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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Bakugo x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff+small amount of angst

⤷ Word Count: 5307+

⤷ Warnings: Drunk reader, cursing, also reader+Bakugo will be aged up (early 20′s, cause no underage drinking in this house!)

⤷ Synopsis: Bakugo doesn’t have any feeling for you. You’re just one of his shitty friends and that’s it. He’s only picking you up from a bar after your breakup because you drunk called him and not because he’s worried you’ll get hurt. He doesn’t feel his heart pang when you say you want him to drive you to his apartment, not yours. He doesn’t completely turn beet red when he sees you change into his clothes.But, as much as he denies it, Bakugo realizes he loves you when you cry to him drunkenly , saying you wished you had a lover as sweet as him

This fic is for the @bnhabookclub Bingo Event! Here’s my masterlist to see all my work for this event! Also this was actually inspired by @shoutogepi HC of Bakugo and Kirishima taking care of their drunk s/o! I honestly loved this headcannons so much, and they really inspired me to write a more angsty sort of spin on it. Here’s a link to her post (I also explicitly asked her if it was alright to take inspiration from her headcannons, just in case!)

Bingo Slot: Realized Feelings

Bakugo stepped his foot deeper into the gas, the engine in his car roaring as it zoomed through the dark streets.

Damn you and your shitty decisions.

He had been woken up in the dead of the night to his phone ringing annoyingly against his bedside table. Your caller ID of “Cute Shithead” was shining brightly against his face, his finger immediately taking the call.

He had to admit, he was a little annoyed for you calling him so damn early in the morning, but hearing your voice immediately melted any irritation. By the way your words slurred together, you sounded completely wasted. That alone could turn him into a worried frenzy, but the tone of your voice sent ice down his spine.

You sounded so lonely, so defeated, as if you had lost all hope and were giving up.

He rammed his foot again into the gas, following the directions to the club you said you were at as closely as possible over the roar of his engine.

He was just being a decent friend and helping you out, he told himself. There was no other reason why he was helping you...it wasn’t because his heart practically dropped at the sound of your voice, or how he felt his chest tighten when you said “Please come get me Katsuki”

Or that you had called him, not anybody else, to come and get you. It was all platonic-he had to keep telling himself that.

He hastily pulled into the parking lot, his car swerving into a spot a little too haphazardly. He yanked the keys from the vehicle, closing the inky black door with a thud as he looked at the building in front of him.

A bright, Neon green sign lit up the roof, a line of club goers filtering through as they waited for the bouncer to allow them in. It was pretty late in the night-2 am to be exact-so more people were stumbling out of the club than actually going on.

Bakugo quickly began to walk over to the establishment, his body weaving through drunken couples clambering to their cars or taxis. He was searching everywhere, helplessly trying to find your face in every person he saw.

Where the hell were you?

Bakugo turned to his side, looking at the asphalt that lead into the club. There were parking spots right there, all empty, probably for Ubers and Lyfts to come pick up people who had ordered them. THere were a few people sitting on the curb, waiting for their rides as they sat on their phone or blabbered drunkenly to their friends.

But then he spotted a familiar body, their shoulders slump down in exhaustion, their eyes downcast in defeat. He quickly made his way over, knowing exactly who that body belonged to.

“Shit y/n, the hell are you doing here by yourself-“

He quickly bent down, looking at you square in the face.

You gave him a weak smile, your eyes so full of relief and sadness he felt his heart ping from your expression.

He had to admit- you looked like a wreck. Your once meticulously curled hair was frizzy and in shambles from dancing, your makeup splotchy in places and black coating under your eyes.

HIs calloused hands wrapped around your waist, his other arm gently pulling your free hand around his neck for support. He felt like he was moving a ragdoll-you complied with each of his movements, your body resting against his as if you depended on him

“Well, I did have some f-friends… with me…” your murmured out, your voice thick from sleep deprivation and alcohol.

“And the hell are they?”

“-they left a few hours ago…” you slurred,” I said I’d stay… a little longer”

Bakugo began to walk you to his car, the walk more like a stumble as he tried to guide you on your wobbling feet. He felt his insides heat up with an intense flame of rage, licking up and consuming his insides. How the hell could your ‘friends’ just leave you? THis was nothing like you, to be so impulsive that you became incredibly vulnerable in public. Something was seriously wrong with you, something you had to be going through.

“Shitty friends for leaving you like this.” he replied gruffly, making no attempt to hide his obvious anger. “Are you okay? Did anybody try and do anything funny to you?”

He was worried, he had to admit that to himself- you were clearly in a wrong headspace in a pretty sketchy place. Anything could go wrong, and he wanted to make sure that nothing happened.

Not because the idea of you dancing with another guy makes him want to punch a wall.

Or trying to lure you to his apartment made him want to yell and break that imaginary mans jaw, in order to keep you safe in his arms.

Nope-strictly platonic.

You scoffed at the blonde's words, a harsh chuckle spilling out of your chapped lips. “Of course Bakugo, everybody here wants to grope the girl who looks like she’s been crying all day-

“I’m fine-really”

Somehow, even with your slurring words and clouded mind, these words were the first sober syllables you had uttered.

But- if you were fine, you wouldnt be going to a club this late at night. You would have been smart enough to at least stay alert, not completely wasted, and you definitely wouldn't be by yourself. Your werent fine, and Bakugo knew it, because you werent being you.

He was impulsive, irrational, and went with his gut feeling, even if it was a stupid or dangerous idea. You on the other hand, were like his better half: calm yet forceful, a commanding tide to soothe the volcanic eruptions of his anger.

But now you were different, a choppy whirlpool of emotions that were locked away deep inside you, the effects changing your once calm and rational demeanor into something saddened and desperate.

Bakugo gave you a long look, his red eyes slanted as he tried to read what was on your mind.

He stopped your two’s trudging, finally being in front of his car.

A protest was dying to spill from his lips, to retort and fight back the obvious lie you had just uttered. But something in your tired voice made him falter, making him feel more empathy for you than frustration

“Okay then…” he sighed, “let’s get you home,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

It was unnervingly quiet.

Bakugo had the music off, worried that the thumping bass would aggravate any possible headache you had as you curled up in the seat beside him, your high heeled shoes long forgotten on the floor of his car.

He drove much more smoothly than before, his eyes desperately trying to focus on the road. He wasn't used to this kind of you-he missed your smile, and the way you would joke and laugh with him. Of course he would act like he didn't like it, giving you snarky comments and off handed insults that would only push you even more to joke with him.

Now he felt like he was next to a shell of you- you were there, right next to him, but- You weren't there. Your smile, your spirit, your light- it was being blocked by some darkness inside you.

“Are-are you mad at me Katsuki?”

You finally spoke to him, making Bakuo’s eyes wide and his heart stop in his chest.

Why did you sound so timid?

Bakugo continues to glue his eyes on the road, his voice gruff yet uncertain.

“The hell I’d be mad at you for?”

“I don’t know…” you replied softly, “you just sounded-mad”

Shit- now he felt guilty, making you feel worse than you probably already did. It was just that he was worried, and sometimes his emotions came out quicker than his words. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you out of all people could act like this.

“Well, I’m not mad at you-I’m just-“ he sighed, trying to find the words.

“- the hell were you out that late? The club scene isn’t your thing”

You shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him, cuddling yourself in closer to your body.

“I thought I told you-” you answered sadly, ‘I got dumped”

Bakugo blinked a couple times, the shock vibrating throughout his body. He knew you had a boyfriend, apparently Shindo Yo, the damn pretty boy of another hero agency. You were his closest friend after all, so he dealt with the news as best he could, but Bakugo has never liked the guy. He always chalked it up to him being protective over you as your friend, but the way he used to feel so angry and so frustrated whenever he saw you hold hands or hug made him want to scream. A small amount of happiness filled up his chest by hearing you say you were single, instantly making him feel guilty as he saw how distraught you were.

“The hell-“ he gulped out quickly, “what for?”

“Dont know..” you sighed, your face contorted in a grimace, “he-he said he needed to focus on his career-and that-that I was going to stop him from achieving his goals-”

Bakugo instantly felt anger erupt in his chest, his hands becoming clammy against the leather steering wheel.

“Wait-that dickwad, Shindo Yo, right? The damn extra won't amount to nothing, the hell he-”

He was rambling, the spiteful words spewing from his lips. He just couldn’t understand why your piece of shit of a boyfriend would dump someone as amazingly kind and caring as you, and go as far to say such awful words. It made him incredibly furious, and all he wanted to do was confront your now ex and give him a piece of his mind for causing you to act this way.

He was surprised though to hear your voice interject him, your tone stern yet pleading.

“Bakugo, can we not talk about it? Please?”

He wanted to kick himself for being so inconsiderate, an embarrassed blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Shit-I-okay,yeah”

The car ride continued in silence, Bakugo staring at the road in conflict, you cuddling yourself into a small ball on the leather seat.

It continued for a few minutes, until Bakugo broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“Want me to drop you off at your place?” He asked gruffly, looking at you slightly from the side.

He noticed you shift, turning to look at him with large, pleading eyes.

“Can-can we go to your place instead?” you squeaked out, almost as if worried by his response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound mean earlier….I just- always feel so safe and warm when I go to your apartment, Katsuki”

Bakugo felt his heart quicken in his chest-you called him “Katsuki”, his name. Something in you saying that made him feel hot from flusteredness, but then you said you felt safe with him...he had never been more thankful for the darkness of night, because he knew his face was completely red.

He gulped, trying to build up the wall around his emotions you were trying to knock down. With each word or truth that spilled from your sleepy, drunken mouth, he found it harder to keep his feelings at bay. He took a deep breath, his clammy hands readjusting on the steering wheel.

You two were just friends.

He didn’t like you like that and you-you probably didn’t either.

He needed to be Bakugo, your best friend, your rock in hard times, not Bakugou, the blushing mess next to you that was concerned with his own feelings.

He clicked the turn signal on his car to the right, taking the route back to his home instead of yours as he sighed.

“-Fine.”

Bakugo pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, the bumpy street roads now turning smooth as he fit his car through the metal gate and settled into a parking spot near his apartment.

He turned the key of the car, killing the roaring engine as he stepped out of the car, the closing door as a soft thud as he commanded you to “Stay inside”.

Your sluggish head instantly perked at the statement, unable to understand what he had meant by that. But your body felt too tired, mentally and physically, and too weak to even protest. You stayed there, cuddled into the seat as Bakugo opened the door of the passenger seat, his arms outstretched as they tucked themselves under your body.

“Wait what are you-“ you asked sluggish, your eyes barely open as you wrapped your digits around his arms.

“I’m picking you up”

HIs tone was calm and forceful, as if this was a completely normal occurrence between the two of you- which it wasn't.

You instantly blushed at the prospect, excuses already forming on the tip of your tongue.

“You don’t have to, I can-“

“I could barely walk you to car and that was in flat ground,” he retorted back, I’m not gonna walk you up stairs-”

“Just let me do this”

He stated a little more softly, his voice gruff and low as he picked you up off the seat as if you weighed nothing to him. Your hands instantly latched onto his neck finding comfort by burying your head into the crook of his neck.

Shit-why you had to go and be so cute?

His grip around your body tightened, making sure you felt secure as he walked you up the plight of steps to his apartment.

Something about this felt so surreal- your warm body against his, his hands wrapping your thighs, the way your hair felt against his cheek...these were all sensations that left his heart pounding.

All of this seemed to frustrate him as much as it brought him joy-he shouldn't feel any of these tingling sensations around you. He shouldn't feel weightless and giddy, or terrified he'd do the wrong thing around you all the time. It bothered him to know end, and made him feel so frustrated.

But the most frustrating part was the fact you were oblivious- that you had this secret power over him and you didn't even know it.

He finally stepped foot in his apartment, setting you down gently as he ruffled through his pockets for his keys. His hand was still wrapped around your waist, giving you some stability as he opened the door with a slow creak, ushering you inside.

You stepped inside, feeling somewhat out of place- you had been here countless times before: parties, get togethers, the meet up place before you would hang out with the Bakusquad….so why did it feel so strange?

The room felt more intimate in a way-you had never been here without someone else, usually Kirishima.

And youd been here at night, but never this late, and the fact you had asked to sleep over- well, everything just felt so new and raw.

Thankfully Bakugo broke through your rapid thoughts, his vermillion eyes looking down at you with slight worry.

“You good? No needing to throw up or anything?” he asked gruffly.

God he felt so close- you could practically feel his heat radiating into your body still, making your cold digits beg for his touch.

Your cheeks warmed at the thoughts, a small “Mm-mm” and a shake of your head the only thing you could muster to do.

He led you over to his room, passing the small kitchen and bathroom as he did.

“Then you need new clothes- get you out of that clubbing crap”

Your mouth instantly formed into a pout, your eyes looking up at your best friend.

“It's not crap-its pretty”you corrected him, your tone playfully hurt.

“More like tight,” he replied snarkily, “ how do you even move in that thing?’’

You were about to quickly retort back that he should wear the dress and find out, but then a sudden image of Bakugo wearing your skin tight dress at a club made you instantly double over in giggles.

Bakugo gave you a questionable look, his red eyes almost judging your drunken, laughing form.

“I just keep it down with my hands silly,” you said in between giggles, your body flopping onto the plush comforter of his bed. Now you felt a little more at ease, as if the courage of alcohol had kicked into your system yet again.

Bakugo shook his head, his blonde locks swaying at the motion as he quietly said ‘Giggly ass drunk” under his breath. He began to rustle through his closet, trying his best not to stare at your form laying across his bed in such a body accentuating dress.

You hadnt seemed to notice Bakugo's rhetoric or dilemma, a soft smile gracing your lips stiill. Your propped your body up on your elbows, your tousled hair pooling against your skin.

“so what amazing little number are you gonna put me in now?”

“-This,”

You felt cloth instantly hit you square in the face, as if Bakugo had thrown it over his shoulder-most likely on purpose.

Usually you would attack the asshole for doing something like that, but you just felt too tired to even throw an insult back. Your lips pouted out once again, a small whine escaping your throat as you ripped the shirt from your face.

Bakugo grinned slightly at you ,finding your expression adorable as well as funny. He watched you inspect the shirt, the fabric as dark as your dress.

“You would think interning with Best Jeanist would have left some fashion sense in you,” you spewed out, your face clearly distraught by the shirt he had given you.

He rolled his eyes, his grin now turning into a grimace.

Was drunk you really that picky over a shirt?

“That was 5 fucking years ago, and I only interned with him cause he was one of the best,” he tried to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grown warm from your drunken disapproval. But his fiery personality kicked in, his tongue beginning to stutter over his words. “- just throw the goddamn shirt on before I let you sleep in that shit you call a dress”

“Or I could sleep in my underwear, there's other alternatives,”

your words flew out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, a triumphant grin on your face as you saw how beet red Bakugo became.

A giggle escaped from your lips, the sound ringing softly against his ears.

“Dont worry Katsuki, Ill wear the clothes,” you gave him a soft smile, cuddling the clothing to your chest.

He blinked a few times, trying to get his heart to settle back into a steady rhythm.

This wasn't real.

You didn't make him nervous.

You were just his best friend- you being in his room, in a pretty dress, making flirty remarks didn't affect him.

You were drunk-you weren't yourself right now- so why did he feel so hopeful? And for what?

He quickly spun on his heel, turning around before you could catch the glowing in his cheeks.

“Whatever-just call me if you need help” he threw over his shoulder, his hands closing his bedroom food with a loud slam.

Bakugo sat himself on the couch in his living room, his hands resting on his face, his elbow connected to his legs.

The hell was going on with him?

As he was brooding over his conflicted emotions, he heard the door of his room click open, and it seemed all his feeble attempts to slow down his heart went out the window.

There you were, clad in his black tshirt, the fabric pooling around your thighs and making your arms look tiny in the flowing fabric. You must have been wearing the shorts worn from under your dress, but still- he got a full view of your beautifully plush thighs, making heat rise to his cheeks.

