really? That’s great. I feel like he would play the role so well.” 

“With your help, SM finally accepted it.” 

“That’s really exciting.” She felt her phone vibrant in her pocket and she took it out. She smiled when she saw it was Taehyung texting her, I saw the article. I’m so proud of you, love. 

“There’s going to be a quick meeting regarding the drama at four this evening.” 

Y/N put her phone back in her pocket and nodded at her manager, “Okay, is it with the full case? That’s really fast.” 

“The director wants to meet with the two leads, that’s it.” 

Y/N nodded her head and glanced at the director for her photoshoot, “I don’t have a problem. I think we're done taking the pictures.” 

“I’ll go speak to the director. You wait here.” 

She watched her manager go towards the director when she felt another buzz in her pocket. She took her phone out and let out a small laugh when she read the text, Why haven’t you messaged me back? :( 

I’m sorry, I was talking to my manager. I’m going to meet Jaehyun today with the director. I’m really excited to meet with him, I begged for the director to get him on this project after watching his audition tape.

Oh? You asked for him? 

It was between Jaehyun and Kyung-soo.

Those are good choices...Are we still up for tonight? 

Of course, we are!

Taehyung placed his phone on his desk as he stared at his computer screen. She asked for him specifically? Why do I feel weird about this? He shook his head and sat up straight in his computer chair, “It’s probably nothing.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

She opened the door to see Taehyung on the couch sitting with Yeontan. She raised her eyebrow at this and pouted, “Tae.” 

He turned his head and smiled at her from the couch, “Hey baby.”

This was weird. He usually waited by the door for her but she shrugged her shoulders and set her stuff in their right places, “You didn’t pick up when I called.” 

“Sorry, I just got out of a meeting. I didn’t look at my phone.” 

That was weird, part two. He always checked his phone but she let it slide because she knew he was busy with his music. She nodded her head and walked towards him with her slippers echoing through the apartment. She sat next to him and leaned her head against his arm, “The meeting went well. Jaehyun is perfect for this role.” 

Taehyung nodded his head and kissed the top of her head, “I’m happy for you. What do you want for dinner?” 

“Oh, Jaehyun bought me some food after the meeting. I’m okay.”

Taehyung nodded his head but he had a sharp look that Y/N didn’t notice, “What did he get you?” 

“He got me japchae and yook hwei.” 

How did he know that was her favorite? “Oh, that’s your favorite. That’s good he got that for you.” 

“It was really sweet of him to do that. He wanted to show he was grateful for me.” 

Taehyung swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head, “For?”

“Basically telling SM to give him this role. It wasn’t easy but we won at the end of the day. I’m just glad the show is going to be so good with him on the team.”

Why is she so excited for him? “I’m glad...” 

Act II [ Green Eyed] 

‘There is no greater glory than love, nor any greater punishment than jealousy.’ - Lope De Vega 

“Baek-hyeon, I-I-”

He rolled his eyes and turned towards Aera with an annoyed look, “You don’t believe in me? Why?”

Aera shook her head at this, “I do believe in you-”

“Then act like it.”

Aera took a step back and looked away from him. She couldn’t see the anger in his eyes, “I’m just scared for you. It’s dangerous for you.”

“I’m a detective. This is what I do.”

“CUT!” 

Y/N turned towards the director and pouted, “What’s wrong?” 

“The lighting made a glare in the lens. We need to re-do the scene.” 

Y/N nodded her head and turned towards Jaehyun with a smile, “You did really well. I think you need to be more assertive when you say I’m a detective. It would sound better.”

“You think so? I don’t want them to hate him.”

“His personality is arrogant and he’s somewhat cold. It’s going to show good character development later on.”

Jaehyun nodded his head at her and put his fingers under his chin, “Ah, I see. I’ll make notes. Thanks.” 

She watched him go to his chair as she went towards her dressing room. Even though this morning was productive, it wasn’t a good one. Taehyung left without saying goodbye to her but he texted her saying he had a surprise morning meeting. He always said goodbye to her, no matter what. 

She sat in her dressing room and clicked on the person she wanted to FaceTime with, “Hey you.” 

Kim Sejeong repositioned her camera and waved at her, “Hey, how’s filming?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair and smiled, “It was good. We got half of the first episode done.” 

Sejeong raised her eyebrow at her tone, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N sighed and shook her head, “I think I’m overthinking.”

“You tend to do that. What’s wrong?”

“Taehyung, he didn’t say goodbye to me this morning. He always kisses the top of my head but he didn’t do it this time.”

“Did he text you?”

Y/N pouted and nodded her head, “He did…you think I’m overthinking?”

“It depends. What did the text say?”

“Sorry, I didn’t kiss you. I had a surprise meeting.”

Sejeong raised her eyebrow at this, “Is that all he said?”

“Yeah, he didn’t send his usual heart emoji to me.”

“Maybe he’s busy. It was a surprise meeting.”

Y/N nodded her head, “Maybe. The past two weeks have been crazy. I’ve been filming non-stop and it feels like I barely see him.” 

“Try and squeeze him in there. Tell him you love him more.”

There was a knock on the door and she glanced at the dark wood, “Y/N, the director is ready.” 

She glanced back at her phone and waved at Sejeong, “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later. Fighting!”

Taehyung sat in the practice room with a blank expression. Y/N has been so busy with filming that she’s barely had time with her. He understood but she was spending so much time with Jaehyun that he was becoming a second thought. He knows how it is, filming and all that. Logically he understands but emotionally he doesn’t. That was the frustrating part. He knew it was stupid to feel like this but he couldn’t help it.

The door opened and Jimin raised his eyebrow to see Taehyung sitting on the ground. He set his stuff on the floor and made his way to him. Taehyung was in such deep thought that he didn’t even notice Jimin sitting next to him. 

“You good?”

Taehyung jumped and turned to see Jimin’s concerned eyes, “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to. You look like you got stuff on your mind.”

“I do.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Taehyung sat there for a minute and thought about it. If he told Jimin then he would suggest talking to Y/N and he really didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want Y/N to know how he was feeling because it was wrong for him to feel like that. She has never felt jealous with all the dating rumors he got with other girls. He couldn’t tell her that he was jealous because of this. It didn’t make sense to feel that way. 

“No, it’s just something stupid.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry.” 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Y/N and Taehyung were on a date and Y/N planned the whole day. After talking with Sejeong, she decided that on her next day off she was going to spend the whole day with Taehyung. She was going to do everything they like to do together today. It’s been about a month since they really had a date, a real date. They had quick lunches but she didn’t consider those to be dates, 

She’s also noticed that Taehyung has been acting differently. At first, she thought she was overthinking but now she knew it wasn’t her mind playing games. There was something wrong with him. She kinda figured that it was because she wasn’t really talking to him or spending time with him. It was her fault that there was miscommunication and she wanted to say sorry for it. 

They walked in the private park near their apartment and she planned to have a simple picnic. It was a nice day, the sun was out after a long week of rain. It was finally sunny, it was a sign from the universe to fix their problem. 

They sat near the small pound and she took out all of the sandwiches that she made for the day. She sent the last drink and looked at him with a smile, “I made all your favorites. They ran out of your tea so I got the lemonade you like. Is that okay?”

Taehyung picked up a sandwich and nodded his head, “It’s fine.” 

She smiled at this and looked across the pond, “It’s a nice day. I’m glad I get to spend the day with you.”

“I am too.”

She looked back at him and she frowned a little, “I’m sorry that I haven’t really been talking to you that much. I feel bad...I noticed that you haven’t really talked to me. I’m sorry that I only noticed until a couple of days ago.” 

Taehyung stopped eating and stared at the pink blanket. I made her feel like this? It’s so stupid that I feel like this. It’s not worth making her sad. He put down the sandwich and looked at her with a small smile, “It’s my fault too. I have a phone, I know how to use it. Don’t apologize.”

She placed her hand on top of his and shook her head, “You always text me first. I should’ve texted you first. I wanted this date to be perfect.”

Taehyung gave her a small smile and leaned forward placing a quick kiss on her lips, “It is perfect.” 

Right before she could say something, her phone buzzed. She picked her phone up and unlocked it to see Jaehyun texted her, I was wondering if tonight we can practice our lines together. I’m having a hard time with this upcoming scene

Of course, we can. Is it the ice skating scene?

Yeah, I don’t know how to express his feelings and I can’t land my lines

Don’t worry I’ll help you. Is seven good?

That’s perfect, thanks

No problem 

Y/N put her phone back and she smiled at him, “I’m just glad I can spend time with you. I missed you.”

“Who was that?”

She raised her eyebrow and glanced at her phone then back at him, “It was just Jaehyun. He needed help with a scene.”

Taehyung felt his chest tighten. That was the second time that Jaehyun asked for help. He knew acting was hard but to ask for help constantly from her, that’s weird. Well to him. Logically it makes sense to ask for help but he didn’t want it to be her. He took a bit from his sandwich and nodded his head, “How’s it going with filming?”

Y/N took a sip of her lemonade and smiled, “It’s been so good. All the scenes look really good and I’m so excited for you to see the final product. I worked really hard.” 

“I know you’ve been working hard. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, baby. 

He tried his best to smile but it was really hard especially when his chest hurts, “How’s Jaehyun?”

“He’s been working really hard. This is his first real acting gig and he’s improving with each shoot. I knew he was the perfect choice.”

Perfect choice....”I’m glad..”

“Tae, are you okay?

“I am. Why?”

She tilted her head and frowned at him, “There’s something on your mind...I can tell. You can tell me anything.” 

This has nothing to do with you...It’s my own dumb thoughts. He leaned towards her and placed a kiss on her forehead, “I’m just stressed about work. That’s all.”

“I’ll yell at Namjoon for making you work so much. You need a break.”

My brain needs a break from everything. “You need a break too, baby.”

“Let’s watch our anime today and just watch the clouds. That would be perfect.”

“It will be, love.”

They laid back and watched the romance anime that they started together. It was a cute anime, a simple school anime but nevertheless, they loved it. Taehyung glanced at Y/N who was snuggling up into his side. She was so beautiful, especially in moments like this. He turned his attention back to the screen and his smile disappeared. He watched the female lead kiss another guy for a play they were holding. He watched the male lead leave the stage and he couldn’t help but feel seen at that moment. It was silly to find an anime to resonate with you. 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

She sighed at the phone and tossed it onto her table. It’s been two months and Taehyung is acting worse now. He barely texted her and when they were in the same room he barely talked to her. She knew she was lacking on her half of the chorus and she knew that all her reasons were sounding like excuses now. She didn’t want Taehyung to feel like she was taking advantage of him. That was the last thing she wanted him to feel. 

She walked out of her dressing room and entered the meeting room. She bowed to everyone and sat next to Jaehyun with a smile on her face, “Do you know what this meeting is for?”

Jaehyun shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his water, “I heard it’s about a scene.” 