Strange sensations filled his stomach, that tingling butterfly sensations filling his stomach-

The hell was wrong with him?

“For your clothes being so bland, they are pretty comfy…” you smiled up at him, his heart quickening at the small gesture.

You walked your way over the couch, resting your body opposite him, giving ample space between the two of you as you sighed in content.

“I could go to sleep right now”

Bakugo snorted, his arms wrapping against his chest as the heat continued to rise in his cheeks.

“The hell your not-”

You instantly pushed yourself up, cocking your head at Bakugou in confusion.

He had to admit it to himself- your looked-cute-, sitting there, your legs crossed with his shirt wrapped around your frame, your eyes wide and hair a mess.

He could get used to seeing you like this-

But shit he couldn't-didnt-think like that. You were his friend, nothing more.

“What do ya mean?” you asked “You were complaining about me two minutes ago, wouldn't you want me to go to sleep?”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes looking down at the floor.

“Sure but-I'm not letting you go to sleep with all that shit on your face-”

Your hands instantly went to touch your face, your digit scrubbing against the skin.

“Huh?-Oh”

You looked down, and there on your hand was your foundation, a tiny bit too dark as it had mingled with your bronzer and highlighter, black running against your skin like tire streaks on a road.

How did you not even feel that was on your face? How drunk were you?

The thought of you being so intoxicated you forgot you had makeup on seemed like the funniest thing ever, giggles dribbling out of your lips.

“Oh my god, I forgot!” you laughed, chuckles wracking through your body.

Bakugo simply shook his head, unable to contain a smirk from gracing his lips. He got up slowly, walking over to your side of the couch to offer you his hand.

“Alright cmon-you giggly ass drunk,” he smirked, his lungs tightening as you gave him a smile of your own, your smaller hand slowly taking hold in his larger one.

You leaned into his body, already accustomed to him being your support- he would at least admit it right now...you were cute

He walked you over to his bathroom, his digit flicking on the light switch.

It was a little small, with enough room to hold two people inside. He gently pressed you against the wood of the cabinet, his hands grabbing your waist as he hoisted you on to the counter.

Any other day you would be embarrassed by this sudden closeness with your best friend but something about this felt bitter sweet. It had been so long it seemed like since someone had truly cared for you, being there by your side and making sure you were okay. It felt comforting to have Bakugou near you, but you knew this wouldnt last. You were drunk and feeling broken-is was just his obligation as your friend to get you through the night. Once you sobered up, itd be back to the way things were-bitterly lonely.

As you muddled in your emotions, your feet dangling against the cabinets, Bakugo was rummaging through in the cabinet next to you, emerging with a bottle of makeup remover.

You cocked your head at the bottle, the liquid inside an artificial yet soothing blue.

Why did he have that?

Bakugo stared down at the bottle in his hand, his red eyes quickly glancing at the writing on the side and setting it down on the counter, now rummaging for a cloth.

“This shit should work-”

Your hand grabbed the bottle, now inspecting it in curiosity.

“When did you get this?”

“Remember last time you came over,” he asked over his shoulder,” when the power went out in your apartment and you said you had to do your makeup?”

You simply nodded your head-you remembered that day. You had planned to go and watch a movie with your boyfriend-ex, and the screening was at exactly 12 am since it was premiering. You had wanted to look at least a little decent, but fate had gone against you and destroyed that plan halfway into putting on your makeup. So you had of coursed called Bakugo, who grumpily obliged to let you use his apartment.

Bakugo’s hands gently took the bottle from yours, his hot skin brushing against yours as he applied the liquid to the cloth. His frame fit snugly in between your legs, your inner thighs brushing against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Well, You left it-”

He simply stated, everything in his being trying to keep his tone leveled as he began to wipe your skin clean of the events from the night.

You had never seen Bakugo be so gentle- he was taking his time, focusing on one small area and then moving onto the next. His strokes were even and light as air, not digging into your skin or forceful in any way.

“And- and you kept it?” you gulped out, your eyes searching his own vermillion ones.

Bakugo was scared, terrified even-he didnt want to look you in your eyes.

Would he do something he regretted if he did?

He was trying to control himself, to fight everything in him all night to not let you catch on to him, to not let you or himself see his true emotions...he was getting too tired to fight, and he was scared that he’d let something slip that he didnt even know about himself yet.

“Well yeah, I wasn't just going to throw it away,” he answered,” I figured you'd come and get it,”

He paused, his hand faltering against your skin for the smallest second. Maybe-it wouldn't hurt to say something...you were drunk after all, you wouldn't remember most of tonight probably….

“-also,” he gulped out, his heart beating in his chest, “ Its nice to have reminder of you here too,”

Your eyes instantly widened, the wind knocked out of your chest, constricting almost in pain.

Why did that make you feel so-so fluttery inside?

And why did it hurt so much?

Maybe because it almost sounded like-Bakugou may care for you? More than just a friendly way?

No-it couldn't….he was your best friend….but god, it felt so good to be cared for, to actually feel wanted-

And of course had to be by someone you knew you never had a chance with.

Your shoulders began to shake, realizing how much you must have screwed up-you lost your boyfriend, was humiliated by him, and then humiliated your own self by losing control.

Bakugo was the only one you had truly could count on-he was the one person you called, and he had shown up to get you. He had tried his best to keep you comfortable, went out of his way to keep you safe, his best to keep you happy…

How long had it been since someone had been this caring to you?

Your shoulders began to shake, the weight of everything crashing down on you, tears spilling across your cheeks like rain droplets outside a car window.

How did everything turn out so wrong?

Bakugo instantly noticed your change, his body instantly panicked and worried.

“Shit-y/n, you okay? Whats wrong?” he asked, his tone desperate as he set the cloth down and wrapped his hands around your forearms, securing you as wave after wave of tears racked your body.

He wrapped you into a slow hug, his warm palms placed firmly against your back as you instantly wrapped your arms around his neck.

He felt so warm and safe, your noise buried into the soothingly sweet smell that was him.

“Katsuki I-I-Im sorry, I didnt mean to-” you blubbered out, trying your best to apologize over your heightened emotions.

Bakugo had no idea what to do- was this just something you did when drunk? He had no idea why you had started crying, and he hoped it wasn't something he did- but telling by how in pain you looked and how quickly you welcomed his embrace, this was something he didnt do and couldn't fix-at least not quickly.

He continued to hold you tightly, his hands beginning to become clammy against your back.

“Dont say sorry-Your fine, just- tell me whats wrong,”

He felt your hands ball his shirt in your fists, your chin digging deeper into his skin.

“I wish I could find a guy as great as you,”

Shit.

Bakugo’s face turned beet red, his arms stiffening at your words- when he asked what was wrong, he didnt mean something like that.

But the truth comes out when you're drunk, and Bakugo fully believed in this saying…

Did that mean-you liked him?

He couldn't deny it now- it was too hard and everything was against him at this point.

Just the small prospect of being your lover made Bakugo’s heart quicken, the little sentence you just uttered destroying the wall he had kept to protect himself from the truth.

He liked you.

Alot actually.

He scoffed, trying his best to remain calm as he cradled you in his arms.

“Im not as great as you think I am,”

He felt you cuddle yourself even deeper into his neck, your hair tickling his jawline.

You seemed to be calming down as Bakugo had had a mental crisis….your sobs were now sniffles, and you werent breathing as hard. But you still were cuddled deep into his body, as if using him to block yourself from the outside world.

“No you are, you really are…”you sighed quietly, “ even if you are an ass sometimes, you are very kind and sweet-

“I just wish I could date someone like you,”

Shit.

How could he even say anything after that?

How was even able to respond?

He wouldn't-Bakugo decided to hold you quietly, as if you never said anything...but those words were echoing inside his head.

God- you could date him in a heartbeat. But, reality kicked into Bakugou- you were drunk, and just got dumped. You were just starved of touch and affection from that.

There was no way sober you would have said something so revealing as this- you saw him as his best friend, nothing more and nothing less of that. You wouldn't jeopardize your relationship by saying something that could mean the end of your friendship.

Bakugo felt the tightness of your body loosen, your breathing now regular, something so different from a few minutes ago.

“Y/n?” he asked quietly, almost timidly as he waited for a response.

Nothing.

Bakugo sighed, a small, tired smile playing on his lips

“You fell asleep huh?”

Bakugo playfully rolled his eyes as your quiet demeanor spoke the truth for him.

His hands found themselves placed against your back, wrapping against your body once again so that your legs were around his waist, his arm supporting you as he carried you back to his room.

Maybe in the morning you would remember this...maybe not. He was conflicted- a part of him hope you didn't, so your relationship could resume as normal, but- something in him hoped you remembered. And hoped you wanted to talk more about it- because if you felt the same way and meant it, he wouldn't mind to see if you two could be more than just friends.

He pecked a look at your sleeping form, your smushed face against his shoulder making his heart fill with warmth.

“Shit-if only you knew...I would date you-

“even if your a giggly ass drunk,”

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hobidreams · 5 years

Text

The Early Shift | Last Cup {M}

the last sip of coffee is always the most bittersweet.

pairing: barista!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, sprinkling of fluff words: 9.5k contains: coffee shop au, enemies to lovers, jealous/awkward yoongi, condomless sex, softness (ish), dirty talk, spanking, oral (f), hair pulling, the truth index: first sip - second taste - last cup

“H-Hyung?” The word is foreign on your tongue as you swivel, catch sight of Yoongi’s face. He’s gone ashen, stony as he barrels towards you two, abandoning the inventory checklist with a clatter onto the counter.

Yoongi’s hands dig into your wrist as he forces you behind him, taking your place instead right in front of Jiwon’s still smiling face. Except the grin is now somewhat plastered in place on his handsome lips. “Jiwon.” Yoongi drops the familiar term, his eyes more combative than you’ve ever seen them. Combative, yet not with the fires of passion he usually turns on you. Instead, a chill so cold, so empty you hardly recognize it.

“Ahhh...” Jiwon exhales, covering his mouth with a broad palm, scratching the skin just beneath his lips with a groomed fingernail. “It’s been a while… I’m still your hyung, you know.”

“Bullshit.” Yoongi whips the word at him, but Jiwon doesn’t back away.

“I thought you hated the night shift.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Is that why you’re here then? To ruin something else for me behind my back?”

The tension is so weighty it settles in the pit of your stomach as you look from man to man, neither one offering any explanation. Deadlocked in a standoff of stares or glares depending on the man. Their only weapons are their words, which could cut just as deeply as any blade.

This isn’t good. Especially because there’s still a customer left in the store.

So you throw yourself into the fray. “Yoongi, what’s wrong?” You ask in what you hope is a calm voice. “How do you know Jiwon?”

The second Jiwon’s name comes out of your mouth, Yoongi jerks towards you. “I don’t. Nothing’s happening. He’s just leaving.”

“Yoongi, you can’t just kick out a customer.” You feel bad – Jiwon is starting to look like a kicked puppy with his lips drawn down, somber.

“Can and will.”

“Yoongi…” Jiwon clenches his coffee. “Listen—”

He’s cut off when a blare of familiar song whips through the café. “I KNOW, we don’t talk together!” Volume turned up to the max, the music reverberates off the walls themselves.

“Sorry!” The only customer squeaks, the ringtone obviously hers as she answers the call. “Hello?” She hurries out the door, leaving awkward silence in her wake.

You didn’t think it was possible, but Yoongi’s scowl deepens further. It just had to be this song, the damn reminder of what he’s lost. The lines carved into his face are so hardened and painful you wish you could offer relief. Instead, you swallow that look and all its implications. Then something clicks in your brain.

“Wait, Yoongi...” You gesture to Jiwon, hands slightly shaking, “is he…”

Yoongi grunts, irritated that he can’t hide it any longer. “It’s your lucky day. Meet DJ Alex.” His voice is deadpan. “Or should I say, Do Jiwon.”

“Do… Jiwon.” You repeat in a whisper. “DJ.”

“Yup.”

Another silence, but this time it covers you in its heavy grasp. This Jiwon. This charming, handsome Jiwon that you almost asked out, imagined yourself possibly dating. This Jiwon that’s actually nothing but a thief.

Said man rakes a hand through his dark hair. “Yoongi, let me explain myself, please.”

With another scoff, Yoongi breaks the stare-off. He turns. His eyes find yours of all things and he just exhales as if it’s all too much. “Jiwon. Just… Just go.” He steps away from the counter, tensed fingers finding your wrist. He means to drag you both into the backroom. Running away from this mess like he always has.

But you’re not done yet.

Your mind is exploding with questions, with emotions bolstered by the absolute fatigue in Yoongi’s eyes. Why isn’t he defending himself? He so eagerly goes head to head with you but here? Here is where he loses his nerve? He’s just going to let Jiwon get away with it all without so much as a scolding? When Jiwon took his best chance away from him and his inspiration with it?

No. No damn way are you going to stand there and take that.

You jerk your hand free. Before Yoongi can grab you again, you storm back to the counter. “What the fuck, Jiwon?”

Some carnal part of you relishes the shock in Jiwon’s eyes when your voice whips at him, respectful honorifics dropped.

“What the actual fuck? You just come back here just to offer excuses about what you did?” Your finger jabs at the air over his chest. “If you want to call yourself his hyung, then you should make yourself fucking deserving of that name!” Your volume raises with every word you sucker punch at him. “But no, instead, you betrayed him! Just abandoned him!”

Jiwon’s mouth flaps but nothing comes out.

“How dare you come back into his life and remind him of all that? Of the shitty thing you did and are still enjoying now?” You’re on a roll, apparently. You didn’t even know you had it in you to defend Yoongi so vehemently when you usually spend your time doing the exact opposite. But the resignation in the way he bites his lip scrapes at your heart.

“Yoongi trusted you. You were his partner!” Jiwon shrivels with every syllable. “The only thing worse than a coward, which you are for dodging him, is a goddamn liar.”

You’re left slightly breathless at the end of your tirade, tense hands splayed across the bar You glare at Jiwon, but he refuses to meet your expression, your anger. Instead, he burns a hole in the counter for half a minute before he dares to looks up. Then his eyes flicker to Yoongi. You stiffen, ready for an explosion.

“…You’re right.” When Jiwon finally speaks, his voice has lost all flirtatious flair. It sounds small, pathetic. “I did a shitty thing. A shitty, selfish thing.”

What an ass—

Wait.

Wait, what?

“Y-Yeah!” You can’t quite hold on to the full amount of anger in your tone when he’s not feeding your fire. But having Yoongi in your peripheral vision keeps you from moving an inch. “Damn right it was shitty!”

“The producers, they just. Fuck.” Jiwon sighs, gritting his teeth. “Fuck, I know I can’t take back what I did. But. But Yoongi…” Your hands clench into fists, ready to counter whatever excuse he comes up with. Or his anger, which would be apt considering the venom you’ve thrown his way. “Yoongi, I’m sorry.”

You actually take a step back.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

This is… Not what you were expecting. And judging by the way Yoongi’s mouth just falls open, he hadn’t predicted it either. He just keeps blinking as if he figures he’ll wake up at any minute.

Jiwon stutters something unintelligible as he fishes in his jacket for a wallet. It’s much fumbling before he drops a white card onto the table, his name embossed on the front. “I-If you want, I can introduce you to some connections and we can get your music out there, Yoongi. Let me help you! Please.” He pushes the card across the counter. “Call me. Let me make up for this.”

Oh, hell no.

You take one look at the flimsy card stock and snatch it up. “He doesn’t need your pity!” You scrunch it up in your fist. Whip the paper ball towards the door. “Just get out!”

Finally, Jiwon gets the point. He gives Yoongi one last look (regret? sorrow? who the hell cares) before he whirls around. Even leaves his coffee behind in his haste. The chime goes off and now, you are left alone together.