“Scene?” 

The director let out a small cough and smiled at everyone, “The next scene is going to be a tough one. Jaehyun, you will have a stunt double jumping off a building while it’s raining. The scene itself is Baek-hyeon and Aera’s first kiss. Aera will kiss Baek-hyeon out of panic for his safety but Baek-hyeon will not acknowledge it because he knows it was out of panic. This scene is going to show Aera finally accepting her feelings towards Baek-hyeon. Today let’s take a break and come back tomorrow for this scene.” 

Y/N smiled at this and looked at Jaehyun, “Your first stunt double. That’s exciting.” 

“It is. I like the story so far.”

“I do too. You want to get lunch?”

“Lunch sounds good.”

They stood up and bowed to everyone as they made their way out of the office. Jaehyun opened the door for her and they headed towards a restaurant right across their building. They talked about random things, Jaehyun told her about his solo album that he was working on but he had no idea when it was going to come out. She told him that after this drama, she is going to take a small break and focus on her personal life. 

They sat together and clinked their beer bottles together, “Baek-hyeon!”

“Aera!~” 

She let out a small laugh and took her phone out to send a text to Taehyung, I’m eating with Jaehyun! I’ll be home in an hour. I love you.

Be safe. Love u. 

Taehyung stood in his bedroom and frowned at himself. This was the second dinner that Y/N missed. He knew it was his fault for not voicing his feelings but what was he supposed to say to her? “Stop hanging out with Jaehyun because I feel insecure.” That sounded ridiculous because he had no right to be insecure with their relationship. He had everything he could ask for. An apartment, a dog he loves, a girlfriend that he wants to marry someday, and a job that will help his family for the rest of his life. What more can he ask for? 

He got up and decided to take a quick walk around the neighborhood. The fresh air can help him clear his mind. He put the leash on Yeontan and locked up his house. The walk was nice. There was a light wind that put him at ease and the smell of the flowers made him think of Y/N. It was truly relaxing. 

Y/N let out a laugh and leaned back in her chair, “I would love to meet Mark. I think I would get along with him.” 

“I think so too.” 

She took the final sip of her beer and smiled, “I think I’m done for the night.” 

“Let me get you a ride.” 

Y/N shook her head and took her phone out, “I’ll do it. Don’t worry.” 

“No, let me. I want to make sure you get home safe.” 

“Fine, I’ll pay for your food next time.”

Jaehyun smiled at this and took his jacket off of his chair, “Perfect.”

Jaehyun waited for the car and opened the door for her and waved at her, “Have a good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Jae. Get home safely.” 

“I will.” 

Y/N leaned her head against the glass and let out a deep sigh. She was feeling better after going out and having fun. She didn’t think about her stress at home and was finally able to clear her mind. Maybe now she could tell Taehyung how much she missed him. She rushed her way into the building and she was so excited to see him that she didn’t notice her hair tie falling out of her hair. She opened the door and she smiled when she saw Taehyung in the living room holding Yeontan in his arms. 

She rushed towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist causing him to jump at the sudden action. He set Yeontan down and turned around to see Y/N already looking at him, “Y/N?”

“I missed you.” 

He smiled to himself and kissed the top of her head, “I missed you more.” 

“I have the rest of the night off.”

“You want to relax?” 

“Can we have a bath? We’ve been so busy and I just want to be in your arms.” 

He felt warmth spread through his body and wrapped his arms around her waist, “I’ll hold you.” 

Something within him changed and she felt his tight grip on her ass as he pushed her against the wall near the bathroom. He tasted the alcohol but he ignored it because all he saw was her, “T-Tae.” 

She gasped against his lips but hearing her say his name made his mind blinded with the need of her. His grip only tightened as he ground his hips against hers, “Y/N.”

“C-Can’t we go to the bedroom?” 

“No.” He muttered, lips moving down her neck with his teeth scraping over her collarbone, “I need you now.” 

He dragged her back to the couch with his hands already ripping off her clothes as he pushed her down into the cushions. The look in his eyes was something that she missed. It’s been a while since they had sex. It was due to their crazy work schedule but that all changes tonight, “I missed you.” 

He yanked off his shirt and smiled down at her, “Missed you more.” His hands traced every curve of her body, squeezing her thighs, and his rough fingers brushing over her nipples. He kissed down to her stomach and spread open her legs to get what he wanted. Her clit in his mouth, sucking on it like he was dying. The way he worked his tongue made sure she remembered what it was like to be with him. 

He stood up and cussed under his breath, “Let me get a condom.” 

“I-I’ll be here...” 

She watched him leave and she couldn’t help but laugh. She propped herself up on the couch with her on all fours waiting for him. When he entered back, he couldn’t help the smirk appearing. He slid the condom on and rubbed her back, “Good girl.” 

“Tae, I need you.” 

He didn’t bother with responding and pushed himself into her. He felt her pussy clenched around his cock and he couldn’t help but let out a groan, “I’m the only one that makes you feel like this.” 

“O-Only you.” 

“It’s always going to be me.” 

He let out another groan, sliding deeper into her. He missed this. Her in his arms and just loving each other. It was his fault but maybe the feelings will go away now that they're together. He looked down at her and seeing her whimper just made him feel his heart swell. He rubbed her hips gently as he continued to thrust into her. Her breath caught in her throat and a breathy gasp escaped. 

She spasmed around him and she felt her body shiver at the feeling. Taehyung put two fingers in her mouth and she would never deny him. He brought the fingers down to her clit, making her back arched. He felt himself release into the condom and he leaned down kissing her neck. They pressed their forehead together and he kissed her lips, “I love you.”

“I love you more. So much more, Y/N.” 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Taehyung, are you going to watch me film?” 

Taehyung smiled at her and nodded his head, “You watched me film for my music video. I need to do the same with you now.” 

Y/N smiled and nodded her head as she put her jacket on, “I’m excited. It’s one of the final scenes.” 

Taehyung put on his shoes and nodded his head, “Oh, what’s the scene?”

“Baek-hyeon and Aera kiss but they're not together yet. It’s just her realizing that she liked him.” 

“You're going to kiss Jaehyun today?” 

She turned towards him and nodded her head, “Yeah, it’s our first kissing scene and I’m hoping it’s a one-take.” 

Taehyung nodded his head and ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m hoping that too...”

She raised her eyebrow and tilted her head, “What was that?” 

“Nothing, just having a hard time putting my shoes on.” 

They got into his car and he couldn’t focus on anything she was talking about. He kept picturing her kissing Jaehyun. He knew it was for a show but seeing her kiss Jaehyun was different. She wanted Jaehyun on this project and he couldn’t let that go. She was so excited for him to be on this, how was going to focus?

“Tae, are you okay?”

He parked the car and turned towards her with a small smile, “I’m okay. Are you ready?”

“Always.” 

He sat in the background and he saw the chemistry that she had with Jaehyun. He felt his chest tighten when he saw Jaehyun pushing some hair back, touching her face gently. He watched Y/N wrap her arms around his neck and brought him into a kiss. The kiss was like their first kiss, shocking but passionate. He hated it. 

“CUT! ONE MORE TAKE!” 

This was going to kill him. He knows it. He leaned more into the chair and tried his best to ignore the kissing scene but he couldn’t help it. His eyes always moved up from his phone and watched Y/N kiss him. Over and over again. 

It's been a rule, if you date an actor or actress you have to be strong. Especially when you see them kissing another for their new drama. Why is it so hard to be strong?

Final Act [ Don’t Leave Me Please ] 

“Now my forever’s falling down’ - V, Sweet Night 

It was the early morning, the streets were still empty as the sun gently entered the buildings waking everyone up from their deep sleep. Y/N slowly opened her eyes when she heard a cabinet close from the bathroom. She let out a small groan and turned towards the clock on her nightstand, 07:35 am. She ran her hand through her messy hair as she let a deep sigh out. Today was supposed to be her day off, and so was Taehyung’s but it seems like things have changed.

She glanced at the door with a frown, the talk from last night was still clouding up her mind. There was something wrong but she can’t change anything if he doesn’t tell her anything. She quickly shook her head and picked up her phone to message Sejeong. 

How is he?

She looked up from the text and stared at the wall with a hard look. It was a simple question that had a complex answer. An answer that she doesn’t have, which made things harder. 

I don’t know...he hasn’t really talked to me since our conversation. 

Give him some time. 

 Taehyung stared at the mirror with a hard look. He didn’t get much sleep last night, who would? Seeing the person you love cry because of your own foolishness could keep anyone up. That’s what made things so hard, especially right now. He glanced down at the sink as he closed his eyes and the scene replayed right before him. 

Being center stage was normal for Taehyung. All eyes were on him as he expressed his feelings but this was different. The center stage that he became so familiar with was on fire and the only one that felt it was him. He stared at Y/N as she wiped tears away from her eyes, "Tae, why are you ignoring me?"

There was an answer but it couldn't leave his lips. He couldn't disappoint her....he couldn't see her eyes look at him with sadness or even pity. That would make him sick. All this was caused by his brain and nothing more.

He placed his hand on top of her knee and produced the best fake smile that he could muster, "I'm sorry love. I've been so tired."

Y/N glanced at his hand and then at his face, "Is that the truth?"

No..."Yes, let's go have dinner. I'm sorry I made you cry."

"Tae, just talk to me, please. I don't want to be left in the dark."

What kind of man am I? "You won't be in the dark."

I'll solve this for us, Y/N. Don't worry about my own foolishness. I'll become better for us.

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts when there was a knock at the door, “Baby, you’ve been in there for a long time...is everything okay?” 

His fingers gripped the countertop and let out a small cough, “I’m okay...I’ll be out in a few minutes.” 

“I’ll start breakfast...” 

He listened to her footsteps until the silence was choking him. He roughly ran his fingers through his hair as he was frustrated with himself. A foolish man with a brain that tortures him and it was all his fault. Nothing more and nothing less. 

Taehyung has been like this for weeks now. Ever since the kiss, she knew something was really wrong. Not even his members could answer her and that’s what made everything so frustrating. No one knew what was wrong with him. 

She was home now, filming was over with and she thought things would change but nothing. Taehyung was still acting like she wasn’t there. The next month would be when she would go overseas for the next episodes and she wouldn't see him. She needed to settle this now before things got worse. 

Taehyung entered the kitchen and she sighed at his aura. She turned towards him with her arms crossed, “Tae, Jae invited us to his concert tonight. I was thinking-”

“I don’t want to go.”

Y/N frowned at this and shook her head at this, “Why? It would be a good date-”

“I just don’t want to go. You can have fun with Jaehyun.” 

She rolled her eyes and took her breakfast, “Fine.” 

He watched her leave the kitchen and he couldn’t help but feel like shit. He continued to make her upset but she was doing this for her. If he didn’t see Jaehyun then he wouldn’t feel the way he does. It would benefit the both of them but he couldn’t tell her this. He didn’t want to explain how he felt. It was hard for him to understand, he still didn’t understand how he felt or maybe he did but he didn’t want to voice it. He looked down at his food and felt sick to his stomach, he kept fucking up and he hated himself for that. 