You both stare out the door for a long minute, neither of you sure how to proceed. Eventually, your fingers stitch together, oddly flustered as you slowly turn to fully face Yoongi. He seems to have recovered from the initial jolt. He’s closed his flabbergasted mouth, opting for a thin-lipped glower instead. Except this one seems directed at you.

You feel like you should say something, but what? The tension nips at your mind, begging to be shattered. Needs to be, if you are going to move forward.

“Yoongi—”

He beats you to it. “You know what? I don’t need your pity either.” Then he disappears into the backroom, door slamming decisively shut.

He just leaves you standing there like a fish caught on a deadly hook, stuck with bleeding thoughts, hands numb, trembling. You weren’t expecting gratitude, no. Still, you didn’t think he would react like… this, either. Not when the other option was to let Jiwon go.

But you don’t see Yoongi again until an hour has passed. Those two lines, spat like poison, become the last words Yoongi says to you for the rest of the night as he stalks, still mute, to the OPEN sign. He whips it CLOSED precisely one second after the proper time and begins the mopping duties without even so much as a glance your way.

You can’t muster the courage to even try knocking on the wall he’s suddenly re-erected between you; all you can do is look down at the change you’re counting and try to not let it get to you.

You finish the evening in this same solitude. The cleaning gets done. The store is locked, shuttered. Eventually, you go your separate ways in the darkness without so much as a wave of acknowledge. Yoongi’s hands remain stuck in his pockets, closed off, while you pick at your nails in nervous habit as you walk away from him.

Tomorrow, Yoongi is back on his regular shift. Meanwhile, you still have two weeks of your night shift trade left to go. That means your paths don’t have any opportunity to cross.

And so, they simply don’t.

To your credit, you try your best not to think about Yoongi. But your mind just keeps playing that scene over and over again, determined to force you to analyze every word, every gesture. And that song is making a comeback on the radio, if only to serve no other purpose than to antagonize you.

Perfect. Just freakin’ perfect.

You make it all of a week.

“Hey Jungkook… Can I ask you something?”

“Always! Shoot.” Jungkook leans against the bar, letting his adorable, earnest smile shine through.

Here goes nothing. “H-Have you spoken to Yoongi at all?” You’re trying your best to keep your voice casual, not wanting to betray the hours of contemplation spent pondering whether or not you should be asking this question in the first place. Clearly, you’ve been real productive these past seven days.

Jungkook doesn’t look surprised at your query. Or maybe he just hides it well. Either way, he nods. “Not much. Just a little bit when our shifts overlap.” His huge eyes may look innocent, but there’s a gleam of mischief as he deliberately refuses to elaborate any further than that.

Brat. He’s not going to make this easy on you. “Is he… Is he okay?”

Jungkook shrugs. “No injuries. He hasn’t gotten into any fistfights.”

“Yah, you know what I mean.” You smack him on the arm.

He laughs, infuriatingly carefree. “Sorry, sorry. But seriously, he just looks normal, maybe a little tired. Then again, I only see him for like half an hour. Not a lot of time to have deep, soul-searching conversations.”

You don’t know what answer you were hoping for, but it still leaves you disappointed. “Hm.”

Hm, indeed. He looks fine, while you’ve been replaying last week over and over again in your mind like a broken record. Cool. That’s totally cool.

“So he hasn’t… talked or asked about me or anything?”

Hoseok, coming up from behind Jungkook, is the one to answer instead. “Well, actually.” It’s comical how your heart soars at that, leaping bounds and valleys from just two words. But you come crashing down when he ultimately ends up shaking his head. “Wait. Sorry, shit. I… can’t tell you.”

Your eyes narrow. “You can’t? So he has said something?”

Hoseok casts his gaze downward. “It’s really not for me to say.” He purposefully smooths out non-existent wrinkles on his apron.

Jungkook’s doe eyes turn on you. “Noona, have you tried just asking him yourself?”

…Kind of. The text you sent a few days, the careful ‘Hey, Yoongi, are you there?’ had gone woefully unanswered. You eventually had to archive the conversation altogether, to prevent your obsessive checking over whether or not he had replied. Altogether, a disaster.

“It’s… It’s fine. It’s whatever,” you end up muttering. Thankfully, the door sounds and you vehemently turn towards the new customer that’s just entered the shop, grateful for the distraction.

You know your coworkers are much too clever to believe your stammered words. But at least they’re kind enough not to probe any further.

It is on a Friday, the last night of your month-long shift swap, that reality smacks you in the face.

Reality is this: you will be forced to face Yoongi in three days, and things remain extremely awkward between you. He is still ignoring you. Not that you can really blame him, after these two weeks to contemplate that decisive moment. While you don’t regret what you said to Jiwon, you probably shouldn’t have stuck your nose into Yoongi’s issue and taken over for him. Should have respected his decision to back off, no matter how unjust.

Which means you should probably apologize.

Just one problem. You hate doing that. Especially to Yoongi.

But you were the one who committed the wrong, so you have to be the one to extend the olive branch. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, nothing like the lattes you prefer but more like a dark roast: rich, full, and awful. That’s how Yoongi had tasted too, his tongue sliding against yours so feverishly like a man possessed. You hadn’t minded the flavor then.

“Hobi, how do you apologize to someone?” You rest your hands on the top of the mop, then your cheek on top of that.

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, a cute “hm?” coming out of his heart-shaped mouth. “Depends on how bad the situation is, I think!”

“Pretty bad, I guess?”

He hums, as if he knows exactly what this is in reference to. Then he raises a finger in triumph, like he’s just discovered the secret to the universe. “Go with a gift! You can never go wrong with a present!”

Hm! You nod approvingly. That’s a perfect idea.

Thus, your Saturday becomes dedicated to making a gift for Yoongi.

Yes, making, because you can’t exactly afford expensive music equipment. You don’t think Yoongi would appreciate a bag of coffee beans from his place of employment. Somehow, a stuffed animal doesn’t seem to fit his aesthetic either; you also really don’t want to add to the clutter of his place. So, your genius mind has settled on creating a mixtape. A playlist full of songs you hope can express how sorry you are, and how you hope to move on from this.

There’s one surprise at the very end of the CD: a piece that’s self produced. It’s just two minutes of you, a shitty phone microphone, and some heartfelt rambling. Look, apologizing is hard, okay? You don’t think you have the gall to do it in person, so this is the next best thing.

The sun is just beginning to set when you reach Yoongi’s apartment, finished present in hand. You’re contemplating whether to knock or just leave the tiny bag you have on the handle. One of these options is easier than the other. But maybe you owe it to him to at least ensure it gets to him.

Your knocks go unanswered.

Eventually, you have to accept that he’s out, a fact that has relief pouring over you. You loop the bag straps around the door. He’ll get it whenever he reaches home, you suppose. And if he chooses to snap it in half without listening to it, well, that’s his prerogative too. You’ve done your part. You’ve been the bigger person.

You manage to get all the way back to your apartment without thinking of the package, blasting music from your headphones to drown out your thoughts. You eat your dinner, watch an episode of the latest KBS drama, water your plants. Hell, you even start actually doing the research for your paper due in three weeks. But throughout it all, you can’t shake the listlessness that sits beneath your skin like an unwanted visitor, ever so often poking you with a sharp stick.

You know too well why it’s there: your damn curiosity that won’t leave you alone.

You want desperately to know if your gift has been received, and how. Will he understand what you’re trying to say? Maybe you should have put your apology at the beginning instead of the end. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone with Super Junior’s Sorry Sorry, even though you needed something in the middle to break up the torrent of sappy songs. Oh god. The what ifs threaten to drive you stark wild for the utter lack of answers. (Though judging by your current state, perhaps they already have.)

“Uggggh, that’s it!” You announce to your succulent, desk chair clattering as you shove viciously to your feet. “I’m going to bed!”

With great, groaning creaks, the elevator doors open on the floor of Yoongi’s apartment. Yoongi drags his exhausted body through them, reeking of smoke, stale cologne, and alcohol, courtesy of the bar he just left. His head is still a little fuzzy, but it’s not too bad. A nice haze. The walk here in the cool night air has already sobered him up some. He just needed to get out of the house. Needed to stop thinking for a while.

But the pressure lingering in his system had refused to budge even after the second shot, fifth drink in total, which was what finally prompted him to get his sorry ass back home. He’s desperate for something to relieve what’s been pent-up, the ugliness building and bubbling uncontrollably inside him these past weeks. Sex distracts him, usually. But a meaningless hookup… that would erase the memories of your pretty mouth on him, the heat of your body tangled up with his. He can’t bring himself to do that. Not that he can admit this, even in his own mind. So, he resigns himself to another night of his fist wrapped around his own length and a mediocre climax.

Yoongi sighs as he rounds the corner, digging in his pocket for his keys. Just as he pulls the ring out, he spots the conspicuous bag tied to his door. Who would be sending gifts like this? Jimin? No, his friend from college is currently out of town, he remembers. But nobody else would leave—he peers inside—a CD of all things, with his name scribbled upon it. This handwriting is familiar, but he can’t quite place it.

He grabs the bag and enters the darkness of his place. He drops his jacket on the couch, then makes his way to his computer. Slides the CD inside the console. Waits.

The first song is something indie, something sorrowful. Yoongi doesn’t recognize it but he gives it a listen. It’s not bad. But the next song is even slower, even sadder. Most definitely not his usual type of music, and for good reason. He cringes at the third piece.

The songs just keep coming, all playing off the same apologetic theme. Whoever put together this playlist has no idea what they’re doing, he thinks. The genres are all over the place, with no coherent flow like a proper mixtape should. They all just happen to contain the word ‘sorry’ in the title or lyrics. “The hell is this,” Yoongi mutters, laughing at the absurdity as he stands up halfway through, deciding to take a shower without even bothering to turn the music off.

Yoongi takes his time beneath the hot water – lets it wash away the grime of the night. It helps remove some of the buzz from his mind. By the time he steps out of the bathroom, he feels almost completely sober. He’s distracted with towelling off his hair; he doesn’t even notice that music is no longer playing until he hears speech.

“...eah, so, I guess what I’m trying to say...”

He freezes.

But that’s your voice.

The voice he hasn’t heard in weeks but could pick out of a crowd in a second. The voice that once hammered on his brain on a daily basis but now douses it in undeniable relief, comfort.

Yoongi is glad no one is around to witness him rushing to the desktop, hurriedly replaying the track that’s currently on. He plugs in his headphones, dragging them over his head even though his hair drips with water.

“Hey, Yoongi.” You sound so uncharacteristically quiet it makes his chest tight. “I-I know you’re trying to avoid me, and I don’t blame you.” He gnaws at his bottom lip as he listens to you explain your thoughts. Even though your tone wavers at certain moments, you just keep pressing on. It makes his chest feel inexplicably tight.

“Yeah, so, I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I won’t interfere with your business again. And I won’t cross the professional lines between us anymore. I hope we can still work together. Okay. That’s, uh, all from me. Goodnight.”

Yoongi sits in the silence for all of three seconds before he hits the back button. Plays it again. Then again.

“God damn it!” He rips off the headphones, surges to his feet. “You’re so damn silly. It’s not your fault! How could any of this be your fault?”

But then whose is it?

Jiwon is the easiest culprit. But he’s apologized. He’s trying to move on, even trying to help Yoongi, even though that’s just salt in the wound. The only person still mired inside this self-made prison is Yoongi. He made his home in these concrete walls, punishing himself, thinking it was the easiest way out. Still bitter and trying to pretend like he can just stay angry forever because the only person it fucked up was himself.

But now it’s affecting you.

Hearing your voice like this, it’s all laid out for him. Reality and truth stab him in the gut, forcing him to finally acknowledge how he’s hurt you, the one person who has nothing to gain from helping him, yet continues to do so again and again.

Yoongi rubs at his temples, regret radiating through him in waves. He should have realized it earlier, if only he could have pulled his head out of his ass. Hearing this, hearing your voice with that undercurrent of worry is like a punch to the gut and to his mind, blasting out any residual hesitancy.

You don’t deserve to sit in this uncertainty and pain of misunderstanding any longer.

A text isn’t enough. Nor is a call. He needs to see you. He needs to see you right now and tell you face to face just how sorry he is. How grateful. And maybe he just wants to see your face, because he kind of misses the way you scold him.

Haphazardly dressed, Yoongi rushes out the door, almost forgetting his keys in his haste. His slides slap against the floor as he frantically dials Namjoon, hoping he’s awake to get the address he so desperately needs. He jams his finger into the elevator call button, silently willing it to come faster.

No more, Yoongi thinks. No more running away from the hard shit, from his feelings. This time, he’s running right towards his future.

The clock blinks 1:00AM when you check it next, still as wide awake as when you shuffled beneath your covers two whole hours ago.

Damn it. It’s a good thing you have tomorrow off, because there’s no way in hell you could wake up at the crack of dawn otherwise. Counting sheep has proven to be useless, especially after you get up to Sheep #482 (it’s a cute one. Okay. They’re all cute.) Doing math equations in your head usually gets you conked out pretty quickly from sheer monotony, but it’s also futile tonight. Your mind is much too alive, active, overactive to let you doze off.

Then you hear the knocking.

Well, it’s more like a clatter. The sound of something hard slamming against your door, followed by a few wimpy taps. Yikes. Are you going to get murdered?

You slip out of bed, pick up your baseball bat. Weapon in hand, you creep towards the entrance, forgetting you’re not even wearing any bottoms. You press silently to the thick wood, maneuver your eye over the peephole to see what crazy bastard is here at this hour.

What you see has you yanking the door open, the bat clattering uselessly to the ground.

“Y-Yoongi?!”

It feels like a lifetime since you’ve last seen him. You didn’t know how much you missed that stupid, irritating, attractive face until it’s in front of you. Doubled over and breathless, hair a wind-blown mess.

“How the hell did you get my address?”

“Namjoon.” Yoongi is panting so hard he can hardly breathe. You swear he’ll keel over in the next minute. You don’t look forward to cleaning his body off your carpet. “Namjoongaveittome.” That’s all he can get out before he takes another gulp of air, face red with strain.

“Jeez, come in so you don’t bother my neighbours with your dying.” You usher him in, watch him stumble to your couch as you flick on a lamp to cast a glow over the room. He’s wearing a plain tee and sweatpants, but it’s the slides on his feet that probably explain his current discomfort. In his hands, he clutches the same bag you left on his doorstep. You try not to think about the implications of that. “Why didn’t you drive or take the bus or something?”

“Bus broke down… halfway. Had to run…”

You shove a glass of water into his hands and he gulps at it. A few droplets leak from his mouth. He wipes it away with the back of his hand. Classy.

“Thanks,” he finally says as his heart seems to stop threatening to jump out of his chest from fatigue, then speeds up again for another reason entirely.

You stare at each other wordlessly for a few beats.

“What’re you doing here, Yoongi?” It comes out in a harsher tone than you’d intended but your heart beats a drum in your chest, a rude rhythm that is mirrored in the trembling of your fingers.

“I should be saying that to you!” Yoongi reacts to the perceived animosity in your voice, lifting the bag and shaking it. “What is this supposed to be, huh?”

You force yourself to focus on fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. Quelling the unease in your veins. “…Did you listen to it?”

“Yeah, I did.” Yoongi sets the cup on the coffee table with a smack. “First of all, you have awful taste. Secondly, this CD is completely unnecessary.”

“Oh.”

This squeak of a noise is accompanied by the sudden skydive of your heart, right towards the floor. At least that you can hide. But, against your will, disappointment and exhaustion create a cocktail of tears that prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over by the next second. No, no, no, you scold yourself but the lump swelling in your throat refuses to be swallowed down. You hate that more than anything, hate that it makes you look wimpy and weak.

When you turn your head, Yoongi catches sight of the glimmer of wet tears. “Oh, shit.” He throws the bag behind him. Scooting towards you, he puts a warm hand on your shoulder and his voice is right beside your ear and god damn it, why is he getting closer? But even you can hear the panic in his voice when he says, “no, no, oh god. I didn’t mean it like that.” He brushes your hair back to expose your downturned face. “Shit. Please don’t cry. Please.”