She ate in the living room and ignored him sitting next to her. She was just focusing on her phone and she texted Sejeong again. He doesn’t want to go to the concert with me.

Y/N...have you ever considered that he could be jealous?

What? Why would he be jealous? 

Just think about it.

She glanced up from her phone and then at him, jealous? Why would Taehyung be jealous? 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

The concert was amazing, she was finally going to meet NCT and she was so excited to do so. She was upset that Taehyung wasn’t with her but she tried her best to ignore that. She walked towards backstage and waved her hand at Jaehyun with excitement. She gave him a friendly hug and patted his back, “You were amazing out there.” 

“Thanks, Y/N, it means a lot. Did Taehyung not come?”

She frowned and shook her head, “He didn’t want to come.” 

“I’m sorry Y/N. I thought this concert would bring you two together...not push you further apart.” 

“What do you mean?”  

Jaehyun let out a small chuckle and shook his head, “You don’t see it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Y/N, Taehyung is jealous.”

She let out a small laugh and rolled her eyes, “He can’t be-”

“Why? Why can’t he feel jealous?” 

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him, “He’s never jealous. I tried making him jealous before we started dating and he never showed me signs.”

“He probably was jealous and never showed you...I would be jealous if I saw my girlfriend kiss another guy in front of me.”

“But he knows this is my job.”

Jaehyun shook his head at this, “It doesn’t matter. You can’t stop the heart.” 

Y/N looked down at the ground and then back at Jaehyun with a guilty face, “Oh my god...I noticed that he was acting differently but I always assumed it was because of me...I thought it was because I was working so much.” 

“This is why you guys talk to each other. You can solve a lot of problems by talking.”

Y/N let out a frustrated groan and shook her head, “Shut up, I don’t need this right now. I’m going home to fix it.” 

“Tell him I said hi.”

She ignored him and made her way out of the arena. She didn’t even realize how fast she was walking until she bumped into someone. She looked up to say sorry but her eyes widened when she saw who it was, “Taehyung?” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come with you. I was acting childish for not speaking up when something was wrong.”

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around his waist, “No, I’m stupid because I noticed something was wrong but I didn’t do anything to fix it.” 

“No, I didn’t voice anything to you. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” 

She was about to disagree but Taehyung brought her into a kiss, a sweet quick kiss. He put their foreheads together and smiled, “I’ll tell you more when we get home but I just needed to kiss you.” 

“I liked it...Jaehyun told me you were jealous. Before we go, can you tell me.”

Taehyung sighed and glanced at the wall with a guilty look, “Yeah...I was jealous. I’ll tell you more at home.” 

She nodded her head and made their way to his car, hand in hand. For the first time, they didn’t care if they were seen. The car ride was quiet as he moved his way in and out of the busy streets. She sat down on their couch and she looked up at him with eyes that made him feel safe. He ran his fingers through his hair and turned back at her, “I talked to Yoongi...”

“Oh? When?”

“When you left...”

Taehyung sighed to himself as he sat back on his bed. He felt guilty but he couldn’t see Y/N cheer for Jaehyun. It was too much for him. He grabbed his phone and dialed the person that always helped him, “Hello?”

“Hyung, I need help.”

Yoongi sighed into his phone, “Is everything okay? Did you do something stupid again-”

“I’m jealous of Jaehyun.”

“Wait, you're jealous?” 

Taehyung sighed and laid on the bed looking up at the ceiling with a blank face, “I’m jealous of seeing him with Y/N. It’s so stupid because I know it’s her job and all this-”

“Tae, you can’t control how you feel. It happens.”

“I never feel like this. I shouldn’t be jealous, I have everything I could ever ask for.”

Yoongi sighed again and Taehyung could imagine him shaking his head, “It doesn’t matter what you have, sometimes you can’t help it. It’s okay to feel like that but you have to tell Y/N. I’m going to guess you didn’t tell her.”

Taehyung rubbed his forehead roughly, “No...I was hiding it from her.”

“How long?”

“Four months....”

“Dude, you're stupid. Go talk to her, now. Before I go down there and cut your hair.” 

Y/N let out a small laugh and shook her head, “I can see Yoongi say that...Taehyung, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I felt like it was stupid. You were never jealous of what I do and I felt like if I was jealous...it would show you I’m not strong enough.”

Y/N stood up from the couch and stood in front of him. She pushed some hair back and shook her head, “You're strong to me. It makes you stronger when you talk about your feelings.” 

“I know that now...It was because you wanted Jaehyun on this project. You were so excited to be in this series that it made me feel...it made me feel jealous that you wanted him. I thought it was because you had feelings for him or something. It’s stupid.”

“Stop saying that, it’s not stupid. It’s how you feel. I wanted Jaehyun because he wanted me to help him with his acting. I also saw how well he acted in his tape and it would be stupid of me to deny him. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” 

“I just wanted to show you that I’m supportive.”

“I already knew that, Tae.”

She leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. He smiled at her and leaned his forehead against hers, “I asked for the next couple of months off so I could go with you to film.”

“Really!?”

He nodded his head and kissed the tip of her nose, “I’ll show you how I’m the supportive boyfriend. Even if I’m jealous sometimes...”

She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “My little jelly bean.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed some hair back, “Please don’t leave me.”

“I would never leave you...ever.”

Epilogue 

“I need you like a heart needs a beat” - One Republic

Y/N put her earring in when the dressing room door opened. She turned around and smiled, “You look great.”

Taehyung fixed his tie and smirked at her. He slowly walked up to her and one finger trailed from her cleavage to her chin, “I could say the same.”

She was wearing a black sequin dress that showed off her curves perfectly. Taehyung always went weak when she had bright red lipstick, it made him want to eat her out right there. Y/N pulled his tie to give him a quick kiss, “Are you going to be jealous tonight? You're going to see me kiss Jaehyun on the big screen.”

“Keep teasing me like that and I’ll make the press write an interesting story.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Why is Y/N limping?”

She felt her face get hot and she smacked his chest, “You're so annoying.” 

“But I’m yours.”

She let out a small laugh and wrapped her arms around his shoulder, “You're all mine. Forever.” As she said this, her ring shined under the dim dressing room light. The press was going to have a field day with that but they didn’t care. This was their universe and we were just living in it. 

[niteshade925]

April 12, Xi'an, China, Qinglong Temple/青龙寺 (Part 3 - History):

A model of Qinglong Temple in Tang dynasty (618 - 907 AD):

There must have been something like thirty engravings of famous poems about the temple lining the walls of the corridors. Below are three examples of these engravings, from these poems one can get a feel for how Qinglong Temple used to look like. A note on the translations: they are rather unpolished as I just wanted to get the meaning across.

《題青龍寺詩》 [唐] 朱慶餘 寺好因崗勢，登臨值夕陽。 青山當佛閣，紅葉滿僧廊。 竹色連平地，蟲聲在上方。 最憐東面靜，為近楚城墻。

Translation (by me):

"In Commemoration of Qinglong Temple" By Zhu Qingyu (Tang dynasty) The beauty of this temple comes from the mountains, By the time I summited it was already dusk. Verdant peaks behind temple buildings, Scarlet leaves filling the corridors. Bamboo groves connecting flat areas, Chirping of insects above it all. Only the east side remains still, Since it's close to the city walls.

《清明日青龍寺上方賦得多字》 [唐] 皇甫冉 上方偏可適，季月況堪過。 遠近水聲至，東西山色多。 夕陽留徑草，新葉變庭柯。 已度清明節，春秋如客何。

Translation (by me):

"Qingming Festival Above Qinglong Temple" By Huangfu Ran (Tang dynasty) It's comfortable up in the mountains, Watching the season pass by. Sounds of flowing water from near and far, Views of mountains from east and west. Setting sun upon the grassy path, Growing leaves cover the courtyard trees. Qingming Festival has come and gone, Just like the seasons and the temple visitors.

《青龍寺早夏》 [唐] 白居易 塵埃經小雨，地高倚長坡。 日西寺門外，景氣含清和。 閑有老僧立，靜無凡客過。 殘莺意思盡，新葉陰涼多。 春去來幾日，夏雲忽嵯峨。 朝朝感時節，年鬓闇蹉跎。 胡爲戀朝市，不去歸煙蘿。 青山寸步地，自問心如何。

Translation (by me):

"Early Summer at Qinglong Temple" By Bai Juyi (Tang dynasty) Light shower settled the dust, Temple grounds blending with the hills. Setting sun outside temple gates, The scene filled with an air of serenity. An old monk stands in idleness, There are no worldly passersby in the stillness. Remaining birds having sung their melodies, New leaves providing ample amounts of shade. End of spring was just days ago, Summer clouds are already towering above. Every day we feel the passing of seasons, Our hair graying in the meantime. Why obsess over bustling cities, When we can return to the lush countryside? These verdant mountains are but a corner of the world, Here I stand and reflect upon the state of my heart.

Huiguo and Kukai

In the first part I mentioned that Qinglong Temple was where Kukai/空海 studied Vajrayana Buddhism (the Chinese Esoteric tradition was also called "Tangmi"/唐密, since it was very popular in Tang dynasty) under Huiguo/惠果. Huiguo was a student of the famous Vajrayana Buddhist master and translator Amoghavajra (Chinese name Bukong/不空). Huiguo eventually became a master himself in the Chinese Esoteric tradition, and was an Acharya (Sanskrit term meaning teacher; translated phonetically as asheli/阿阇黎 in Chinese) who had many students from different places, including from surrounding countries. Kukai was one of his last notable students before he passed away. Kukai returned to Japan in 806 AD and founded the Shingon school of Buddhism/真言宗 (also sometimes called Eastern Esotericism/東密).

Kukai was also a calligrapher and a poet, below are two examples of his works (first is an ink rubbing of his calligraphy work titled "Buddha", second is his calligraphy work named Huushincho/風信帖; both were written in Chinese):

Closeup of Huushincho (from Wikipedia). The original is at Touji Temple in Kyoto, Japan.

Shōryō shu/Xinglingji/性靈集, a collection of kanshi by Kukai. Kanshi/漢詩 is a Japanese word for Chinese poetry. These books here are a gift from Japan.

Bunkyō hifu ron/Wenjingmifulun/文鏡秘府論 by Kukai which discusses Chinese poetry. These books are a gift from Japan.

There are also other gifts from Japan. Left is the top of a khakkhara staff (In Chinese and Japanese: xizhang/锡杖/錫杖, shakujō/錫杖). Right is a Vajra (in Chinese and Japanese: jingangchu/金刚杵/金剛杵, kongosho/金剛杵), this is a Vajrayana ritual object. This particular Vajra is commemorative and bears the names of Huiguo and Kukai:

And that's all for Qinglong Temple. Next up is another famous temple in Xi'an, Daci'en Temple/大慈恩寺.

[mcumorningstar]

His Muse

pairing: larry durrell x reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, erotic letters, body worship, oral (f receiving)

summary: after your relatives forbid you from seeing larry durrell, a series of notes begin to appear.

a/n: yes i snuck in an atonement reference🤭

Having relatives on the Greek Island of Corfu lent itself to the most brilliant summers a girl could ask for.

Swimming in the crystal blue ocean, running through the cobbled streets of the town centre, picking fresh fruit at the market and riding donkeys along the beach.

A girl. Not a woman.

The summer of your 18th year you were worked until your bones were sore and your cheeks ached from the forced smiles.

For three consecutive summers, you worked at your auntie and uncle’s bar as a waitress. Men often flirted with you or asked to take you out. Unless you wanted to face the wrath of your uncle, you always refused.

That was until Larry Durrell sidled up to the bar, folding his sunglasses into the pocket of his shirt and placing his book on the bar top.

“Two of your finest whiskeys,” He ordered with a cheerful grin.

After an all-day shift, you simply nodded and retrieved his order, like a well-oiled machine.

“My name is Larry Durrell,” He announced to fill the silence, “I’m an author. Are you native to the island?”

“I moved here two months ago,” You smiled forcefully, too exhausted from the sun and workload for conversation.

“How wonderful! I can show you around if you’d like,” Larry leaned forward onto the bar, a striking smirk across his lips, “I have lived here for almost a year.”

“That won’t be necessary,” You replied, exchanging the drinks for his money.

“Are you sure? I know some excellent spots,” He sipped his drink and raised his eyebrows.

There was an air of confidence surrounding Larry and it was hard not to get sucked into his natural charm.

“What’s your book about?”

He faltered for a moment before sunshine burst from his features and he grinned giddily, “What isn’t it about! I can bring you a copy if you’d like?”

He lit up with hope and so you nodded politely, “Yes but you’ll have to bear with me, I work a lot.”

Larry shook his head, “I wouldn’t worry about that. More reason to visit you.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

Larry chanced a look outside where his brother Leslie was sat before reaching over to brush his fingers over yours, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Yes.

Swatting a dish cloth and yelling with a thick Greek accent and broken English (although it was miles better than your Greek), your uncle ran over, “No! She not interested! Go away!”

Larry backed away with a boyish laugh, grabbing his book and rushing across the cobbles with Leslie. Biting your lip, you fought back girlish giggles.

He flashed you a cheeky grin and a small wave before he disappeared around the corner. Your uncle grumbled to himself, wildly gesticulating with his hands.

“He is trouble! He is English! Stay away from him!” He jabbed a finger at you. Ordinarily, he was a lovely and generous man but you were under his care while you were in Corfu.

Nodding, you got back to work, hoping to see Larry Durrell again.

A few days later, a book appeared on the bar top while you were serving customers. There was no sign of Larry other than his name in bold print on the front cover of the novel.

It was hours later that you sat on the beach and thumbed through your new gift when a hand-written note slipped from the pages.

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

The following stanzas were written and attributed to Lord Byron. You didn’t know what most of it meant but a girly giggle fell from your lips as you covered your mouth.

He sent you a love poem. What a gentleman.

After the first note, he began to visit you in the alley behind the bar, only able to steal a few minutes of your time.

More notes began to appear over the following few weeks, either handed to you directly or tucked away for you to find.

“Tell me, my darling. I want to know everything about you.”

“My beautiful, exquisite darling. Starry nights are reminiscent of your glittering eyes.”

“You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read." — Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Hand-written notes piled up in the box under your bed, and you reread them over and over. Larry was a writer, an artist, and you were seemingly his muse.

Three weeks after your initial meeting, you bumped into Larry in town with his brother.

“Good morning Durrells,” You smiled, offering your hand to Leslie and introducing yourself to him.

Larry smirked at you, “Are you working today? I was thinking about going swimming.”

You nodded disappointedly, “But I finish at 11 if you fancy a night swim.”

Leslie guffawed, “That’s very unsafe. Mother will crucify you!”

Larry sighed with frustration. Leslie grinned, amused by his brother’s obvious affections and embarrassment.

Another note appeared later that night, rolled and sticking to the rim of a beer glass.

“Meet with me. Prepare for a swim.”

Larry smoked a cigarette on the patio of his family home, overlooking the ocean. He smiled when he saw you and pointed towards the path to the beach.

“Hello,” He whispered as soon as you were close enough, “How was work?”

“Tiring but I’m glad to be here… with you,” You whispered back, only raising your voice when you were far enough from the house.

God forbid you wake his family. What a mortifying way to meet them.

“Well then, I will refrain from challenging you to a race to the water,” His shoulder bumped yours, his smile infectious.

“You will do no such thing,” You shoved him and raced off down the beach.

Piles of your belongings were strewn about the beach, as you ran along the stone pier and jumped into the ocean in your underwear.

Larry rose from the water, shaking droplets of water from his curls. Swimming back to shore, he broke the silence, “Don’t ogle me too much when we get out. It’s very cold so I’m not on top form down there.”

You were in a fit of laughter, echoing around the high walls of the cliff.

Wrapping you in his arms, your back to his chest, Larry carried you onto the shore. He laid his shirt out for you to sit on, wrapping an arm around your back.

Although the sky was dark, the warm air brushed against your wet skin pleasantly.

“I finished your book,” You leaned against his chest, staring out at the glistening black water. Larry’s eyes burned into your skull as he awaited your thoughts.

“It was good. Filthy but good.”

Larry’s chest bounced as he laughed, “Leslie thinks I’m obsessed with sex. He once stole the X from my typewriter to stop me writing about it.”

“A fruitless effort, it seems,” You teased.

“I’m not. I write about it, and think about it, and talk about it but I don’t actually do it all that much,” Larry pulled back to meet your eyes.

Nodding, you smiled, “Sounds a little obsessive.”

“Well yes maybe,” He conceded bashfully, returning to your lax position against one another.

“Did you bring a towel?” You were never going to dry off in the moonlight.

Larry clicked his tongue and shook his head, the realisation dawning on him.

Hand in hand, Larry crept into his family home and left you in his bedroom as he went to retrieve towels, dripping salt water onto the floor.

The house was silent and it was slightly eerie, but Larry’s room was lit with a few candles. The warm glow was comforting.

Pages of paper spread across his desk and spilled onto the floor. A fountain pen sat in an inkwell and his typewriter sat pristinely in the centre. Books of all colours and sizes littered the shelves and floor.

Despite your efforts, you couldn’t help but have a closer look. A page of typed words sat in the typewriter, half-finished. Probably for his next novel.

The books beside his bed were a mixture of novels, notebooks and an… erotic poetry book.

Your interest was piqued. His novel was quite filthy so this wasn’t a shock and yet you found yourself thumbing through the pages.

Clippings of notes were hidden between the pages, all hand-written in Larry’s familiar cursive.

“I long to see you. I fear worsening the situation if I pose as a customer at the bar but my skin itches to feel the heat of your skin on mine. I burn for you.”

“Pillowed upon my fair love’s ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever — or else swoon in death.” - Keats

“I want to kiss your cunt. Your sweet cunt.”

You failed to suppress a scandalised gasp. The door creaked open and you scrambled to put the notes back in the book.

Larry stared as you put the book back on his nightstand, avoiding his eyes.

There was no hiding your sudden shock. At least he had the decency to give you a sheepish smile.

“Did I mentioned Leslie thinks I’m obsessed with sex?” He attempts to joke, gesturing to the book with pink cheeks.

“I read your novel, Larry. I don’t know why I’m so… surprised.”

Silence stretched between you as you ran the towel over your sopping hair.

“I’ll walk you home.”

Something burned inside of you, igniting an unfamiliar but powerful flame. You reached for Larry’s forearm to halt him but refrained from touching him.

“Have you done that before?” You asked, forcing your eyes to stay on his, anxiously twisting your fingers.

Larry furrowed his eyebrows at you. Taking a breath, you searched through the poetry book and held open the page to show him the last note.

Silence hung in the air to taunt you, as he scanned the page.

“I have,” was Larry’s answer, closing the book and tossing it aside.

The space between you stretched for what felt like miles, and you desperately wanted to reach out to him.

Wordlessly, Larry stepped towards you and tossed your towel onto his desk chair before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Call me a philandering bastard, a pervert, and this all stops,” He softly spoke, warm breath fanning across your face. Green eyes traced your features for any signs of uncertainty.

Rising onto your tiptoes, you pressed a soft kiss to Larry’s lips. He didn’t react at first, savouring your decision.

He was quick to press his lips firmer against yours, introducing his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

His movements were so slow and sensual, licking into your mouth and kneading the fat of your hips.

Stepping backwards, you pulled him by his shirt to follow, warm bodies pressed together.

“Thought about this, ever since that first day,” Larry whispered hotly against the skin of your neck, kissing along the column of your throat.

Large hands lowered to grab at your ass, as you let your hands wander across the covered planes of his chest and stomach.

“Me too,” You whispered despite your nerves. It was barely audible but Larry pulled back to meet your wanting gaze.

Silently, he watched your features morph into something he had never seen from you. A pout on your lips and your brows pulled together. Want.

Larry kissed you again, passion and heat, as he lowered you onto his bed. The metal bed frame creaked loudly, groaning out in agony, and Larry winced.

“Your family…” You pressed a hand to his chest as he joined you on top of the sheets, pulling you against him. Larry just shook his head.

Warmth emanated from him, as his body covered yours, lying between your spread legs. The soft pass of his fingers brushed your hair out of your face and he kissed you, any thoughts of anything but him escaping your mind.

Larry pulled his shirt off, revealing his surprisingly toned and tanned torso, before urging you to do the same.

Clothes piled on the floor by his bed until you were both in your underwear, caressing warm skin and kissing like you were drunk on each other.

Hovering above you, Larry lowered his mouth to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth before lowering to your chest.

Soft gasps and moans tumbled from your lips at his attentive kisses, unhooking your bra and tossing it away.

His warm tongue circled your nipple, sucking and catching it between his teeth, before moving to the other. Large hands toyed with the seam of your panties, ignoring the desperate squirm of your hips.

Instinctively, you snaked a hand into his black curls and tugged at the strands softly. Larry pulled away with a soft ‘pop’ and gave you a wicked smirk.

His spit-soaked lips continued their descent down your stomach, littering your hipbones with red and soon-to-be purple marks.

“You’re ethereal… my goddess,” Larry stared in awe, resting his chin on the lowest point of your stomach to watch your chest heave, your skin flush and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Larry… please,” You whined, rutting your hips involuntarily and fisting your hand in his hair.

Kissing over the front of your panties, Larry pulled them down your legs and immediately lost them in the tangled bedsheets.