“I don’t want to cry either, Yoongi!” Your words sound waterlogged, but you force them out. Hope it’ll make him back off.

Instead his thumb comes beneath your eye to catch the stray tear that leaks out. He wipes it away as he murmurs your name so softly you can scarcely believe the noise came from his lips. “Look at me. Please.”

What can you do but obey? Min Yoongi will be the death of you, you swear it. That sentiment is doubled when you find his eyes and see nothing but sincerity in their darkness. He’s never studied you this way. It steals your breath, renders you in silent anticipation for what comes next.

“Look, I’m a fucking idiot.”

That actually makes you laugh, though it’s somewhat strangled as you wipe away the last of the tears. “Well, we both knew that. But why this time?”

“I… I shouldn’t have ignored you.” He drops his hand from your cheek. It sits against your bare thigh, the skin growing hot where you’re connected. “But I was scared. I felt ashamed and more than a little pissed off that you stood up to Jiwon when I couldn’t.” You say nothing. But that seems to make him even more jittery as he bursts out with, “E-Especially since you’re so god damn perfect all the time!”

“Perfect?” You repeat, bewildered as it couldn’t be further from the truth. “What the hell are you going on about?”

“You know… You just. You have your shit perfectly figured out! It just reminds me that I’m a mess.”

“No, I really don’t. Trust me.” Is that what he’s thought of you this whole time? No wonder he was so irritable. It’s almost laughable. “But Yoongi, why didn’t you confront Jiwon?”

He sighs at that, long and deep. “Just… After the whole incident, I had trouble writing. I had all this anger inside me. I didn’t know what to do with it. I wrote diss tracks but they all sounded unoriginal, whiny. Pop songs were the same. Generic and boring. I kept trying to write something better than ‘We Don’t Talk Together’. I was obsessed.” Yoongi is babbling faster, like a dam finally broken and flooding. You’re not afraid of the waters.

“It was easier for me. Easy to just blame everything on Jiwon, say it’s his fault the songs weren’t coming to me. So when he apologized…” He gives a laugh, but it’s a self-deprecating one. “I’ve spent the past weeks getting to this point, I guess. Of accepting that this shitty thing happened. I think I’m finally ready to move the fuck on. I hated that you made me confront that at the time, though.”

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, unable to resist the opportunity to poke at him. Hey, he made you cry. He deserves it.

“Uh huh.” Yoongi reaches behind his back to find the bag he threw momentarily aside. “So that’s why this CD is unnecessary. You don’t need to apologize to me.” He hands it to you. “Thank you. For helping me out. Even though I don’t deserve it.”

You set the bag on the table. “Of course, Yoongi. I wouldn’t just abandon you.”

“I know.” He actually smiles, eyes waning as your heart gives an extra loud thud.

The conversation peters out. You sit soaked in tension, unsure what the hell to do now. Especially because you’re hyperaware that his knee is right against yours and it feels like a million degrees, but neither of you are moving away. Your eyes are still locked to his, unfathomable and unyielding as you awkwardly hold wimpy grins. Even in this situation, your mind won’t stop running to inappropriate places, urging you to lean forward and kiss those pink lips.

But how does Yoongi feel?

“I, uh...” Yoongi gives a start as if he’s read your mind, but he doesn’t finish his thought.

“Anyway...” He hangs his head, cuts himself off again. “I was going to say...” Another trailing, unfinished sentence.

“You okay?” You murmur, his apparent nerves soothing your own.

“Agh, damn it. Okay. Here. Just – listen to this, okay?”

Yoongi whips out his phone, taps on the screen a few times before he places it on the table. Seconds later, music starts to play, a song you’ve never heard before. You tap your foot along to the opening synth, feeling the jazzy beat. Then a familiar voice comes on.

“Yoongi, is this you?!” You cry out, immediately reaching for the phone to turn the volume up.

Yoongi nods, saying nothing but his grin grows at how excited you are. You see the flash of gums, recognize it as the smile usually only reserved for customers. God, how your heart continues to flipflop at the sight.

You lean forward, trying to catch the fast-flowing rap. It’s poetic, weaves a story of a couple around the metaphor of a seesaw. A constant back and forth that ends in heartbreak, a dissolving that’s ultimately better for both parties in the end. When it ends, you instantly want to listen to it again – it’s that addicting.

“This is the song I wrote for the competition. I wanted to show you, since… Yeah.”

“Wow, it’s so good, Yoongi. I swear, you’re going to win.” You want to put this song in your music library and play it on repeat until you know every line. You play it again, listen silently as you really absorb the piece. “I really love the lyrics. And how it progresses. Also, how the singer leaves in the end, alone. I think too many songs out there promote the exact opposite message, even if it’s a shitty relationship, ya know?”

Yoongi nods, cheeks slightly flushed, but he looks so pleased. “Actually, this song,” his breath hitches, “I wrote it about you.”

“Me?”

At first, you’re flattered, beaming even. Then you remember the song’s contents.

“Umm... Wait...” You frown. He’s not saying... “You want to ‘put an end’ to us?” Hell, you didn’t even know there was an ‘us’ to be had!

“Ah, no!” Yoongi’s sleepy eyes blow wide, almost comically so with panic. “No. Definitely not.” His hands clench his knees tightly, as if to stop them from shaking. “I... wanna stop this ambiguous back and forth. This seesaw that we’re on. Of not being just coworkers but not really being anything more than that either.”

“...You want to be more?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as if you can scarcely believe it.

“Yes.” He exhales. “I want more. I want to be with you. Try things out with you. See where they go.” He drums his fingers against his leg. “You make me a better person. And I want to be there for you too.” His lips quirk up, not sure what expression to land on in his nervousness. “That is, uh, if you’ll have me.”

He’s adorable. So freaking cute. You never thought you would see Yoongi like this, and it’s just about the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen.

You lean forward and press your lips to his in answer.

Yoongi is soft.

You feel him hesitate for all of a second before he’s kissing you back, really kissing you back with all of his might. It’s sloppy and your rhythm is all off, but the passion that radiates from him pours the sweetest honey into your system to douse you in heat. He scarcely breaks away to breathe as he tilts his head, searching for a better angle to move against your mouth, to reaffirm this is truly happening and not just some fever dream.

His arms wind around your frame, tugging you closer as if he can’t bear to have any space between you while his tongue traces the outline of your lips. You open for him instinctively, unable to refuse any of his silent requests to taste. You’ve both been denied for too long, but time has not made you forget the curve of his mouth, the nibbles he loves to inflict. His breath tickles your skin as you finally find your pace together. A wild beat you thought you’d lost forever but now roars back to life.

That’s why you’re practically scrambling into his lap, shoving him backwards on the couch in your urgency. Having him against you, tongue flicking against yours, wipes away all thoughts save for him and how incredible this feels, how he feels. It makes you greedy for more, especially more of the muted groans of need that you coax from his throat and swallow.

It’s only when you scrunch your fingers around the back of his neck and come away slightly damp that you finally pause. “Ew, you’re all sweaty,” you tease with a cheeky grin.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, damn it.” There’s the Yoongi you know so well.

“Rude.”

“You like me rude.” Just to prove his point, he shifts his hips, grinds his bulge against your needy core. Separated only by thin layers of fabric, you can feel him so well you can’t help but get wetter from the mere promise of him.

“T-That’s a damn lie.” But you’re flustered, distracted by the desire surging through your veins at the danger in his tone. It’s all too easy for you two to bring out the sass in each other, but now it keeps you on your toes, thrill in your system.

“Oh? So you don’t want me to throw you onto the bed and spank you until you come?” He accents his filthy words with hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your jaw, down your neck. This feels right. So fucking right, he wouldn’t stop for the world. He guides your loose top away, sucking wetly at the skin he exposes. Promising much more in the way of dark violet marks, but not giving it just yet.

“Well, I-I’m not saying that...”

That makes him laugh as he digs both hands beneath your ass and hauls you into the air. “That’s what I thought.” Your legs wrap around his hips, arms around his back. Hold him like he’s yours.

Though it’s a short few steps from the couch to bed, Yoongi keeps his mouth on your skin as if he’s mapping – every bit as desperate to know your body as you do his. He runs his tongue along the curve of your shoulder, obeying his instinctual desire to test your tolerance with the occasional bite. He grins at your yelps. You repay him by tugging at his scruff of hair, nails scraping the skin.

When his leg knocks against the bedframe, you expect him to fling you onto the sheets as promised. Instead he bends, lets you tumble down softly before joining you on the mattress with one knee. Yoongi glows in the dim lamplight, fair skin glistening with lingering sweat as he tugs off his shirt. You’ve never seen anything sexier in your life as he crawls between your legs, forcing them to spread with the hands that slide up your thighs.

“You look like you want something,” he utters in a low tone, toying with the seam of your panties. They are unfortunately plain, but he drinks them in as if they’re made of gold. Touches them with none of that delicacy though, as he hooks fingers under the band and threatens to rip.

You shift your hips, needing friction but he just teases you, lets the cotton drag across your skin only for him to pull it infuriatingly back into place. “Are you going to give it to me if I say yes?”

“Maybe, if you’re a good girl.”

Oh god. You’ve never been called that in your life but when he growls it out in that languid, devil-may-care way, you think you might just be whipped. You’d thought Yoongi devastating before, but that was nothing compared to the intimacy dripping from his fingertips as he removes them from your panties, begins the torturous ascent up your waist. Your whines of protest melt into moans when he eases your top over your head, exposing your naked body to him for the first time.

“Oh, fuck.” Yoongi goes blank. He swears every ounce of blood in him rushes to his swollen cock at the sight of you laid out like this, ready and wanting for him. The fantasies he’s conjured in his mind are nothing, crude sketches of the masterpiece that is your body, your smile, you. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.”

The honesty in those whispered, reverent words bolsters the flush creeping beneath your skin. It’s with a smile that you arch into his mouth when he wraps his lips around your nipple in a perfect fit. He sucks hard, noisy and lewd, forcing gasps that make you glad your apartment walls are somewhat thick. But when his tongue swivels amidst the bites he lavishes on your peak, you are reduced to whimpers in his hands. He’s an expert at combining pain with absolute pleasure until your mind is in utter shambles. Shattered even more so when his fingers find your neglected breast, his remaining free hand cupping greedy handfuls of your behind.

When you shift your knee to rub against the pronounced bulge in his sweats, he smacks his palm against your asscheek to a satisfying crack. “Patience is a virtue,” he warns, trailing his tongue to the valley between your breasts. Slathers wet heat on your skin, the curves of your chest even though you’re already burning up from his touch.

But you’re more than willing to play his game. You prove so when you grope his fabric-swaddled cock, massage until you hear the music of his hitched breaths. “I’m not trying to be virtuous.” Then you steal his smirk for your own use while you run fingers along the side of his shaft. His frenulum is sensitive as ever beneath your persistent hand; he bucks when you grind your thumb into the nerves.

“A-Ah!” You yelp when you feel the fresh sting, looking down to find that Yoongi has left his first love bite at the swell of your breast. It blooms in deep, sinful red. Damn if you don’t want him to leave five, ten, twenty more. You want that damnable mouth on you anywhere he can reach until you ache with the reminder of him.

“Thought I told you to be good.” He stares down his nose at you. The act is not nearly as intimidating as it had been in the backroom of the café, but still every bit as arousing. Especially when he pairs it with a sly finger trailing down your slit, the sensation frustratingly dulled by your soaked underwear.

It’s a miracle you can summon the strength to talk back. “Oops. My bad,” you reply in a voice that tells him you’re not sorry in the slightest. Goading Yoongi is a form of art that you have perfected.

Amused and more than a little turned on by your disobedience, he rocks back onto his knees. “On your stomach. Now.”

Oh, yes please. You obey without hesitation, pressing your chest to the warm sheets. You shiver when you feel his hands fit along your waist, as if testing his grip for later use. How hard would he squeeze as he fucks you? As he feeds you every hot inch of his erection, the skin taut and hard for want of your cunt? You tense your thighs in longing, not wanting to wait a second longer to feel him inside you.

But you don’t have a choice.

You lunge forward when the first smack lands on your ass. You cry out, face half-buried in the pillow as pleasure radiates from your burning cheek. Yet you’re still raising your hips for more. You love the pain, addicted to the visceral reaction it beckons from your body.

But your squeal gives Yoongi pause. “Is that too hard?” He asks, breath brushing across your skin.

You throw a coy glance backwards. “Never.”

Your answer is accepted with a second slap, a punishment that makes your body shudder further into your mattress. “My little slut,” Yoongi snarls, enjoying the way the possessive words feel on his tongue. “Bet you’re ruining those panties of yours.”

Smack. Fuck, you swear he’s leaving imprints of his palm behind. You wish you could see.

“Totally soaked.” You rock onto your elbows, push your sore ass into his palm. Hope you can convince him to lose control and just fill you up. “So ready for your cock, Yoongi...”

You don’t see how he squeezes his eyes together, biting back the surge of hormones; they bid him to throw all restraint away to sink into your heat. “Not just yet.” Your undies are tugged down, rendered useless and tossed somewhere onto the floor. Chills run through your spine as you’re bared for the second time tonight. He forces your hips up and before you can even breathe, licks a long stripe across your cunt.

“Oh, fuck.”

You cannot stand Min Yoongi and that devil’s tongue he curls around your clit. He drags the tip across your sensitive bead, understanding where you’re too sensitive and then deliberately stimulating that very spot to make your knees buck. Pleasure floods your body, makes your every limb white hot and weak, a mess for one man. You knew he was dangerous from the very start, but that never could have stopped you. Your body reflects just how hopelessly you’ve fallen, pushed to the brink of climax faster than you’ve ever been before.

“So fucking sweet.” His fingers dig dimples into your ass, spreading you wide so he can have his fill. His tongue glides along your curves, taking his time instead of being so focused on chasing climax as he had that first time. Now he’s hungry for knowledge, for intimacy he can only find with you as his landscape. And if he makes you cum a thousand times in the process of that quest, well. You’ll survive somehow.

When his tongue slips into your heat, you almost lose it. He thrusts it like he fucks: ruthlessly, flawlessly. As if you’re the only thing that matters right now, and his only desire in the world is to have you quivering on his lips. A wish he’s getting twofold.

“Close, so close, Yoongi, ah—”

“Yeah, I can feel it.” He sounds utterly entranced, the drawled words thick with longing. “Want you to cum around my tongue. Can you do that for me?” He poses the question as if you have a choice. As if you can do anything against the onslaught of bliss tangling themselves in your veins, demanding that you release.

All because of that accursed mouth that has you at its mercy, whether between the sheets or out. Too compelling for your weary nerves to resist when his hand whips across your skin and without warning, you’re cumming. Tears prick, rolling down your face as he spanks you again, this time even harder, and your climax becomes unbearable in bliss. You were not prepared for the tsunami it is, crashing onto you, sweeping you away.

“Yoongi!” The name is muffled by the pillow you stuff your face in, muscles screaming at you to stop tensing but you can’t, you goddamn can’t. Crest after crest of sensation radiate through you in time with the throbs of your sodden walls. You swear he grins against your pussy as you rock your hips like you’re in heat. Your skin is so sensitive it almost hurts but you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck me, Yoongi, please, god, I need your cock in me right fucking now.” Your voice is desperate and begging and any other time, you would be mortified but all you can think of now is how you need to be filled. To have every crevice of your throbbing pussy stuffed with Yoongi’s cock so he understands just what he’s done to you. Wrecked you, ruined you for anyone else.

“Oh fuck.” He was not expecting you to turn the tables but here you are, fucked out and still so needy for more. His sweatpants join your panties, cock springing free, the deep-red tip leaking from all it’s been denied. God, how he wants to fuck that pretty whine in your voice into moans.

“All of you, Yoongi. Wanna feel the stretch.” He’s taking too long; you’ve always been impatient.