He positioned himself on his stomach between your legs, manhandling each leg over his shoulders.

His warm breath on your inner thighs made you shiver, combing your fingers through his hair.

Without warning, Larry pressed his mouth to your heated skin and licked a stripe from your weeping hole to your throbbing clit.

Plump lips closed around the bundle of nerves and sucked softly, laving his tongue wetly. A loud gasp escaped your lips and you quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, panting deeply.

Larry repeated his movements, gripping your writhing hips firmly to hold you in place as your heels dug into his shoulder blades.

Sweat beaded on your skin and a rush of moans were poorly repressed. A string of spit fell from Larry’s lips, mixing with your arousal, before he resumed his ministrations.

The coil deep and low in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. You struggled to stay quiet, moans and whimpers of his name bouncing off the walls of his bedroom, and Larry was too thrilled to silence you.

Fisting roughly at his hair, you pushed him further against your sex, eliciting deep groans from him that vibrated against you.

One of his hands snaked up your torso, palming your tits before hooking two fingers into your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. Lust-darkened eyes watched you fall into a pit of pleasure as he licked and sucked at you.

The band pulled taut until it eventually snapped, your back arching off the mattress.

A loud cry erupted from your chest, muffled slightly by Larry’s thick fingers in your mouth. Your leg straightened over his shoulder and your thighs caged his head at the intense wash of bliss.

With a heaving chest and sweaty skin, you slowly came down from your high. Limply you untangled your hand from his hair and let him pull your legs from his shoulders. You were boneless and pliant beneath him, smiling lazily at him.

Larry smirked, kissing up your body before kissing your lips softly. He lay beside you as you both panted with pleased grins.

His erection tented his boxers but he stared at the ceiling with as much satisfaction as you, wiping his slick-covered mouth with the back of his hand.

Aside from your heavy breathing, silence filled the room until Larry turned his head to face you and you mirrored him, erupting into giddy giggles.

The first man to eat you out and make you cum.

Larry wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders and pulled you against his chest.

He kissed your head softly and whispered, “Satisfied?”

“Very,” You kissed his chest, your breath slowly evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut at the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

Larry pulled your leg over his hips, getting into a comfy position cuddled up against the pillows.

Thoughts about leaving before his family discovered you escaped your mind as Larry smoothed a hand up and down your thigh, slowly drifting to sleep.

No matter how forbidden he was, you would be seeing Larry Durrell every chance you got.

[goodluckclove]

Stop Calling Yourself an Aspiring Author: A Proposition

So this post is dedicated to @dreambigdreamz, who asked me a question about when you can stop calling yourself an aspiring author. I had to wait until I could go to sleep to properly answer, because this is going to be a long one, probably. I'm actually doing this before I get to work for the day, because if I could get one goddamned person to stop labeling themselves like this I will feel success for at least three days.

It's a question for new writers - the difference between a writer and an author. If you Google the difference it appears there are two camps:

Writer and author are synonyms

You are only an author if you publish your work/write as a career

This is odd to me already. It's odd and it's immediately gatekeep-y, and it's so fucking surreal that ours is the only artistic field that has this strange distinction. For most other outlets there's still a separation between hobbyist and professional, but that's considered optional as far as I've seen.

Someone who paints or does digital art isn't likely to call themselves a hobbyist artist, even if they aren't doing it as their main source of income. They're just an artist.

If someone practices the piano but isn't actively in a performing band or symphony, they probably don't call themselves an aspiring pianist. They're already doing it. They're a pianist.

I briefly considered cook versus chef, but in that context cook doesn't necessarily mean amateur. There are line cooks and prep cooks and fry cooks and sauté cooks who work professionally. I have the qualifications of a prep or line cook, but I'm currently only cooking meals at home. So does that mean I'm an aspiring cook? That's weird. That doesn't sound right.

So by this point it should be clear that I find it deeply reductive to say that you can only call yourself an author if you've professionally published a work of writing. Maybe that was the case, like, a hundred years ago? Even then, though, one of the definitions of author is a verb describing the act of writing something. You could author a scientific paper. You could author a poem.

It's 2002. The scope of what it means to publish is infinitely vaster than it was in the days of Virginia Woolf or Ernest Hemingway. You could traditionally publish your novel - that's still an option. But you could also indie-publish. Or self-publish. Or produce your own zines or chapbooks and distribute them online. Or send our newsletters on platforms like Substack. Or serialize through websites like Wattpad, Tapas, Itch.io, Patreon, AO3, or even tumblr.

I never called myself an author, but my reasons have nothing to do with whether or not I've been published. I prefer writer, as it has a more versatile feel that tracks whether I'm working on a novel or a poem or a play. But that's beside the point.

Personally, I'm in the first camp. Writer and author are essentially synonymous, only in my eyes an author is someone who writes fiction or nonfiction prose. That's it. Have you done that? Cool. Good job no longer being "aspiring".

If you have the words aspiring author in your life somewhere, there's a good chance you're actively gatekeeping yourself from feeling good enough to do your own thing. Why not replace it with something like the following?

future bestseller

soon-to-be published

new author/writer

growing author/writer

developing author/writer

practicing author/writer

author/writer in training

just author/writer

If someone does the whole "you're a writer? what have you published?" welcome to the conversation that all writers have to tolerate at some point. People are dumb. People typically don't know our industry and how it functions, and that's fine. Just smile and nod and shrug your way out of the conversation.

Yes, there's infighting within writers who should very much be spending less time arguing who gets to wear the nametag and who doesn't. Those people are lame dipshits who should shut the fuck up and get back to writing. If you have a passion for writing, be it fanfic or scripts or short stories or novels, you are my peer and colleague. I might not like the structure or content of your writing - which is fine, by the way - but I would never even say that you aren't a writer holy shit.

I don't care if you use every genre and trope that I find trite and excessive. If you genuinely care about the stories you tell and you still present yourself as an aspiring author, you have a duty to take yourself more seriously than that.

You are a writer. You are an author. This should not be a question.

We need to move past this and start asking ourselves the real questions that come after you answer "Am I an author". Am I a safe author? Am I an advocate and an ally? Am I a supportive member of the community? Am I still learning? Am I a capable author? Am I adaptable? Am I resourceful? Am I determined?

I'm running out of steam here. I need the writers here, especially the younger writers, to move past this stage of their creative careers as quickly as fucking possible. I was there too. I get it. And I'm telling you it's time to soak the label of aspiring so as to loosen the adhesive, gently peel it off, and throw it in the trash forever. Don't even keep it for sentimental reasons to look back on later.

Toss it. Burn it. Eat it. It is not helping you.

Okay that's all. You should close this now and write three hundred words of whatever the fuck you want. I love you.

[and-her-saints]

Hey sorry idk if you'd know this but I quite literally don't know where to turn about this so I'm sending this ask to every queer+catholic blog I can find

Are there *any* resources out there for queer/trans Catholics that go beyond affirmation and show how to pursue a religious life that goes beyond the laity (e.g. priesthood, joining a convent/monastery, something similar) without having to brush your queerness aside. I feel like if I don't find something soon I might go insane

years ago, i attended a Zoom event with Fr. James Alison as a keynote speaker, and something he said has been glued to my brain ever since. he said it in Spanish, so i'll try to remember, paraphrase and translate: "while they try to get us to stop being queer, what we must try to do is to be better queers."

i love what you said about "beyond affirmation" and that is precisely why i got reminded of the quote and WHY this quote resonated with me to begin with.

imho, there is a fundamental issue with a lot of queer theology and it's that it doesn't go beyond apologetics. it's not pragmatic nor does it seem to engage critically with the material conditions that work with or against queerness. and it's truly such a shame, because living "religiously" to me, as a queer catholic, it's infinitely more a matter of coherence, love, devotion and solidarity, than learning how to "reconcile" gayness/transness with the Bible.

it's a journey, of course. the apologetics were and are necessary for many of us to unlearn the hatred that might've been instilled in us through religious education and upbringing. however, here are some resources that, in my opinion, show how to pursue queer-religious-life.

💌 catholic/christian resources:

[book] The Reckless Way of Love: Notes on Following Jesus by Dorothy Day. Unlike larger collections and biographies, which cover her radical views, exceptional deeds, and amazing life story, this book focuses on a more personal dimension of her life: Where did she receive strength to stay true to her God-given calling despite her own doubts and inadequacies and the demands of an activist life? What was the unquenchable wellspring of her deep faith and her love for humanity?

[book & account] Black Liturgies: Prayers, Poems, and Meditations for Staying Human by Cole Arthur Riley. Black Liturgies is a digital project that connects spiritual practice with Black emotion, Black memory, and the Black body. In this book, she brings together hundreds of new prayers, along with letters, poems, meditation questions, breath practices, scriptures, and the writings of Black literary ancestors to offer forty-three liturgies that can be practiced individually or as a community.

[book] Cry of the Earth, Cry of the Poor by Leonardo Boff. Focusing on the threated Amazon of his native Brazil, Boff traces the economic and metaphysical ties that bind the fate of the rain forests with the fate of the indigenous peoples and the poor of the land. He shows how liberation theology must join with ecology in reclaiming the dignity of the earth and our sense of a common community, part of God's creation. To illustrate the possibilities, Boff turns to resources in Christian spirituality both ancient and modern, from the vision of St. Francis of Assisi to cosmic christology.

[book] Undoing Theology: Life Stories from Non-normative Christians by Chris Greenough. The fundamental issue with ‘queer’ research is it cannot exist in any definable form, as the purpose of queer is to disrupt and disturb. Undoing Doing generates a process of ‘undoing’ as central to queer research enquiries. Aiming to engage in a process which breaks free from traditional academic norms, the text explores three life stories

[podcast] The Magnificast. "A weekly podcast about Christianity and leftist politics. The Magnificast is hosted by Dean Dettloff and Matt Bernico. Each week's episode focuses on a unique or under-realized aspect of territory between Christianity and politics that no one taught you about in sunday school."

💌 non-christian but still excellent resources:

[book] Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H. A memoir by a butch hijabi that follows the experiences of the author through stories and figures from the Qur'an.

[book] Lean on Me: A Politics of Radical Care by Lynne Segal. Questions of care, intimacy, education, meaningful work, and social engagement lie at the core of our ability to understand the world and its possibilities for human flourishing. In Lean On Me feminist thinker Lynne Segal goes in search of hope in her own life and in the world around her. She finds it entwined in our intimate commitments to each other and our shared collective endeavours.

i don't think these are precisely what you were looking for. but i hope these resources bring you as much peace and hope as they have brought me.

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/10/2024

someone adopt this little orange man from me in Houston TX! more details here!

listening

the 1991 Ella Mae Morse compilation Capitol Collectors Series is the official driving-cats-to-the-vet album bc it is so mellow but still fun. this album has previously been featured several times in tuesdayposts but i think you should all listen to it again.

seven thousand three hundred days IS a long long time to sleep ur so right ella

-

reading

two different works that annoyed me: Emily Hamilton's The Stars Too Fondly. my first clue should have been that this is my least favorite poem, bc ppl would quote it to me smugly after my mom died. im sure they thought they were being so super comforting to a budding astronomer, but, much like how i can no longer eat lasagna bc ppl gave us Twenty! Party! Size! Platters! Of! Lasagna! after my mom died (they would just Appear on our front porch, frozen), too much of this poem really soured me.

i had this book on hold Forever and then delayed delivery twice bc i have not felt like reading lately. here's the publisher's description:

In her breathtaking debut—part space odyssey, part sapphic rom-com—Emily Hamilton weaves a suspenseful, charming, and irresistibly joyous tale of fierce friendship, improbable love, and wonder as vast as the universe itself. So, here’s the thing: Cleo and her friends really, truly didn’t mean to steal this spaceship. They just wanted to know why, twenty years ago, the entire Providence crew vanished without a trace. But then the stupid dark matter engine started all on its own, and now these four twenty-somethings are en route to Proxima Centauri, unable to turn around, and being harangued by a snarky hologram that has the face and attitude of the ship’s missing captain, Billie. Cleo has dreamt of being an astronaut all her life, and Earth is kind of a lost cause at this point, so this should be one of those blessings in disguise that people talk about. But as the ship gets deeper into space, the laws of physics start twisting, old mysteries come crawling back to life, and Cleo’s initially combative relationship with Billie turns into something deeper and more desperate than either woman was prepared for. Lying somewhere in the subspace between science fantasy and sapphic rom-com, The Stars Too Fondly is a soaring near-future adventure about dark matter and alternate dimensions, leaving home and finding family, and the galaxy-saving power of letting yourself love and be loved.

should be catnip for me, right? wrong. starts out as a chat fic, which i hate.

i had a lot of trouble finishing the first chapter, which also has an extended third-person omniscient narrator flashback in italics, a thing i also hate. i KNOW you can figure out how to integrate this information into the book in a better way instead of dumping it in my lap.

i think part of why this is not hitting like i wanted is the tone, because i think this veers more new adult than i was really hoping for. i think introducing a big group all at once is very hard to do effectively. i do not like a series of character introductions that feel like they are trying to sell me action figures. or perhaps blind-bag figures. i do not like a six-deep list of cheesy puns about someone's name. i do not have the patience to see if this debut novel finds its footing a little later on, though i am glad a sapphic ghost in the machine romance exists in this world.

i also read dean motter's mister x (both the original late eighties through early nineties run and the 2008 follow-on).

let's yoink the description from wikipedia:

Set in Radiant City, a dystopian municipality influenced by Bauhaus and Fritz Lang's Metropolis, the series concerns a mysterious figure who purports to be its architect. His radical theories of "psychetecture" cause the citizenry to go mad, just as he did, and he takes on the mission to repair his creation. To accomplish this he remains awake twenty-four hours a day by means of the drug "insomnalin", all the while coping with a Dick Tracy–like rogues gallery and supporting cast including his long-suffering ex-girlfriend Mercedes. (ed note: the redhead in the santa beard below)

the art in this comic book is really and truly stunning. everyone was firing on all cylinders. beautiful retrofuturistic advertisement vibes, very fun play with panels and word balloons while still being readable, there are airships, you know how it is. looooooooove a hardboiled noir.

the Concept of mister x, this horrible awful futuristic city that grinds its citizenry up and spits them out? both figuratively and sometimes literally? love it!!! love a great wounded beast of a city as a character!!!

unforch the "who is mister x" subplot does not resolve in a satisfying way, imo. there's a lot of flip-flopping, there's a lot of options, he ends up being (maybe?) someone he was very definitively proven NOT to be in an earlier issue, and it really soured me on the whole experience. and also i don't believe it! that specific person makes no fucking sense! who mister x is, is by far the least interesting part of the series. tell me more about how he's fixing the city. show me more of the city. shut up and dance, robot artists

-

watching

X-Men: Apocalypse (2016, dir. Singer). this movie did not need to be two and a half hours long. appreciated the EXTREMELY divorced energy from charles & erik though, quicksilver rescuing the school scene was also very fun. my bestie's husband has informed me we are NOT watching Dark Phoenix, i'm not sure if we're going to loop back and watch the ??? number of wolverine films or if we're going to see how i feel about deadpool. bc i find this character insufferable through clips only.

-

playing

there is a feature in the video game genshin impact to turn your World Level (TM) down in order to make overworld enemies a little easier. i am at seven out of nine bc i genuinely can't finish the boss to unlock world level 9, and i am finding some of the overworld enemies too hard at 8 and want to finish the achievements in a more relaxed fashion.

-

making

this is going to be a lot of previously posted pics so bear with me.

saturday morning/saturday evening. plants? repotted. porch and stairs? swept. old wasp nests? knocked down. different mirror on the porch to go out to the curb when i have the energy? yes. also a giant slab of engineered stone from the top of a dresser but that's out of frame.

speaking of the giant broken dresser that was in my apartment when i moved in just over a year ago, i ripped it apart with a crowbar and threw it in the dumpster. put my pretty zebrawood desk in the empty space and started thinking about what to hang on that wall. the wall across from it is maps, bc i think a cozy office should have lots of maps and it makes a good video conference background. maybe this will be the dedicated cowboy nonsense wall. i did so much dusting and vacuuming and mopping and the girls can't even hang out in here bc the orange boy is in the office bathroom. big sigh.

also a lot of driving around and emailing and calling thirty shelters and rescues figuring out how to get this orange man a home. please take this orange man off my hands.

[evidence-based-activism]

(Brief) Historical Pornography

Context for this post.

So, the claim that "pornography has been around forever and therefore it's okay" is erroneous in two ways:

(1) Just because something has been around forever doesn't mean it's good. (Imagine if it were mainstream to defend slavery or child murder on the grounds that it's always existed.)

(2) The pornography that exists now is not the same as the pornography that existed 1,000 (or even 100) years ago. Putting aside the depictions of violence, a video or picture of a real women is not the same as a painting on a cave wall or poem about sex. It's likely both help perpetuate misogyny (videoed pornography definitely does and it's likely at least some drawn pornography also has this effect*), but modern pornography inherently involves the abuse and exploitation of women.

(*Realistically, it is possible that drawn/written pornography may only have this effect under certain circumstances (e.g., when it's violent, when the consumer is a child, etc.). That is, the relationship may be closer to that of mass media, which I've discussed in the past. We'd probably need a drastically different sociopolitical landscape and internet infrastructure before we could reliably obtain results on this topic (i.e., because of the current saturation of mainstream pornography in society).)

A few quick sources (see my #sex industry tag for many more):

FightTheNewDrug has a good overview on how modern pornography is different today than in the past [1]

This Reuters article describes how non-consensual pornography has been found on OnlyFans, with little legal repercussion [2]

This Justice Department press release documents Pornhub's involvement with human sex trafficking [3]

This USAToday news article discusses a woman's work to expose and combat sex trafficking in pornography including Pornhub (she also wrote a book!) [4]

---

All of this is to say: modern day mainstream porn has not existed forever and, even if it did, that doesn't make it okay.

But by all means, print out some cave paintings and read the Song of Songs. (I expect you already know the difference.)

References below the cut:

Fight the New Drug. (2024). The problem with saying that porn has always existed. Web Archive. https://web.archive.org/web/20240816180559/https://fightthenewdrug.org/the-problem-with-saying-that-porn-has-always-existed/

Reuters. (2024). OnlyFans and sex: Legal cases. Web Archive. https://web.archive.org/web/20240816180623/https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/onlyfans-sex-legal-cases/

U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of New York. (2024). Pornhub parent company admits to receiving proceeds from sex trafficking and agrees to three-year probation. Web Archive. https://web.archive.org/web/20240816180737/https://www.justice.gov/usao-edny/pr/pornhub-parent-company-admits-receiving-proceeds-sex-trafficking-and-agrees-three-year

Mickelwait, L. (2024). Pornhub videos and sex trafficking: A call to action. USA Today. Web Archive. https://web.archive.org/web/20240816180708/https://www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/columnist/2024/07/28/pornhub-videos-sex-trafficking-laila-mickelwait/74532636007/

[garadinervi]

Mosab Abu-Toha, Younger Than War, «The Atlantic», November 9, 2023

Younger Than War Mosab Abu-Toha Tanks roll through dust, through eggplant fields. Beds unmade, lightening in the sky, brother jumps to the window to watch warplanes flying through clouds of smoke after air strikes. Warplanes that look like eagles searching for a tree branch to perch on, catch breath, but these metal eagles are catching souls in a blood/bone soup bowl. No need for radio. We are the news. Ants’ ears hurt with each bullet fired from wrathful machine guns. Soldiers advance, burn books, some smoke rolled sheets of yesterday’s newspaper, just like they did when they were kids. Our kids hide in the basement, backs against concrete pillars, heads between knees, parents silent. Humid down there, and heat of burning bombs adds up to the slow death of survival. In September 2000, after I had bought bread for dinner, I saw a helicopter firing a rocket into a tower as far from me as my frightful cries when I heard concrete and glass fall from high. Loaves of bread went stale. I was still 7 at the time. I was decades younger than war, a few years older than bombs.

«I wrote this poem last year, reflecting on my childhood under Israeli military occupation. I'm now staying in Jabalia, a United Nations refugee camp, with my wife and three kids. I'm reading this poem to myself and wondering if my children will be able to write poems about the bombs and explosions they are seeing. I was 8 the first time I witnessed a rocket. Now my youngest child, born in America in May 2021, is living through the third wave of Israeli bombing. Not only are he and his older brother and sister smelling death around them, but they have also lost their house in Beit Lahia 10 days ago. Luckily no one was at home. My son Yazzan, who is 8 years old, asks me, "Are our toys still alive?"» – Mosab Abu-Toha

[antebellumite]

tumblr fake posts but it's exclusively the US congress 1830s-50s. this will probably not make sense to anyone. it barely makes sense to me: [this is a long post. press j to skip]:

12 notes

forthurricane

guys help three senators from my party are outside my door and its a sunday and im scared i think they want something.

forthurricane

they want me to blackmail the president.