Yoongi will never forget the sight of you spreading your own cheeks to show him, seduce him with how your cunt drips from anticipation. But it’s the look in your eyes, the affection mingled with the heat that has him plunging half of his cock into you in one stroke.

“So tight for me, h-huh? What a good girl,” Yoongi growls, trying his best not to cum instantly from the way you take him. Just swallow him with such ease, yet still squeeze him like a vice. He’s missed this pussy so much, hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since that night. He’s finished himself countless nights to the memory but now you’re really here; now you cry for him in that tremulous tone that drives him wild.

One of Yoongi’s hands goes as promised on your waist, but the other weaves into your hair to grip at the roots. He doesn’t tug yet, testing your limits, careful to respect them. He’s rewarded with a moan as he bottoms out at the same time he gives his first light tug. Now every thick inch of cock is finally swathed in you, and you are filled to the brim, just like you craved.

“This okay?” He asks, massaging the crook of your perspiration-dotted back with his thumb.

“Mhm...” You slur it like you’re drunk but it’s just the moment, the pleasure forcing you into submission. You love the juxtaposition only Yoongi brings out for you, how he instinctually knows exactly what you seek.

“More?”

You rut into him, feel that friction kindle something indescribable, deeply carnal in your core. “Always.”

It is here that Yoongi realizes how gone he is for you.

You’re incredible. Fucking incredible. He tries to tell you this with every pump he sends into you. So damn hungry but still careful not to pull too hard on your locks even though he thinks you might like that, minx that you are. The gasps just continue to fall from his mouth as he just feels himself drown in you. You fit around him like you were made to take his cock and then some. He wants to give you everything. But first he’ll start with pleasure. Pleasure so intense you’ll forget even your own name.

You’re closer to that goal than he knows. You’re falling into the rough staccato rhythm he sets, bodies slamming together again and again until your mouth feels dry for all the moans you can’t staunch. It sends you soaring: the ache of his fist in your hair, the burn of the stretch that you know will stay with you for hours after. It’s all in service of the inevitable crash that will ruin you.

Yoongi’s thighs have started to burn with strain but he doesn’t dare stop, doesn’t think he could. Not when you’re both teetering on the cusp; ready to fall, not apart, but finally together.

“Y-Yoongi...!” On one particularly hard thrust, you rear up, back pressed firmly against his sweaty chest. He lets go of your hair to curl his arms around you, clutching you as he thrusts upwards to hit your core. You focus on the sole task of breathing. But you fail even that when his fingers find your clit, rough and imprecise in his animalistic movements. It’s still enough.

This is how you cum – speared and full and deliriously sated.

He can’t hold out any longer when you find your peak. His teeth scrape your shoulder, but you can only register pleasure as he grinds out his own orgasm against your ass. You feel him spill deeply inside; it feeds some innate need you didn’t even know you had. Reaching behind, you hold him close as he does you, heartbeats pulsing to the same beat as you let the noises speak for you.

When the high relents, you collapse onto your palms, practically faceplant into your pillow as the aftershocks shudder their way through you. It’s a good few moments before you can roll onto your side, to face Yoongi who has done the same on your right. You feel like a mess, but he looks at you as if he’s never seen anything more stunning in his life.

“I... Wow.”

“Yeah...”

For a minute, all you can do is grin at each other, silly smiles stretched wide across your kiss-bitten lips.

Eventually, Yoongi flips onto his back, chest still heaving. “That was actually meant to be gentler,” he mumbles, staring pointedly at the ceiling. “Since our first time was me getting carried away. And the second.”

“Looks like you just can’t help yourself around me, huh?” You tease, hoping you’ll make him blush, or hit you back with something equally sarcastic.

“Yeah. I really can’t.” He says it so honestly, you melt a little into the sheets.

You shuffle closer to him; he automatically raises his arm to let you in. “Stay over tonight, okay?” You say, kissing his bare chest as you cuddle in. Relish the fact you can just reach out and he’s there. Solid, warm, there. “Not like you have work tomorrow, right?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He kicks the light covers up with a foot, pulls it over your body so you don’t feel the chill even though his body keeps you running hot. You hum as he runs his fingers down your back, rubbing at that sore spot just right. You fall into cozy silence, tracing the contours of his damp torso, running over the curves you couldn’t before.

“On Monday, I’m going to give Mina my two weeks notice.”

Whoa.

You shove up from Yoongi. Turning with utter surprise on your face, you cry, “What?” You unintentionally crush blankets in your fists. “Why?” When you’ve finally worked things out between you?

“As much as I want to stay, I’m… I’m going to try to produce full time.” His eyebrows furrow together. He sucks in a breath. “Being at the café took up all my spare time and while it was a good distraction after the whole thing, I... I don’t need it anymore. I’m going to chase after what I really want to do.” The relief that soaks his voice tells you he’s finally figured it out. “And I’m going to do it on my own. Without Jiwon. Without his help.”

“Oh, Yoongi...” Your heart floods with nervous excitement. You are not really a fan of change, but this is different. This is a step in the direction he was always too afraid to take. You flop back beside him, let him eagerly draw you back into his arms. “I’ll support you as much as I can. I know you can do it, babe.”

“Babe?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t like it?”

“Mmn. Like it... more than I thought I would.” His voice is practically a mumble by the end as he hides embarrassment with a nuzzle into your head.

You’re grinning as the most welcome thought strikes. “Hey, maybe whoever replaces you will finally be on time!”

Yoongi smirks. “Unfortunately, your boyfriend may sometimes still be a little late.”

You tap his cute nose, his squishy cheeks. “Oh, is that what you are now?”

“Yup.” He proceeds to bury his face into your hair, pressing kisses and inhaling the scent he doesn’t think he’ll ever get his fill of. “You’re stuck with me.”

You chuckle as you snuggle further into his warm embrace. it just feels right to be here somehow. Ironic, that ‘here’ is pressed up against the man who can get under your skin like no other. Maybe you’re a masochist, but you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be.

Lying here, listening to him slip into slumber, the apprehensive energy in you just melts away despite the feeling that you’re about to embark on a journey that you’re sure will be anything but easy. But as long as you’re with him... You smile. Then you let the anxious thoughts go, finally surrendering to the sleep that his steady rise-and-fall brings.

Turns out, Min Yoongi isn’t the absolute worst after all.

a/n: yeah, i know, who still makes CDs in 2019? :p but sending over a Spotify playlist isn’t nearly as romantic. hehe. thank you for sticking with me until the end of my first series. i learnt so much through writing it and had a ton of fun! please let me know what you think of the ending, yeah? ;) i hope you all enjoyed TES ♡

huge, enourmous thank you to my betas: @hoseoksdior, @sweetlyseokjin, @jiminspjm, @mypurplelamp, @bigtiddiejoon! 💖 this fic would not have come through without their efforts!!

special shoutout to MISS ARI @flowerymoonlight who hyped me TF up & had to survive the snippets i sent her at 2 in the morning. ily babe, you have a special place in my heart ALWAYS.

p.s. you can find more minis of this couple on my masterlist!

#btssmutclub #bts smut #bts reactions #bts imagines #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #coffeehouse au #college au #e2l #rain writes #the early shift #it's ended ahhhh #i can't believe we got here in (mostly) one piece

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kaesaaurelia · 3 years

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books and reading in 2021

Overall I’d like to read at least 65 books for 2021 and I’d like for most of those to be new-to-me and things I either already own or have listed as to-read on Goodreads.

So far I have read 11/65 books and 4 fanworks.

Themed reading challenge checklists and brief book reviews are under the cut. I may or may not finish any of these challenges; again, my goal is to cut down my to-be-read list and unread books I own, and themes and deadlines help me pick a book rather than hemming and hawing.

Book reviews answer the questions “Did I like it? Was it good? Would I recommend it?” (please note these are very different questions) and how many stars I rated it.

I may put fanfiction, webfiction, and other things that are very much not traditional books down on here as well, depending on how booklike I’ve decided they are.

The FFA reading challenge, 2021 (2/12 books)

JANUARY - The Pandemic Year - a medical thriller, or a book about medicine The Poisoner's Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York by Deborah Blum Did I like it? Yeah! Was it good? I think so. Sometimes the prose meandered in such a way that I felt the author was kind of saying dun dun dun! under her breath at me, and I was like “idk, is that significant?” but usually it was good. Would I recommend it? Do you have a strong stomach? Then sure. 4 stars

FEBRUARY - Macavity/Ratigan - a genre you wouldn't normally read Jane Doe by Victoria Helen Stone, book 1 in the Jane Doe series Did I like it? Yes! Very much! The power fantasy of being able to take vengeance against people who hurts your loved ones, without feeling bad about it, was really appealing to me, a person who feels guilt over a frankly ridiculous number of things. It was also genuinely funny. Was it good? I thought so. The narrator had a really strong voice that struck the right balance between creepy cold indifference and endearing little moments of self-discovery. Would I recommend it? Yes, but with the caveat that there’s some pretty serious emotional abuse of the protagonist’s false persona (which she encourages and privately gloats about), and she also gets close to committing serious violence, including fantasizing at length about it. 5 stars

MARCH – 100+ Comments of Terror - a book set in the arctic, or a book about an expedition In the Land of White Death: An Epic Story of Survival in the Siberian Arctic by Valerian Albanov (ordered)

APRIL - Sexy John Oliver Rat – a book about animals, or a book with a character called Oliver or Olivia A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear by Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling (hardcover)

MAY - A Feud in Wolf-Kink Erotica - a book involving wolves, the legal system, or ripped from the headlines Song of the Summer King by Jess Owen (ebook)

JUNE - Showerhead Wank - a comedy of manners, an etiquette manual, or a book where someone wanks or has sex

JULY – My Shithead Is What You Are! - a book with profanity in it, or a book about themes of censorship

AUGUST - Yep, Still Indoors - a book involving travel, or being stuck in one place

SEPTEMBER - Socktopus, Maybe? - a book where someone has a secret identity, or a book about aquatic animals

OCTOBER - Politics is Sequestered – a book involving politics or politicians Boss: Richard J. Daley of Chicago by Mike Royko (owned in DRM’d ebook)

NOVEMBER - It's Canon in Spanish - read a book originally written in Spanish, or set in Latin America

DECEMBER - Apple Is a One Syllable Word - a book about language/linguistics/etc., or a book with a two syllable title.

Around the Year in 52 Books (8/52 books)

A book related to “In the Beginning...”: (Using the subprompt a book set in the ancient world) The Odyssey by Homer, translated by Emily Wilson Did I like it? Yes; it was definitely a less comfortable read than prior translations I have read, but a more interesting one, I think. A lot of details leapt out at me that I had either forgotten or that had been overlooked in the 3ish literature classes I have read the Odyssey for. Was it good? Yes! Would I recommend it? Probably, with the caveat that if you are just in it for a cool mythology story you would probably prefer an adaptation rather than a translation. 5 stars

A book by an author whose name doesn't contain the letters A, T or Y The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis Did I like it? I really read this for the worldbuilding of Hell, so I liked that; to some extent I did also like some of the musings on how a lot of human foibles that people like to think of as virtues can actually be kind of shitty. On the other hand, Lewis and I disagree about a lot of things -- mostly that whole Christianity thing. So I liked it with caveats. Was it good? It was okay! Again, I was not really there for the Christianity stuff. I am never there for the Christianity stuff. I am either precisely the wrong audience for all of C.S. Lewis’ stuff, or, if you look at it a certain way, precisely the right audience, but even if you look at it that way, he is never going to convince me; I wrote furious postcanon fanfiction about the dwarfs when I reread the Narnia books as a teenager and realized they were meant to represent people like me. Would I recommend it? Probably not? Unless you frequently write demons or other evil creatures trying to figure out how humans work, which I guess I am. 4 stars but only because that reveal at the end is great

A book related to the lyrics for the song "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music (The cover depicts a rose with raindrops or dewdrops on it.) Ensnared by Rita Stradling Did I like it? In a sense. In a sense, I enjoyed this book. It was a Beauty and the Beast retelling, and I like Beauty and the Beast. There were robots, and I like robots. And it certainly gave me something fun to talk about. However, it also inspired me to try and figure out when and why I acquired this book, and while I still don’t know why I bought it, I was relieved to find that I only paid 99 cents for it. For a more thorough description of the plot, please see my Goodreads review. It was a weird book to start with, and then it really, really didn’t age well. Was it good? IT SURE WASN’T. Would I recommend it? No. However, if you decide to read it I’d love to hear what you think. Please. Please talk to me about this book. 2 stars

A book with a monochromatic cover The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson Did I like it? Yes, very much! Also it accidentally became fic research. I genuinely was just thinking “where do I slip Leonard into this narrative so he can try and fail to sabotage the Ferris Wheel?” and then I began to think about how much Leonard would admire and envy H. H. Holmes’ ladykilling ways. But in general it was a really good read and had a lot of... Chicagoness, which I of course am fond of. Was it good? I thought so! Obviously a lot of the narratives of Holmes’ murders were mostly the author’s speculation, but there were a lot of great research tidbits in there, and the picture the author paints of the World’s Fair was vivid and wonderful. Would I recommend it? Yes, with the warning that this is true crime and there is vivid narration of several murders, including the murders of several children. 5 stars

A book by an author on USA Today's list of 100 Black Novelists You Should Read Wild Seed by Octavia Butler, book 1 of the Patternmaster series Did I like it? Yes, but it was intense. It takes a lot of skill to keep me reading and invested through so many horrors; the protagonist’s children and loved ones die on-page multiple times, in horrible accidents or senselessly murdered, and it hurts every time, but I kept reading. Admittedly I am (predictably) extremely here for immortal enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies angst, so that was probably part of it. Was it good? Yes! I am kind of sad that I’m not just moving on to the next in the series (there are 3 more books), but also, god, I’m not sure I could handle it. Would I recommend it? Yes, definitely, with the caveat that it is very dark and very sad. 5 stars

A love story Deal with the Devil by Kit Rocha, book 1 of the Mercenary Librarians series Did I like it? It was good! I gather both of the authors who are Kit Rocha were (are still?) in fandom, and it shows in the right ways; it doesn’t shy away from depicting sex pretty explicitly but there’s a lot of emotion in it, and the main couple is a m/f couple without the book being unpleasantly heteronormative. Like, yeah, it’s about a big butch macho dude who’s broken inside and a woman who’s very caring, but the big butch macho dude is genuinely kind and not like, violent for the hell of it or overprotectively jealous, and the woman doesn’t drop everything to Heal His Pain. (Also I think most of the characters, including the romantic leads, are established to have had same-gender lovers at one point or another without that being considered unusual or wrong in the setting, so that’s nice.) It’s also a cheerful and optimistic post-apocalyptic book about two found families coming together to make the world a better place, despite the very grim backstories of pretty much everyone in the story, which is really nice. Was it good? It was okay. It was good popcorny reading; it’s not winning any literature prizes, but it sets out to be fun and readable and exciting, and it is all of those things. Also, as noted above, the prose has a lot of the strengths of fanfic (not being afraid to mix genres, not being afraid of writing sex earnestly and emotionally but also explicitly, strong emotional focus) without the much-derided stereotypical weaknesses of fanfic. Would I recommend it? Probably? This isn’t a must-read; it’s happy to be idfic so if it sounds like it’d scratch your id I would recommend it, but it might not be Your Thing and that’s okay too. 4 stars

A book that fits a prompt suggestion that didn't make the final list (Using the subprompt a book related to a local industry or small business) The Gangs of Chicago: An Informal History of the Chicago Underworld by Herbert Asbury Did I like it? NO. NO I DID NOT. It made me genuinely angry. It was a useful read for fic research and unfortunately I’ve got it in my little fic-writing reference material corner in my office but I DID NOT LIKE THIS BOOK IT WAS VERY BAD. Many questionable or outright incorrect assertions and implications, and extremely racist and sexist. For details, see my review on Goodreads. Was it good? It was actively bad. Would I recommend it? Not unless you are interested in it historiographically, or on the off chance that you are trying to find some fiddly details about a particular bit of Chicago crime history, but also have no responsibility to make sure those fiddly details are correct when you use them in the project. 1 star

A book set in a state, province, or country you have never visited The Last Duel: A True Story of Crime, Scandal, and Trial by Combat in Medieval France by Eric Jager Did I like it? It was okay. It was definitely interesting but not amazingly life-changing. Was it good? It was fine! I did think the underlying rape case was handled surprisingly sensitively given that this was a male author writing about 20 years ago about a medieval rape accusation and trial, but there is a chapter that is basically just the victim’s account of her rape, and it’s very brutal. Would I recommend it? Do you want to understand more about trial by combat in the Middle Ages, and/or learn about how medieval people treated rape victims? You should definitely read this book. But if that doesn’t particularly interest you, probably not. 3 stars

A book you associate with a specific season or time of year Summers at Castle Auburn (ebook borrowed from CPL)

A book with a female villain or criminal Sin in the Second City: Madams, Ministers, Playboys, and the Battle for America's Soul by Karen Abbott (owned in paperback)

A book to celebrate The Grand Egyptian Museum The Oasis by Pauline Gedge (ebook)

A book eligible for the Warwick Prize for Women in Translation The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa (on hold at CPL; est. 3 week wait)

A book written by an author of one of your best reads of 2020 The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow (on hold at CPL; est. 10 week wait???)