2 notes

henrywisingitup Follow

ohhhh goddddd ok so the coworker that called me a slur at work a few days ago IN PUBLIC just got a duel challenge from a friend of mine aslkdf. istg i hate him so much he's so annoying and he needs to resign or kill himself immediately. i hope he accepts the challenge fucking dies or gets shot up. good RIDDENCE fucking turd pile of trash empty bladder dung beetle puppy bastard LIAR. welliamgravely Follow

what'd he call you?

henrywisingitup Follow

an aboliti*nist.

congressionalglobe

Congblr Heritage Post. #congblr heritage post #senblr heritage post #houseblr heritage post #lmao remember when abolitionist was a slur guys #thank u pierceuinfiftytwo #i hate this post #and i think u do too #mod greeley

346,356 notes

Anonymous asked hi i'm sorry if i'm bothering you with this ask but i'm kinda new to this whole politics thing ( was just recently elected by my constituents so this is my first term ) and i would like to know how to get started on congblr? i've been recently appt to the house and i'd love to engage more with the community. do u have any blogs you'd suggest to me? bunnybrownfrench

hi anon!!!! i'm so glad you're here and in the house too ! ( it's where i am- frankly the Better House of Congress too while we're at it ). sadly i don't know what politics or party u have and i mostly scurry round the democrat side of the aisle more than anything, so i might not be able to help u that much, but i can try to give you some good ones!

@/gowestyoungman is a good source for news, and i'm personally a fan of @/mattbradydaggeurotype but @/geopeteralexhealy has some great portraits! obviously anyone has to follow @/oldhickory if they're a dem ( or even a whig ) they have great posts, lots of drama and thought provoking articles. a vv funny scroll. @/greatcompromiser is on the opposite side as a whig, but always sophisticated in their arguments, with nice shitposts in between to lighten the mood if you're uneasy about the american system.

@/jquincy and @/oldbullion are mostly serious blogs and if you're a westward expansion fellow, they're top blogs for u to follow. a bit hard at times, but personally i think they have great humor to make up for it ( unlike @/castironman though if you're here for what he posts all the more strength to u i suppose). @/redfoxkinderhook is also a good blog but they rarely post ( and never anything personal). @/godlikedan is my personal favorite blog. they have everything on there- drama, shitposts, detailed analysis, longposts, important info, aesthetics, etc.

for the rest tho anon, i'll leave it up to you! go out and explore! find the blogs u like; i wish u the best of luck!

15 notes

greatcompromiser hey guys, look at this BEAUTIFUL new commission i just got from @/mattbradydaggeurotype! it was wonderful to work with you, matt! <333

oldbullion

every day i wake up.

#body horror

555 notes

gallerywatcher Follow

why he kinda......

robrhett Follow

this bitch thirsting over baldy mcuseless LMAO

gallerywatcher Follow

hearing strong words from a guy whos blog is devoted to john c calhoun

244 notes

jrandolphofroanoke

i have herpes. greatcompromiser

yeah? and????? we know.

jrandolphofroanoke

IN MY EYES. IN MY EYES.

135 notes

bunnybrownfrench asked: orgies in hell over secession!! dailyaskstotheussenate

i forgot i asked for poem recommendations for a moment.

0 notes

#ask #bunnybrownfrench

castironman follow It is with great misfortune that I continue the discourse of the past week, but due to recent actions by certain other accounts, I have to re-engage with this conflict. Again, I would like to say that I stand firm in by belief that the 2BUS should not be re-instated, and that I resent the idea that I have somehow 'flip-flopped' or 'betrayed' my past ideals or other people in regards to what I believe to only be my own rational decisions, all logical as I will prove. read more

greatcompromiser

oh you've got to be kidding me.

read more

#fucking fuck offfff JOHN #dumbass ungrateful bitch #subtreasury discource #castironman #i shouldve let oldhickory hang you

54,233 notes

theliberator

Hello, all. The Liberator is proud to announce a new mod today to assist in spreading the antislavery message. Presenting: @/frederickdouglass! We're very glad to have a new member to the abolitionist movement, and even more so to have a new mod with us today! We're sure they'll do great work, and we hope you share our excitement as well!

-Mod Garrison and The Liberator Team

theliberator

Hello, all. Disregard this post, since we cannot delete it. Frederick Douglass has been removed from the mod team.

#info #state of the blog #mod update #mod garrison

44 notes

dailyaskstotheussenate

to the anon who asked us when the gag rule is going to be repealed.

the day that john quincy adams finally snaps and decides to murder the rest of his colleagues on the floor.

or never.

#misc

234 notes

thenorthstar

Hello all, Frederick Douglass here. As you might be aware by now, The Liberator and I have since parted. The reason for this is due to several irreconcilable differences, some political, some personal. The drama has since cooled down, but due to the blowout from our conflict, William Lloyd Garrison and I have agreed to since part ways. I am currently running @/thenorthstar on multiple platforms available in my bio.

Garrison and I are still part of the abolitionist movement together, so if you're worried about the harm this might cause to our end goal of emancipation for enslaved people in the United States and the complete destruction of the slave system as it stands today, do not worry. I will be reposting a catalogue of my speeches and writings here that were originally in The Liberator- which you may feel free to mute as you wish. My advocacy for human rights will proceed as normal.

Please do not contact me to ask about just what occurred between The Liberator and I, however, as that is something that I both do not want to discuss, and feel it is unnecessary considering this blog's true content matter.

#info #blog #the liberator #please direct any and all comments about wlg to mr smith from now on

245,234 notes

higherlawseward Follow

Let's settle this once and for all.

littlegiantofillinois

/lmao.

#bro's getting ratioed so hard i almost cant watch. #SEWARD #delete this sewage boy

brecknridge Follow

fellas is it gay to bring a flower to your senate colleague as your first act in congress to express your admiration for him (also from your state)( literally the most famous senator of your era)(you plucked this flower straight from your home state and tenderly carried it all the way to washington dc to hand to him)(kinda cute too)(this is the first time you've met him)(whig party, you're a democrat)(70 yrs old)???

brecknridge Follow

fellas is it gay to bring a flower to your senate colleague who's dying in a washington dc hotel room and sit by him for hours on end talking about politics and personal life before he finally expires his last breath and you tenderly are the last person to gently readjust his pillow as he falls asleep in your arms...

oldbuck Follow

No.

brecknridge Follow

oh ok

43 notes

godlikedan

A gift from a friend. ;) ;) ;)

godlikedan

Wait.

godlikedan

Everyone stop reblogging this. This was supposed to go to my other blog.

godlikedan

PLEASE.

#lmao get wrecked. #always knew you had a porn blog danny

12,000 notes

oldbullion

real talk everyone in this senate needs to stop having drama.

#@/castironman @/greatcompromiser... looking at you both #stop it

133 notes

roberthayne

menstruation sounds so cool....but why doesnt it ever happen to men???

godlikedan

remind me how you got elected again.

76 notes

oldbullion

going to @/oldhickory's inaugeral party. I expect a solemn affair.

oldbullion

F U CK they broug ht t cheeessseeee....

12 notes

jgiddyings

back to work in the senate :D~~~!

dawson Follow

tf i thought we censured you??

jgiddyings

i got reelected :) :) :)!~

#take that mofos #no blocking or muting can remove me NOW #suck my dick

65 notes

memberofthehouse

OH MY GOD I HATE this house chamber so much the acoustics are horrible and its so crowded istg I am blaming Thomas Jefferson for all of this. the room was clearly already too crowded in the 1790s and then the louisiana purchase just comes by and Fucks! Shit! UP???? by doubling the amount of people who have to be stuffed in here??? and everyone keeps on smoking and spitting tobacco everywhere and its too hot??? i think the lead is killing me. i think the air is killing me. i think my colleagues are going to kill me. I DEFINATLY THINK HENRY WISE AND HIS COMPANY IS TRYING TO KILL ME???

Kill me.

henrywisingitup

get used to it buddy.

rogertaney

we're making court decisions in the goddarn congress basement if that helps.

346 notes

littlegiantofillinois

so horny for her

77 notes

chucksumner

just saw william seward and jefferson davis taking a carriage together. i don't get it. am i the only one who thinks that as antislavery advocates we in the senate Shouldn't be playing nice with slaveholders??

28 notes

forthurricane Follow

breakfast is very fufilling i say as a person who's morning meal consists entirely of a carton of milk and one (1) expired bread loaf garrison Follow

everyone please stop reblogging op is literally jefferson davis.

#dni

52,346 notes

goldtippedguttapercha-deactiv

Not to be mean but this coworker of mine needs to get caned. 23,233 notes

senatorero hangman foote threatened to kill me again today. can someone please tell me if this means im part of the antislavery club.

vivelasboston Follow

are you a republican? because otherwise i think it's appropriation.

senatorero

oh for christs sake

#personal 4 notes

littlegiantofillinois

such a cruel world... so many good laps to sit on and no one to let me do so.

#SO MANY SOFT LONG CONGRESSIONAL LEGGGGS #THEY ALL LOOK SO COMFFYYYYY #ah well #no comfort or joy in life i suppose #time to bully president pierce into expanding popular sovreignty into kansas nebraska!!! :)))))) #this won't cause any issues

33 notes

[delicacysblog]

Welcome To My Blog

i thought about making this post just for everyone to get to know me so here we go!

Hey Everyone, My name is Delicacy!

Which is my name online, because as of right now i want to be anonymous!

I’ve recently gotten back into Tumblr which having this account for about 10 Years Now! I’ve recently gone through a breakup which i’ve started posting on this account again, sharing my thoughts and feelings from quotes and poems i’ve seen online through instagram to pinterest!

I started writing this post a couple days ago and as i’m writing this now i found out that my ex has gotten into a new relationship! uhh which sucks so much!! because i’ve made this account to get over him but now it’s gone about three steps back but this account is somewhere i can share my feelings without anyone knowing who i am and being perfectly honest with myself.

I love poetry and writing since i was a kid, throughout school i always had A’s in English and the best marks in Poetry and Storytelling ! it’s always been a way to express myself because honestly i am the type of person who will write paragraphs expressing my feelings to other people, which now a lot of people actually don’t like it… but it’s doesn’t stop me from doing it even if they like it or not!

I do struggle with Mental Health which includes: Anxiety, Depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, ADHD & more, i’ve been very silent about my mental health struggles until now after trying to take my own life in 2022, and i feel everyone should speak out about what they’re going through because You’re Not Alone!!!

I’ve gotten a couple messages the past couple days with people thanking me for the posts i make and it’s so heartwarming to see, it genuinely makes me feel so happy and loved and also knowing that i’m helping people throughout hard times, it’s so rewarding and it wants me to post even more!

also if you want to message me please do because i’m here to listen, help and support you no matter what so please reach out to me and don’t be scared! We Are All Human!!

[pink-waves-world]

Characters And Listeners Headcanons - Scythe Audios Edition.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

Some headcanons I have in mind and wanted to share until Scythe releases a new video.

(The incorrect quotes are in progress.)

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

I have a strong feeling that Livana has a knife collection. (Which Alpha bought it as a gift.)

Dark Rose and Vallakay totally had a black cat back 20 years ago when they started dating. (can't change my mind.)

Cheeky is learning Spanish from Wilder (after lots of beggings) just so they could gossip or talk shit about others. L is also tired of it.

Demon Girl is highly interested in the world of alchemy and potions but has never had the opportunity to explore her curiosity in this field.

I don't know, but I have a feeling that Goddess hates every listener (except for Dark Rose) for no reason.

JayJay would copy Twinkle's moves, again, for no reason.

Siren would spoil Sweet Cheeks with his cooking and would make sure she had three meals a day.

Floofster, Kreed, The Chosen, Marcus, and Cole would have a film marathon, only for Kreed to comment every time while Marcus and Floofster curse him out. (The Chosen would be indifferent and Cole sleeps the entire time.)

L, V, Wilder, and Cheeky would play Uno, just so V can cause drama.

Witch (from the Incubus series) likes to write poems for herself and would give some of them to her boyfriend.

When Gray has a break from training, they stay in the forest and gaze around for hours.

━━━━━━━ •♬• ━━━━━━━

If you have any headcanons in mind, I would love to hear them. Please feel free to share them with me in my inbox.

[gaiaseyes451]

7 Days, 700 Words - Storm Break - 6/7

Storm Break (new part in blue)

The patter of rain on the clay shingled roof interrupts our peace. Soft and languid a moment ago, your breath quickens; the crackle of the fire in the hearth a foreshock of the quake amassing in the slate gray clouds. Yet it is I who flinches when lightning flashes, casting the cottage sitting room into sharp relief. Too bright, too cold, too familiar.

Our fingers intertwine and reflexively I curl beside you. Whether it is to soothe my own anxiety or bolster your resolve matters not; you pressed against me, cheek resting in my curls, is a balm all the same.

I count silently, one…two…three… anticipating the sound that follows the fury. Thunder cracks, rattling the glass so droplets spill like tears down window pane cheeks. Through the tempest the unseen sun sets in the churning sky, violet and gold and vermilion glowing on the horizon. There is so much beauty in this world—once our ward, now made home—even in the storms.

But your vision is shuttered, goldenrod irises barricaded against the aftershock of memories of more insidious foes. I run my fingers through your hair and conjure the first storm we weathered, sheltered together as the rain fell over Eden. 

Poor protection though they were, we huddled together as the cold drops beaded on  my wings and ran off in steady rivulets, watching the world change around us. I remember the heat of the sun warmed stones beneath our feet, the whip of the wind against my robes and through your hair. 

But most of all, I remember the colors. In the rain soaked light greens were more verdant, reds richer, blues shades of indigo in their saturation. 

Your eyes, a soul suspended in amber, beside me.

“Do you remember Eden,” I murmur against your temple, “after the first rain?”

You look at me, the same golden soul, no less cherished for finally being mine, and smile. “I do.” 

I stand, our fingers still interlaced, and together we journey toward the garden and into the storm. I leave you on the patio, behind the curtain falling from the eaves, and step into the rain soaked grass to spread my wings. 

Before I can call you are beside me, glistening ebony wings perched carefully overhead 

“The scent of it,” you sigh, darker thoughts replaced by the breath of this moment. “Of dirt and petrichor, flowers and fruit. Life and Earth. You.”

We stand here, vulnerable and exposed, clothes dripping, sodden ground cold beneath our feet. We could turn, return inside, the breeze having whisked away the last remnants of our unease. 

Instead, we stay. 

This is precisely where we belong. We dwell in the cottage, but it is not our shelter. Its walls offer protection, but it is not our refuge.

The rain replenishes the silver necklace streams that adorn the land. The storm breaks the heat of long summer days and nourishes the jasmine that perfumes humid nights. It cleanses souls and slakes thirsts.

We need not fear the rain.

We did not seek refuge on wooden boats as the seas rose and the sky fell. Our safety was not heralded by a dove and olive branch. The ribbon of color bursting across a brilliant blue sky proclaims the magnificence of physics, not a miracle of faith. 

Troubles will always follow and we will surely fret and worry. Until the time the rain comes—as gale or shower, storm or drizzle—and washes our troubles away. The rain falls over everything. Even us. We shall always emerge from it, renewed and reborn, on our side.

We have learned to welcome the storm.

****

The prompt was provided by @crowleysgirl56 and comes from the poem Troubles Follow by @lickthecowhappy . The stanza used as the prompt:

but a cottage near the / sea cannot shelter / from every storm / as rain falls / over all

I’ll write and share 100(ish) words every day until the ficlet resolves at 700 words.

Got a prompt you want me to use next time? Add a comment below! Want to be on a tag list? Follow #Storm Break or comment below. Feel free to adopt this idea yourself! If you do, tag me and I will give you a prompt!

[isabeljkim]

What the hell is going on with Day Ten Thousand:

Day Ten Thousand was weird enough that I felt like it deserved directors commentary, even though I’ve stopped explaining myself mostly except when I do.

Here’s a disclaimer before we begin: don’t read too much into it. I've noticed our culture wants to explain young womens’ art as some sort of public confessional booth and our current culture has a fetish for the autobiographical. Fuck that. I didn’t write three different POVs and three interlocking nonlinear narratives about the nature of storytelling as a psychic technology to be told that my writing isn’t a calculated Craft with a capital C. Now whether it is good Craft is a decision for you, not for me. 

Anyway. 

Day Ten Thousand is a satire of an Isabel story by way of Vonnegut pastiche. We’ll come back to this. 

I called Day Ten Thousand “psychoanalysis bait” on twitter so I shall put all my cards on the table so that your psychoanalysis is at least accurate. Note that these are only my cards, because other people deserve their privacy. I guess you could probably Google all of this but like, jeez. Don’t.

I had a pretty regular time in college except for the tangential deaths. 

When I was twenty, I was the opinion editor for my university newspaper and a girl who was a friend of a friend killed herself by walking in front of a subway. There was then a sort of a small suicide bubble which was a little bit public because we were an Ivy, and one of my opinion columnists was kinda suicidal, and I, without any training, ended up in charge of writing a front page editorial about the mental health crisis on campus on account of the dead kids, etc, and talk to administration about the dead kids. 

I hate talking about dead kids. Don’t ask me about it, or about the reporting. I don’t want to talk about it. 

The whole thing sucked shit and it’s why I’m a lawyer now and not a reporter. 

If this was a story that would be the only fact, but this is reality so I have to mention that a couple years later a guy I knew got literally hate crimed and murdered in a forest. I found out about that because I saw his friend crying in public and didn’t stop to ask what was wrong. Later I heard about this in the news, and realized my acquaintance had been Literally Fucking Murdered. A few months ago I had been arguing with him in the literary magazine editors meeting about whether a poem was good or not. I think he won that argument. Then he was murdered for being gay. 

These were my introductions to the specific emotion of “sometimes people die and you don’t feel like you get to feel bad about their deaths and you still think about it a couple times a month seven years later.” 

You can probably guess where the subject material of this story came from.

Day Ten Thousand was a story about inevitable deaths, and the difference between a death in a story and a death in reality, and about…the way a death marks a narrative and a real life and how it becomes fictionalized over time. I also saw a clean way to finally do my deep time / far future story, which was something I had been thinking about on and off for a couple of years (the original version was about a shaman in the deep-time era who has a vision about having to do a murder re: preserving genetic material for the future, but it never really gelled in a way that made sense). 

I had also been wanting to write something a little metafictional, because I felt like I was writing the same story over and over (if you’ve noticed my stuff getting weirder, that’s why. I was on a bit of an experimentalist kick late last year and early this year). 

So it’s a satire of an Isabel story. I’m self-aware enough to note my obvious recurring motifs: time travel, dead people, grief, people who have a weird relationship to each other, a third-act twist, the tendency to punctuate with in-universe facts to imply emotion, to tell x in order to show y, egregious and blatant use of the second person. And then there’s the stuff that you wouldn’t know, but I do: I dislike writing in the first person, I wanted to do something nonlinear, I think a lot about stories about stories, about the idea of a story as a technology, I find myself dropped into recursive fate-like thought patterns. So a lot of this story is both my self-deprecating poking fun at myself and my habits, and also my thesis statement about…what is the point of fiction if not to make sense of the past and the future, I suppose.

The reason it is a Vonnegut pastiche is because I like Vonnegut a lot and I was trying to do something Slaughterhouse-5-ish with drastically less fucked source material. Sorry Kurt. 

There are three stories happening in Day Ten Thousand, and a secret fourth story. Each story is a suicide loop. The protagonist is trying to break a specific loop by telling a story. This story is about accepting what you have to, and changing what you can. This is a story about letting go and also not letting go. The emotional range of each narrative affects the other psychically, because by changing the vibe of the metanarrative, the individual narratives are allowed to change. 

The story in the archaic is a story that is being told postmortem, it is all hypotheticals based on fact. The story in the future is a singular narrative happening in real time until it isn't. And the story in the present is a guy telling the story about the future, which requires him to tell the story about the past as well, and mostly what Dave is doing here is avoiding the question, but it reflects how Dave thinks about the girl dying in front of the train. 

Does that make sense? No? That’s fair. That’s a postmortem explanation of what actually happened. What actually happened is that I rewrote Day Ten Thousand six times, each time more frustrating than the last, each time with the neutral-ish narrator taking up more and more air. And over time the narrator became a participant, and that’s what created the secret fourth story between “you” and the narrator. 

I had thought there were only three loops that needed to be escaped - the past (archaic, pinned story), and the future (space station, mutable fact), and that the present (the narrator’s world) was something that was static (pinned fact). After all, the girl’s already dead. She’s already stepped in front of the train. 

But the narrator isn’t doing so hot. The narrator is also Dave. And the narrator is telling the story to someone. Somewhere between version one and version six, I realized the only version of this story that makes sense is the one where the story is a conversation, and that you and I, as the narrator and the person at the other end, were also in a loop. 

So. That's whats happening.

I’m not sure if I love the ending. But I rewrote it six times and this one felt as final as it is going to get. I am done reinventing the fucking wheel. You know how it is with spaghetti. Promise I’ll write you something normal next time, I think I’ve gotten the avant- garde out of my system for a few months. 

And hey, I know I said all cards on the table but people deserve their privacy and that includes the kid i used to be when I was twenty, sitting in the shitty little windowless opinion column office, writing about suicide. 

Anyway. Day Ten Thousand is about stuff and things. Themes. So it goes. 

Thanks for reading. I’ll see you later. 

If that was too depressing for you, here are some fun facts: 

The main character is Dave after 2001: A Space Odyssey because I had wanted to make a “I’m sorry Dave I can’t do that” joke, but I couldn’t shove it in :( 

I just thought that phlebotomist was a funny word but I also fucked myself because I misspelled it every time. 

I reread half of Slaughterhouse Five to write this but then my copy got returned to the library automatically so I didn’t finish it. (yes, I’ve read it before, like three times)  

I took one single evolutionary anthropology course in college and it shows.  

I did end up looking at the wikipedia page for “the wheel” for this and then wondering exactly what I was doing with my life. 

About half the facts in this are real, and I read a couple of papers for a couple of things in it (that I promptly then ignored), but the rockets-rome-horse’s ass thing is specifically a story that my friend Max H. likes to tell.