A book set in a made-up place Kushiel's Dart by Jacqueline Carey (paperback)

A book that features siblings as the main characters Sisters One, Two, Three by Nancy Star (ebook)

A book with a building in the title

A book with a Muslim character or author

3 books related to "Past, Present, Future" - Book 1

3 books related to "Past, Present, Future" - Book 2

3 books related to "Past, Present, Future" - Book 3

A book whose title and author both contain the letter "u"

A book posted in one of the ATY Best Book of the Month threads

A cross genre novel

A book about racism or race relations

A book set on an island

A short book (<210 pages) by a new-to-you author

A book with a character who can be found in a deck of cards

A book connected to ice

A book that you consider comfort reading

A long book

A book by an author whose career spanned more than 21 years

A book whose cover shows more than 2 people

A collection of short stories, essays, or poetry

A book with a travel theme

A book set in a country on or below the Tropic of Cancer

A book with six or more words in the title

A book from the Are You Well Read in World Literature list

A book related to a word given by a random word generator

A book involving an immigrant

A book with flowers or greenery on the cover

A book by a new-to-you BIPOC author

A mystery or thriller

A book with elements of magic

A book whose title contains a negative

A book related to a codeword from the NATO Phonetic Alphabet

A winner or nominee from the 2020 Goodreads Choice Awards

A non-fiction book other than biography, autobiography or memoir

A book that might cause someone to react “You read what?!?” Missing 411: Eastern United States by David Paulides (terrible pdf copy I’m not paying $100 for a book about extradimensional bigfoot)

A book with an ensemble cast

A book published in 2021

A book whose title refers to person(s) without giving their name

A book related to "the end"

There’s No Business Like Snow Business February Reading Challenge (8/8)

Snow is precipitation in the form of small white ice crystals formed directly from the water vapor of the air at a temperature of less than 0°C (32°F).

Read a book that has snow on the cover or snow in the title. Killing Dragons: The Conquest of the Alps by Fergus Fleming Did I like it? It was okay. There was more about the personalities involved in early mountaineering than I did about actual mountain-climbing, which was fine, but didn’t get really exciting until those personalities got really dysfunctional. Was it good? Again, it was okay. The prose wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t gripping, and there was some odd (lack of) translation on occasion. The research seemed thorough and solid, though. Would I recommend it? Not really, unless you are specifically looking to research the Alps or early European mountain-climbing enthusiasts for a writing project or something, in which case, of course. 3 stars

Precipitation: Read a book that has any weather related term in the title. Trail of Lightning, book 1 of The Sixth World, by Rebecca Roanhorse Did I like it? Yes! This took me back to my first forays into urban fantasy as a preteen/young teen. I loved the Diana Tregarde books and also Harry Turtledove’s The Case of the Toxic Spell Dump, and whenever I want urban fantasy that’s kind of the pattern I’m looking for? An unfriendly world full of myths that are real and living and breathing and otherworldly but also they are probably trying to bum a cigarette off you. I haven’t reread my favorite childhood urban fantasy because I think it probably won’t hold up, and later urban fantasy has mostly been not quite what I wanted, but this book was like being that kid all over again. I’m not super familiar with Dine folklore/mythology so it was neat to learn a little bit about that, too, although obviously to learn those stories maybe don’t go to an urban fantasy novel. Was it good? It was pretty good! The prose wasn’t like, stylistically exciting, but it conveyed the plot well, and I did like the narrative voice, and the characterization was good, I thought. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Content warning for violence (as per urban fantasy) and a child dies violently early on in the book, but if you were the kind of kid I was but you’re not really into paranormal romance or Harry Dresden, give it a try. 4 stars

Small: Read a book that has less than 200 pages. A Butt in the Mist: Stirred to the Core of My Bodice by the Duchess Triceratops of Helena by Chuck Tingle Did I like it? I mostly did, but it wasn’t super exciting. I liked the free book afterwards better. It was funny, but Chuck’s been funnier. Was it good? This 4,000 word book was written with all the quality and attention to detail that I have come to expect from beloved author Chuck Tingle. Would I recommend it? Not really? It was funny, but I think I like his more metafictional stuff better, and I think he gets a lot weirder with his m/m stuff; if I’m reading Chuck Tingle, I want it to be weird. 3 stars

Snow is formed of crystals and is a slang term for diamonds. Read a book in which a gem or other mineral can be found in the plot, title, or cover art. Ombria in Shadow by Patricia A. McKillip Did I like it? Mostly! I love the lush visuals of McKillip’s prose; they more than live up to the also gorgeous covers. Dreamy fairytale stuff but with solid emotions and a good sense of place. Was it good? I think so, although the dreamlike quality of the prose does mean you’re liable to miss something if your attention drifts. Would I recommend it? Yes, I think so. 5 stars

Snow is a dessert made of stiffly beaten whites of eggs, sugar, and fruit pulp. Read a book with a dessert on the cover, or read a book in which a dessert is made. Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder by Joanne Fluke, book 1 of the Hannah Swensen series Did I like it? I enjoyed parts of it, but I thought it really suffered at the beginning, when our introduction to the detective was “not like other girls, not interested in DATING and MEN” and our introduction to her older sister is “she was a DITZY CHEERLEADER and now she’s married with a kid but she’s a HORRIBLE CAREER HARPY who WORKS ALL DAY and puts her child in DAYCARE and CAN’T COOK” and that was all just very tiresome. The sister does turn out to have redeeming qualities and useful interests, but the way these two and their mother interact is all like, if you were asking yourself whether there’s such a thing as toxic femininity and what that would look like, it’s these women. Aside from that, it was fine; it was a cozy mystery novel about a bakery specializing in cookies. I will say, I did appreciate the Midwesternness of the small town Midwest setting. Was it good? Not really. I did kind of have to handwave a lot to let the detective get away with all the HIPAA violations and crime scene disturbing that she does, but it is a cozy mystery. Would I recommend it? Probably not; I’ve heard this series gets better so if you’re interested in the series and/or like the idea of cookie-themed cozies, maybe start with a different book, unless you’re a completist like I am. 3 stars

Snow is slang for cocaine. Read a book about drugs or drug addiction. The Man With the Golden Arm by Nelson Algren Did I like it? It was not a fun read, by any means, but Algren’s prose is fantastic and it was such a novelty to see such a familiar accent represented by eye dialect. (Which I know has fallen out of fashion and is considered the mark of a bad writer, but I really don’t mind it if it’s done well.) It’s one of those books where nobody has a fair shake and everybody is doomed, but it doesn’t feel gratuitous. All the characters are horrible to each other, but in fairness they are also horrible to themselves; it’s all they’ve ever known. Was it good? Yes. It was extremely good and I’m considering buying a physical copy so I can write things in the margins. This is actually really weird for me to do; in high school we occasionally had to turn our books in so our teacher could be sure we were writing in them Correctly, and I found it a little painful, but I did want to do it with this book. Would I recommend it? Yes, if you’re up for a really depressing story about heroin addiction and poverty. 5 stars

White is the color of snow. Read a book that contains white in the cover. The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin Did I like it? I definitely did. I haven’t read much Le Guin yet for some reason, and while this did initially start off feeling exactly like just another ‘70s SF story where in the future we’ve solved all of psychology and it’s super mechanistic, it was really fascinating and surprisingly, unpleasantly prescient. Was it good? I thought so! There were some parts of it that were pretty awkward about race, from a 2021 perspective, but it does actually deal with race in a way that made me think “yes, that’s exactly what would happen as a consequence of this plot, and it would be horrible, oh no, oh shit,” and it is horrible. Would I recommend it? I am not sure I would! I would recommend it in like five years, assuming those five years are not much like the last five years. Hoping and praying that those five years are not much like the last five, really. The premise of the book -- which I haven’t explained, I realize -- is that in this near-future environmental dystopia, the main character can change things in real life by dreaming about them, and he would like to not do that, only he is put under the care of a psychiatric researcher who tries to play God. So this poor man literally wakes up every day to a brand new dystopia and it felt... familiar. 4 stars

To snow someone is to deceive, persuade, or charm glibly. Read a book about a con artist, or read a book about deception. Empire of Deception: The Incredible Story of a Master Swindler Who Seduced a City and Captivated the Nation by Dean Jobb Did I like it? I did. I have joked that my own personal reading challenge this year is to fill up the Chicago shelf/tag on my Goodreads account, and this book was recommended to me in that spirit, and I always like hearing about a. Chicago; b. the 1920s; and c. con men conning people. Was it good? The prose was fine; it was fun but I think the thing I appreciated most was all the punny newspaper headlines. Would I recommend it? If you are someone who perks up at the sound of at least 2 out of 3 of the themes of “Chicago,” “1920s,” and “con men,” yes. 4 stars

2021 Q1 challenge: Changes (3/20)

Read a book that features:

The word "change" (Changes, Changing, or other variations) in its title. Weeds: How Vagabond Plants Gatecrashed Civilisation and Changed the Way We Think About Nature by Richard Mabey Did I like it? It was all right. I like hearing about plant history, and the chapter on plants unexpectedly surviving/thriving on battlefields and bombing sites was particularly interesting to me. Was it good? It was okay, but kind of poorly-organized; there were chapter themes but it felt awfully stream-of-consciousness sometimes. Would I recommend it? Maybe not unless you’re really into botany and Western anthropology. (As in, the study of Western cultures; this book does not do much with other cultures.) 3 stars

The theme of money or money on its cover (loose change). Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik Did I like it? I really, really liked it to the point that I feel kind of silly about it, gotta say. I’m really, really hit or miss on the author’s work (both fanfic and profic) but the themes of this were perfect for me; Russian fairytales, a cynical but earnest sort of Judaism, creepy fairy abductions, interesting worldbuilding, and women coming together to help each other. (Also some interesting enemies-to-lovers stuff that wasn’t really developed on the “lovers” side, which I would have dug. Like its precursor, this book has a lot of f/f friends-to-lovers subtext and hostile canon het.) Was it good? I don’t know? I liked it enough that I genuinely don’t know if it was well-written. Would I recommend it? I would, but I’m not sure you should trust me on this??? Again, this book really, really hit me in the id. 5 stars

An adaptation of its original format (book-to-manga, translation, etc.) Murder on the Rockport Limited! by Clint McElroy et al Did I like it? It was okay, but not nearly as good as the original podcast’s murder train arc. The art was good and all, but, eh. Was it good? It was fine. I’m not sure how into the DM/character conversations I am, and I found myself having to pause and reimagine the dialogue in the various McElroys’ voices, which wasn’t good because it meant I wasn’t automatically reading them in those voices in my head, which is a major litmus test I use when I’m deciding whether I want to keep reading a fanfic. Would I recommend it? Definitely not as a standalone thing. 3 stars

The author's initials found in the word "change" Helen of Sparta by Amalia Carosella (in progress)

Separate book sections or part of a series of three or more books (make change) The Seduction of the Crimson Rose by Lauren Willig (in progress)

An author or character writing under a pseudonym The Maker’s Mask by Ankaret Wells (in progress)

A topic or character about which you feel differently now than in the past. La Belle Sauvage by Phillip Pullman

Changing one's mind about a life decision. A Tapestry of Magics by Brian Daley

Switching careers/jobs. The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison

Relocating to a different city, state/province, or country. Fire Season: Field Notes from a Wilderness Lookout by Philip Connors

Cultivating new daily habits. How to Be Fine by Jolenta Greenberg and Kristen Meinzer

A character who shifts shapes or identities. The Lie: A Memoir of Two Marriages, Catfishing & Coming Out by William Dameron

Life changes due to age Two Old Women: An Alaskan Legend of Betrayal, Courage, and Survival by Velma Wallis

A medical transformation Specials by Westerfield, Scott

A life-changing experience. Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, & the Prison of Belief by Lawrence Wright

A changing household The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, A Rún, Volume 1 by Nagabe

An action or phenomenon that transforms society or the world. Hard Times: An Oral History of the Great Depression by Studs Terkel

Replacing one thing with another (change out) In Vino Duplicitas: The Rise and Fall of a Wine Forger Extraordinaire by Peter Hellman & Charles Constant

Technological innovation Tubes: A Journey to the Center of the Internet by Andrew Blum

A game-changer. The Sleepwalkers: How Europe Went to War in 1914 by Christopher Clark

Fanfic Reading Challenge recs (1)

I have a private checklist with the fanfic reading challenge data, but will not be sharing all of the fics; fanfiction is generally an amateur endeavor, and many people do not enjoy receiving (or stumbling across) criticism of their work. Bad reviews are normal and accepted as part of commercial publishing, and professional authors (hopefully!) get paid for their work, so I’m comfortable criticizing published novels. I would prefer not to publicly criticize someone’s writing when they are just writing for the joy of it, especially since some of the tasks require me to read first-time authors’ fics, fics with relatively low kudos counts, fics for ships I don’t like, etc. So I’m only putting the recs here.

Romancing the Tome by Anti_kate Good Omens; Aziraphale/Crowley; ~40k words; rated Explicit Romance novelist Aziraphale Wilder is pulled from his carefully ordered life when his sister is kidnapped and held to ransom. With the help of antiquities forger Anthony J Crowley, he braves the wilds of Scotland to rescue her and keep a priceless book from falling into the hands of dangerous book thieves. Did I like it? Yes! It was cheesy and cute and basically what I want out of this kind of romcom AU fic. I’m not normally into human AUs and this one wasn’t like, super deep or anything, but it was very fun. Was it good? I thought so! The dialogue was great, I enjoyed the characterization, the sex was good. I do think the Crowley in this fic is pretty self-loathing in a way that I don’t see canon Crowley being at all, but I have a weakness for that and I also think self-loathing works for a human version of Crowley. One thing it doesn’t shy away from is Crowley doing genuinely awful stuff (instead of being a misunderstood woobie) and yet the resolution is sweet and lovely anyway. Would I rec it? Yes! Go read this fic. It’s fast-paced but long enough to be worth settling in to read, it’s funny, and it’s sweet. 5 stars

In Holy Matrimony by Myracuulous Good Omens; Aziraphale/Crowley; ~6.7k words; rated General From the private journal of Alisha Jones, wedding planner, concerning the nuptials of Anthony J Crowley and Aziraphale and the planning process thereof, containing an account of chosen decor, guest list construction, and the holy war against the Antichrist that nearly ruined six months of professional organization and a very nice dinner. Did I like it? Yes! It was extremely cute, and I always really like outsider POV. I did appreciate the fact that poor Alisha definitely knew something was definitely weird, but kept telling herself not to question it because a gorgeous wedding with an unlimited budget and zero issues with scheduling, catering, guest limits, etc. is a great problem to have. Was it good? It was pretty good! The climax and wrap-up felt a bit rushed, mostly due to the limits of outsider POV, but I did enjoy Aziraphale unexpectedly embracing his inner groomzilla while also being unfailingly sweet about it. Would I rec it? Yup, especially if you want wedding comedy/fluff and outsider POV

Wrong Turn by anticyclone Good Omens; Aziraphale/Crowley; ~38k words; rated Teen And Up Lots and lots of somethings are wrong. First, Crowley's nearly hit by a car. Then he almost brains himself tripping over new and excessive piles of books at the bookshop. To add insult to near-injury, Aziraphale starts throwing knives at him. Safe to say his day could be going better.

The thing that's the most wrong of all is the universe, of course. In this one there was never an Arrangement. Aziraphale and Anthony (they can't both be 'Crowley') aren't friends and they certainly never agreed to prep for Armageddon. Unfortunately, the end of the world is two days away.

So that's something Crowley really has to fix before they can figure out how to get him home. Did I like it? Oh yes. I had read bits of this on ffa previously, and also anticyclone is a good writer (and a friend) so like, I was expecting it to be good; I was not disappointed. Was it good? Yes! I was particularly impressed at how much alternate backstory is set up in little hints here and there, and then explained more thoroughly in ways that take the AU Aziraphale and Crowley by surprise when they do finally get to talking. Would I rec it? Yes! Especially if you like a nice dose of enemies-to-lovers along with your friends-to-lovers, and also the awkwardness of meeting your alternate universe self.

Finished in January, not for reading challenges (3 books):

The Way of Kings, book 1 of The Stormlight Archive, by Brandon Sanderson Did I like it? It was fine. Was it good? I think so. I am maybe not the best audience for epic fantasy at this point, partly because I’ve read a lot of it and partly because I habitually read 3-7 books at once at any given time. Would I recommend it? Maybe, but I feel like most of the people who would enjoy it have probably heard of it already. 3 stars

Get a Wiggle On, a Good Omens fanzine Did I like it? Yup! Was it good? Mostly, although as usual with zines and anthologies, quality varies piece by piece. Of the fics I particularly liked “A Head Above Water,” “The Grapes of Mild Irritation,” and “Concerning the Great Serpent Glykon and the Angel Clothed With the Sun,” all of which are now available on AO3. Would I recommend it? If you like snakey Crowley, yes. 4 stars

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne Did I like it? Yes, very much! A very silly thing I particularly liked (which unfortunately you cannot really replicate) is that the edition I have is an illustrated hardcover book from 1926 which I picked up cheap at a used bookstore, knowing I would like it because Jules Verne. I didn’t think much about that specific date when I bought it, but I am now writing a fic set in 1926, with a character who has a habit of reading adventure novels and who I have specifically mentioned enjoyed Jules Verne in his childhood, so when I discovered the date the coincidence made me very happy. The book itself smells very nice, it’s nice to hold, and as I was reading it I kept thinking about what Danny would think of the book, and whether he would try reading it aloud to Crowley, and wondering if the book smelled as nice in 1926 as it does now. Maybe I will have Aziraphale give this book to him as a very small thank-you for all he has done to keep Crowley alive and well. Was it good? For the most part. Jules Verne is prone to wandering off on tangents where he shows you his research, but I’m sympathetic to that, and there’s some really cool and atmospheric scenes in this book. My favorite character was definitely Captain Nemo, who we don’t really learn much about. Could have done without Conseil, the bland servant character who could be a naturalist in his own right, if he had any opinions of his own, or the period racism/imperialism, which unfortunately is so built into this kind of adventure novel. But the environmentalism was a nice surprise, and you can definitely read some critiques of certain aspects of (Western?) culture at the time into Captain Nemo’s behavior; I have not yet read The Mysterious Island where Captain Nemo also appears, but I do get the impression a lot of people read him as being disgusted with imperialism. Would I recommend it? Probably! With the caveats above. It was a good adventure story with some awesome visuals, and I kept thinking about what a pretty movie it would make with modern SFX, and how sad I would be that they would inevitably not spend just 3 solid hours on cool fish and interiors of the Nautilus and scenes of the lost city of Atlantis and Captain Nemo being very mysterious and dreamy scary, because they’d probably shoehorn an awkward romance into it. 4 stars

Finished in February, not for reading challenges (2 books):

The Deception of the Emerald Ring by Lauren Willig, book 3 of the Pink Carnation series Did I like it? I did. It was a silly Regency romance novel with espionage elements, it is the third of a series I have enjoyed, and it contained an accidental/forced marriage to preserve a lady’s honor despite neither party to the marriage particularly liking or wanting to have anything to do with each other, and some misunderstandings about that. Also spies. Was it good? Not really. It was fun and I liked the characters, but I don’t think the writing was of particularly high quality. The handling of certain elements of English imperialism was not great, and bothered me enough to note it in my review on Goodreads. Would I recommend it? I’d recommend the series if it sounds like something you’d like; I might not recommend this specific book. 3 stars

The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley Did I like it? No. It was very dark, and I did not enjoy most of the book. A lot of it was because it was very gritty and grim, and because I frequently don’t enjoy military fiction; a lot of it was because many of the dystopian aspects of our present reality that came to a head in 2020 were magnified in the book. Part of it was also that the protagonist’s entire reality and memory was being denied for much of the book, and I think it reminded me of being gaslit. (This is not a criticism of the book, or some kind of weird accusation that the book or its author was somehow abusing me, I just have this personal history. In fact, it turns out the main character is being gaslit to some extent, and the author writes it very well.) It was a minor relief when she finally decided the stuff she was going through was real, and a huge relief when she was able to talk to someone who believed her. Was it good? Yes, I think so. Would I recommend it? Not right now, but I think this would be a good book to read at a time when the world feels more stable. I don’t say this because I want you to wait until everything’s fine to read it; I say this because it feels like a good anti-complacency read. 4 stars (3 for not being an enjoyable read, 5 for the actual plot; it averages out.)

In progress, not for reading challenges (1 book):

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by 墨香铜臭

#kaesa op

3 notes · View notes

papipopsicle · 5 years

Text

NOT WARRIORS PART TWO

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: In which the reader's parents are going through a rough patch, it takes it's toll on her, and they decide it's best for her to stay with family friends on the other side of America. Y/N and Billy aren't the same since they last saw each other, but somehow they are.

Song: Sunnyland by Mayday Parade

Warnings: swearing

Words: 2K

PART ONE

feedback is always appreciated

Three days.

That's how long it took for the plain walls of Billy's bedroom to drive Y/N positively insane. The garden was an overgrown jungle she didn't dare venture into, and being anywhere else in the house meant seeing and then speaking to Neil. For as long as her memories stretched, her best friend's father played the facade of a perfect gentleman in front of neighbours and friends, but she only saw the reptile that lay so close to the surface. The mere thought of him made her skin crawl like a thousand swarming fire ants.

Billy was either at school causing trouble, or out with his new friends causing trouble, only a few minutes each day spare for his best girl. It wasn't intentional, but the fact that Max even played Monopoly with her out of pity was making Y/N's eyes itch to see further than the boundaries of the small property.

"Y/N?" A gravelly voice sounded from the doorway questioningly. It was early and her clothes covered every single surface of the tiny bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed with a vanity mirror facing the window, a light blue fluffy towel hugged to her body while her damp y/h/c hair fell in ringlets down her covered back. She put down whatever makeup utensil her hand held and turned to see Billy with a look of horror etched into his features.

A small scoff exited her lips and Y/N went back to applying various products to her face, "This house is beginning to give me the skeevies, -"

"Try living here for six months." The boy joked, his expression softening as he closes the door and lay back on the bed, the sudden dip forcing Y/N to correct her lipstick moments later.

"I'm coming to school with you today." She finished adamantly and turns to grin at Billy with wild eyes.

He shakes his head immediately and groans into the grey pillow, "That's a terrible idea."

"A brilliant idea, I'm glad you agree." Y/N's hands clasp together and her grin only widened at his now pouting mouth, "You can properly introduce me to your new friends, plus I want to see how jealous your fan base get when they see how much you love me." She teases and leaves the bed to search through the outfits strategically laid out around the room.

Y/N hears a chuckle from behind her and she knows she's won, her lips settling into a smirk, "How do you expect to be let into the school, Bambi?"

The girl pauses her search to smile at the nickname Billy had chosen for her years ago. Her stomach does a little somersault as she attempts to cool the blush creeping up on her cheeks. It was easy to sweep aside the boy's classic handsomeness after knowing him since birth and always thinking of him as the kid that ate a mud-pie thinking it was an actual pie. But after being apart, after he learnt to channel his constant anger into working out instead of breaking walls, he wasn't that little kid anymore.

Like the flick of a switch Y/N comes back to reality, shaking those thoughts from her head to muster the most innocent smile possible, "I may or may not have phoned up yesterday, possibly explaining my current situation and I might've asked for a visitors pass. Maybe." Before he can let out one syllable though, she silences him with a dainty finger over his lips and her own melodic voice, "Don't try to change my mind, do you know how difficult it is to avoid Susan? I don't think she's believing that the only two things I do are either sleep or shower and nothing else. Please? I know you have appearances to keep up and people here are more misogynistic than in California, but I'm genuinely dying from boredom. A few strange looks and comments are better than sitting here waiting for you to come back only to watch you leave again."

"Fine." A smile pulled at the boy's lips, his annoyed tone dissipating as Y/N let out a gleeful squeal. Billy finally sat up and watched with curious eyes while his best friend attempted to create the perfect outfit, "You want to make an impression?" She perked up and hummed in response at his question, "Wear the green dress and Daniel's jacket."

“Thanks,” The girl grinned up at him, feeling his arms snake around her waist and tug her close. Her back fell into his chest, warm and inviting but nothing like the quick hug goodbye from him she’d become so accustomed to over the years. His grip was tighter, scared that Y/N would fly back to California and never be seen again if he let go too soon. She closed her eyes in content and began running her smooth hands up and down the exposed skin on his wrist. Billy found that moment too perfect though, this wasn’t how they behaved around each other, they never did this.

He quickly moved his hands to jab her sides and his best friend squeaked in surprise, giggling and trying to catch her breath before retaliating by squeezing his knee, “You fucker, you know I hate being tickled.”

He shrugged, not so subtly eyeing her down from her smoothed tanned legs up to her beautifully made up face, “Get dressed and I’ll stop then.”

She gathered the clothes he had chosen and locked the bathroom door behind her, not before flipping him off.

Y/N changed into the outfit the boy had chosen, confused by what impression she was trying to make. Although the dress was tight and rather short and made her show a heck of a lot more skin than all the jean clad girls of Hawkins, it was one of the most conservative dresses in her ownership. The emerald colour complemented her tanned skin, and the ribbed material hugged her torso elegantly, flaring out at the waist to create a whirlwind of swishes whenever she turned.

Her older brother's jacket hugged Y/N's shoulders tightly while she waited for Billy to fix himself up enough to be presentable for his royal subjects. The girl didn't have any textbooks or stationary with her, planning to be the devil in Billy's ear and simply watch chaos ensue for the day.

He appeared after a few minutes of waiting-forced to be quiet as Susan wanted to sleep in- with a tentative dimpled smile on his peachy lips and car keys in hand.

The four kids from three days ago appeared early this morning calling for Max, her rushed 'goodbye' filling the house with excitement before the door slammed shut behind her.

"So," Billy drummed his fingers against the steering wheel while some sort of rock roared in the background, "How's home been without me around?"

The scene felt so familiar, riding shotgun in the blue Camaro, music pounding into her skull while her best friend drove around aimlessly for hours on end. She knew exactly where her answer was headed, and Y/N's stomach dropped thinking back to the months without Billy around. The girl found a dependability within him, he protected her and this car became her safe haven late into the night when she couldn't sleep or think straight because her parents were too busy tearing each other's heads off.

She hoped and prayed that the muscly boy beside her still shared that security.

Y/N began clicking her knuckles and scoffed, realising he couldn't hear the abhorrence radiating from her sharply raised eyebrow, "Shit."

She didn't have a poetic way to explain why life with Billy was better, it just was. He kissed her cuts and bruises better even after falling off her motorbike at sixteen when it was stationary. She could play pranks on him and know he'd forgive her in an hour or so, even when they went too far. He gave her the space she asked for when life got tough and she wanted to get through it alone, and then held her when she broke down realising she couldn't. Life without him wasn't unliveable, but it wasn't right either.

"Kelly and Cameron have broken up and got back together so many times I've lost count, the people that brought your house are absolute arseholes, but they have a cute dog called Obi so I can't complain. Jessie cheated on Steve with Jack, because you know, it's Jessie, Steve punched Jack and now they're together and Steve's pining over Amy. Dean broke his leg trying to jump from the roof of Rosie's pool-house onto the trampoline then into the pool, but he landed really badly. And I just watched from the sidelines pretending to care about their drama." Y/N chuckled to herself at the amount of times Kelly had come crying to her wanting relationship advice.

"Delilah?" Billy assumed by his best friend turning up in Indiana, something must have happened between the two. He didn't want to pry, he teased Y/N endlessly about how happy she seemed with her short, gorgeously tanned girlfriend, but that all switched if she wasn't truly happy.

The air tasted bitter on her tongue at his words, "She didn't want me to leave, said long distance doesn't work when you're already hiding your relationship from nearly the entire world. She dumped me, and I nearly stayed for her. But at my going away surprise party, I walked in on her and Jessie making out in my brother's room. I mean, she didn't cheat as far as I know, but it made it a whole lot easier for me to leave."

"Guess everyone wants a bit of Jessie... slut deserves chlamydia." Billy hummed and the two chuckled at his latter statement. He managed to brighten the sour mood right in time for the camaro to pull into the small high school car park.

The sky had lightened ever so slightly, a break in the endless clouds allowing the smallest rays of sunlight to shine down on the teens from the heavens. Y/N could practically feel the stares of Billy's classmates boring through her skull and smashing her brains with a metaphorical hammer as she stepped out of the car. To them, she was the Californian dream girl. Pretty curly hair that never seemed to frizz and skin so soft once someone touched it, they craved the inexplicable sensation.

Y/N walked on without the boy, feeling his heavy arm drape over her smaller shoulders in a matter of moments. It was a warning to the lingering gazes, she was off limits. Any conversations were soon extinguished in the halls as the two entered, eyes carefully inspecting and scrutinising the stranger on their King's arm.

"I bet she's pregnant and he's the father." One girl whispered to her group of friends.

Then from another group of girls down the hallway, "I wonder if she knows Billy's fucked half of the girls in his year-"

One of the friends snorted, "Whore's probably screwed anyone who offered back home, don't feel sorry for her."

Billy must have heard all the snide comments being thrown about because Y/N felt his grip tighten around her. She paused her steps to the guidance office and the boy mirrored, searching her face in worry to find the same look as the time that she kicked Owen Howarth right where it hurt in the middle of the cafeteria, and called him out for saying she blew him in the locker room when in reality she caught him perving on the girls showers. He couldn't walk properly for two weeks.

The girl, only a couple inches off Billy's own height, took a small step to close the distance between them and whispered, "Follow my lead."

Y/N stepped back quickly but was soon pulled back into his arms, and she felt his breath hot on her ear, "They aren't worth it, Bambi, trust me?"

Billy saw her look around at the stunned students with a wicked gaze, and just when he thought he knew every last detail about her, she shocked him. Y/N's eyes found their way back to his, thoughts stilling as the effervescent kindness behind his touch lingered on her waist. They flickered down to his lips before quickly shutting, and her hands reached up on their own accord to the back of his neck pulling him down to meet her.

She kissed him and the whole world fell away. It was slow and soft, his hand rest below her ear, thumb caressing her cheek as their breath mingled. In an instant they both pulled away, eyes blown wide with invisible smiles grinning from their hearts.

"I'll come find you after class." She hummed blissfully, turning on her heel leaving Billy alone to try and find the guidance office. Y/N kept her head high and hands in the safety of Daniel's jacket pockets, not daring to look at the faces of the boy's classmates or back at him.

Her mind screamed to turn back around, drag Billy out of the school and apologise. That's not how she pictured their first kiss, up until moving to this god forsaken town the thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

What the hell did I just do?

part three?

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llllamaq-blog · 7 years

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A couple entries from my music journal

I decided to post these because I put a little bit more thought into them that previous entries, and I think they might be interesting on some level.

2017年3月27日 Entry #13 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WrO9PTpuSSs https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGfguhnvECc

Seba Jun, more commonly known as Nujabes, is one of my favorite hip hop producers, and I credit him and his circle for being my gateway into the genre. Looking at his discography, I think it's interesting how few of his collaborators are Japanese. I was listening to a podcast recently that said hip hop is just starting to grow in Japan. I initially thought that this wasn't true, because Nujabes was active from '96 to 2010, but the collaborators are making me think it might be true. I'm not quite sure why I'm so fond of Nujabes. His beats are kind of repetitive. Maybe he knows how to pick the right vocalists for each track. A lot of his tracks have a combination of sampled, soft jazz piano mixed with weighty drums. This creates an uncommon soundscape, and this contrast seems to be a contrast throughout his works. Love[sic] is one of the most bittersweet things I've heard. One of the things Nujabes is most known for is contributing to the soundtrack of Samurai Champloo, which is built around the idea of unlikely combinations. The show is, at face value, about a classically trained warrior from the capital and a self-taught madman from the southern islands traveling across a hip hop infused Edo era Japan. Even the name, Champloo, comes from an Okinawan word meaning to mix. Anyway, I'm getting off track. I may enjoy his work because it's a sound that I don't often hear. In talking with my dad one night about Japanese hip hop and jazz, he voiced some concern about authenticity, though he didn't use that exact word. His experience with J-jazz is that they often play with too much precision and not enough swing. That a lot of them don't "get" it. He thought that the same might apply to rap and hip hop. They're distinctly American genres, and to translate that over the pacific is a challenge. I think that there is a distinction between American and Japanese music in this sense. At least in the case of Nujabes, the genre changes from being about the stereotypical "Money, bitches, guns, drugs," or about racially charged issues into being about interpersonal connections and the emotions that one feels. Maybe I'm generalizing a bit, or maybe I just lack knowledge in the area. I've heard that Life of Pablo is a very personal album, but I also haven't listened to it because I'm rather indifferent to Kanye's previous works. One final note on Nujabes, I want to explicitly mention Love[sic] again both because it's one of the most emotional works I've heard and because it's interesting to see how the meaning of it changed over time. It started as a colab with Shing02 in 2000 and continued being released piecemeal until his death in 2010. Parts 1-3 were released per-humorously, parts 4-5 were already finished and released soon after his death, and part 6 was based off of an unfinished beat on his phone and released 3 years after his death. Because it was created over 13 years, the songs evolved from being about loss of romantic love to loss of friendship.

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2017年3月31日 Entry #14 上を向いて歩こ (Ue Wo Muite Arukou, also known as Sukiyaki) - Kyu Sakamoto https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUA-DcW1lFc https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C35DrtPlUbc I've attached one version of this song with higher quality audio and one with lyrics on screen.

Some notes about the history and translation of this song, because I think both make it better. As the video says, the name of the song was changed when it released in America. It was recorded in 1961 and released in the Americas in '63. Although the writer purposefully made the song vague, it was originally conceived after a failed student protest against US military presence. For reference, the Constitution of Japan was adopted in 1947, but US presence continues today. Roughly 50,000 military personnel, 40,000 dependents, and 55,000 civilians employed by the USDD were in Japan in 2013. Okinawa was return to Japan in 1973 (which, as an aside, caused many traffic accidents as they switched from driving on the right to the left), 3 years after the Koza Riot and 12 years after this song was released. The translation given in the video is fairly accurate, but I would probably translate "Hitoribochi no yoru" as "on this night of loneliness." The eponymous line could be translated as "Looking up while walking." No variation of the would "I" is actually sung. I don't actually have a whole lot to say about this song other than that I like it. I don't think the specific instrumentation is too important, though the presence of some kind of instrument is. The little intro seems cheesy, but maybe it was perceived differently at the time. The main crux of the song is the lyrics and Sakamoto's voice. I think it's interesting how melisma is used in this song, especially in regard to the elongated vowels present. Japan has an aspect of timing in the language. The syllable "ko" (こ, one "on" using Japanese measurements) is pronounced the exact same way as "kou" (こう, 2 "on") but takes half as long to say. When spoken, this is the only difference between 子, child, and 稿, manuscript. Obviously they're written differently. This makes the choice to elongate sounds and apply melisma to more than just two “on” words a little strange and possibly confusing in a way, although many singers do it.

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voodoochili · 6 years

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My Favorite Albums of 2017

Thanks to the magic of Spotify Premium, I was able to listen to over 150 new albums this year. Most of them were pretty good! It took weeks, but I was finally able to piece together a list of the year’s best that I’m happy with! Here is the list of my favorites, spanning several genres and countries of origin. Hopefully, you enjoy the read and maybe find something you’ll love!

And, oh, while you’re here, check out In Itinere, the new EP by my band The Chordaes: https://open.spotify.com/album/79kKlk7OYfu1G62AjD3nlk

Check below for the Top 20, plus a ranked list from 21-50, and honorable mentions. I’ve included Spotify links for each of the top 20. Happy New Year and Happy Listening!

The Top 20:

20. Future – HNDRXX: Departing from his usual dark-night-of-the-soul-trap aesthetic, HNDRXX shows another side of Future—the unapologetic pop star. Packed with potential hits, (none of which, obviously, connected at actual radio), HNDRXX paints a glorious picture of a future (no pun intended) where pop, R&B, and rap meld into an invigorating hybrid. The stretch from “Damage” to “Fresh Air” represents some of the most accessible, emotional, and best work of Future’s prolific career.

19. Björk – Utopia: People often lament that the influence of the smartphone has driven people to isolate themselves from the physical world. Not Björk. On Utopia, which she describes as her “Tinder album,” technology has the power of bringing people closer together—“I literally think I am five minutes away from love,” she warbles on “Features Creatures.” Moving beyond the harsh, metallic soundscapes of Vulnicura, written and recorded at the end of a decades-long relationship, Utopia is a blissful and pastoral record, populated by flutes and bird sounds and overflowing with joy.

18. Smino – Blkswn: Powered by future funk production courtesy of Monte Booker, Smino’s first proper album makes good on years of promising SoundCloud singles. The perfect antidote of the flat-voiced rap-n-b perpetrated by Drake and PartyNextDoor, Smino’s voice has an underlying bluesiness and soul that grounds Booker’s soundscapes and paints a picture of the rapper’s life as a St. Louis transplant in Chicago. Highlights from Blkswn include the sweetly sung, romantic “Netflix & Dusse,” the unconventionally lustful “Anita,” and the gorgeous “Glass Flows,” a duet with frequent collaborator Ravyn Lenae.

17. Playboi Carti – Playboi Carti: Dancing on the perimeter of his own cavernous cloud-trap, Playboi Carti is hip-hop’s pre-eminent wave-rider Blessed by the wizardry of producer Pi’erre Bourne, a master of counter-melodies whose beats are as danceable as they are sonically absorbing, Playboi Carti might be mindless ear candy, but rarely has that candy been this sweet.

16. Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever – The French Press: A Melbourne-based five-piece with three distinct singers and lead guitarists, Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever overwhelm with a veritable avalanche of jangly guitars. With overlapping lyrics and guitar lines that evoke a conversation with constant interruptions, The French Press is a decidedly Aussie take on guitar pop—an album-length exploration of the guitar tornado from The Velvet Underground’s “What Goes On.”

15. Tyler, The Creator – Flower Boy: Ditching the shock tactics and abrasive sonics of his earlier projects, Tyler, The Creator creates a vibrant, pastoral, even peaceful, jazz-influenced soundscape on Flower Boy. As you can possibly tell by the tongue-in-cheek title, Flower Boy is Tyler’s “sensitive” record, and the one that feels more in-touch with Tyler Okonma, not the monster he Created. Whether exploring his loneliness on “911,” existential ennui on “Boredom,” or casually revealing his fluid sexuality on the album’s hardest rap track “I Ain’t Got Time,” Tyler manages to subvert rap tropes even on his most mainstream release.

14. Ulver – The Assassination of Julius Caesar: Straight outta Norway, where the sun shines for approximately 5 minutes in the winter, erstwhile Black Metal band Ulver’s latest is a goth-industrial epic, foregoing noise for Depeche Mode-esque orchestral pop. The songwriting is as ambitious and accomplished as the music, imbuing important events in modern history (the Battle of Dunkirk, the death of Princess Diana) with the grandeur and majesty of Greek (or Norse) myth. It’s easy to get lost in the band’s world as it lights up the sunless sky with cascading falsetto harmonies, sweeping strings, and massive drums.

13. Bedouine – Bedouine: Born in Aleppo, Syria, raised in Saudi Arabia and three of the United States before eventually settling in California, Azniv Korkejian is as nomadic as the tribe that inspired her name. Her gentle, gorgeous debut album as Bedouine reflects the sunshine of her adopted home, but retains a lived-in melancholy that reflects her turbulent past. Evoking the big names in singer-songwriter-ing in equal measure (Bob, Joni, Carole, and especially Leonard on the single “Solitary Daughter”), her best track is her most atypical: the mournful, haunting sound collage “Summer Cold,” about the transformation of Aleppo from a vibrant city to a horrific war zone.

12. Algiers – The Underside of Power: Cataloging hundreds of years of oppression in one densely-packed fusion of DC hardcore, post-punk, and southern soul, The Underside of Power is a tough, but invigorating listen, explaining our nation’s bitterest conflicts with a beat you can dance, or at least mosh, to.

11. Oxbow – Thin Black Duke: A heavy, and loosely conceptual album, Thin Black Duke is a theatrical blend of noise rock, avant-jazz, and blues, dominated by frontman Eugene Robinson’s inimitable baritone, which gurgles, bellows, and stretches out syllables like taffy.

10. Mozzy – 1 Up Top Ahk: The game’s most reliable purveyor of starkly honest and soulful slaps, Sacramento rapper Mozzy had a prolific 2017, releasing five projects in the year’s first eight months. Though they were all worth a listen, the strongest and most substantial of these releases was 1 Up Top Ahk, his “official” album. Somehow only 30-years-old, Mozzy has the presence of a grizzled vet, relaying empathetic and violent street tales, flashing internal rhyme, and stacking syllables with the most pronounced NorCal accent in modern hip-hop. Despite the glistening mob instrumentals from frequent collaborator Juneonnabeat (don’t shoot him in the street) and other Bay Area mainstays, Mozzy’s life is not glamorous—the violence he depicts is not stylish, just an ugly fact of life about providing for his family. Featuring appearances from kindred spirits like Boosie, Jay Rock, and (in one of the project’s highlights) the late The Jacka, 1 Up Top Ahk proves Mozzy’s worth as a successor to the struggle rap throne.

9. Moses Sumney – Aromanticism: Dripping with emotion and otherworldly sexuality, Moses Sumney’s voice might be the purest and most versatile instrument in modern music. On Aromanticism, Sumney stacks, loops, and manipulates his voice to create an unclassifiable hybrid of art rock, neo-soul, and cosmic jazz. The songs on the album generally follow a similar structure, with Sumney’s angelic falsetto rising above plaintive piano chords or a snaking guitar line or rippling harp, gradually opening up into an orchestral tapestry at the song’s climax. But the lush beauty of the arrangements, coupled with Sumney’s emotional songwriting and unique voice, ensures that the album never grows stale. There’s no need to tinker with a formula that works as well as Sumney’s—after all, Monet never got tired of painting water lilies, did he?

8. Migos – Culture: It’s hard to believe when you think about it now, but in Summer 2016, Migos was an afterthought--an act that despite its youth seemed to be past their peak of popularity, latching onto the “Dab” craze as if their career depended on it. That changed in October 2016, when the trio dropped “Bad & Boujee,” a titanic banger that built enough momentum to reach #1 on the Billboard charts. How could Migos possibly live up to the massive expectations they built with “Bad and Boujee”? Well, an easy way is to make an album where “Bad & Boujee” is only the 4th or 5th best track. Culture was the most consistently replayable and enjoyable rap album of 2017, overflowing with infectious ad-libs and an impressive arsenal of distinct flows (not just the triplets!). The highlight of the album, and possibly of human civilization, is “T-Shirt,” a lurching drug dealers’ anthem that showcases the individual talents of the three-headed monster: Quavo’s smooth melodicism, Takeoff’s blunt-force bars, and Offset’s chameleonic and charismatic combination of the best qualities of the other two.

7. Alex Lahey – I Love You Like a Brother: Combining the dry witticism (and Aussie-ness) of Courtney Barnett with the bubblegum overdrive guitar riffs and emotional sincerity of Weezer, Alex Lahey’s I Love You Like a Brother was my biggest surprise of 2017. Shamelessly layering her tracks with unstoppable melodies, “whoa-ohs,” and “wee-ooohs,” Lahey has the acuity to make those massive moments feel earned. Even if you don’t normally go for pop-punk (which I don’t), Lahey’s debut is insanely fun, with sing-along anthems like the surprisingly literal title track, the grungy “Lotto In Reverse,” the plaintive vocal standout “There’s No Money,” and the standout, generation-defining “I Haven’t Been Taking Care of Myself,” highlighting the hookiest rock record I heard all year.

6. King Krule – The OOZ: On The OOZ, Archy Marshall piles trip-hop, lounge jazz, rock-n-roll, and beat poetry into a blender and arrives at the most evocative imagination of the grimy underworld of the soul since peak-era Tom Waits. Though they have similar low, scratchy, bellowing voices, King Krule doesn’t sound like Waits (except on “Vidual” which is a dead-wringer for the first side of Rain Dogs), but The OOZ is an engrossing, hour-long trip through the 23-year-old’s mind. The album wallows in an unconventional sort of beauty, with Marshall airing his anxieties with his ungodly growl over clean, snaking guitar lines, creating an unforgettable ambience that sounds like the late-night act at the last jazz club standing after a nuclear apocalypse. Explained Marshall, “The Ooz for me represents … your sweat, your nails, the sleep that comes out of your eyes, your dead skin. All of those creations that you have to refine.” It’s a perfect title and a great metaphor—The OOZ synthesizes Marshall’s ugly thoughts and disparate influences and refines them into a style that is all his own, topped off with his striking, evocative, and poetic lyrics: “She sits as dust, with an earthly pus in a capsule on my tongue/And I think of what we've done and sink into where she sunk.”

5. Susanne Sundfor – Music For People in Trouble: When I first heard Music For People in Trouble, I was slightly disappointed. Ten Love Songs, the last album by Norwegian pop artist Susanne Sundfør, was a gothic masterpiece—a maximalist pop epic that resembled the lovechild of ABBA, Siouxsie Sioux, and Johann Sebastian Bach. Music For People in Trouble, on the other hand, is a relatively simple record, eschewing the grandiose arrangements of Ten Love Songs in favor of sparse recordings that feature only one or two accompanying instruments. As I spent more time with the album, however, I began to focus more on the songs on their own terms, and marvel at the power of Sundfør’s quivering soprano. Few living songwriters can write a melody like the classically-trained Sundfør; they lilt one moment, soar the next, and always reach unexpected, yet natural resolutions. If Ten Love Songs was an ode to the turbulent heart, Music For People in Trouble offers serenity for the aggrieved with gorgeous folk songs like “Mantra” or “Reincarnation,” pop power ballads like “Undercover,” and the pastoral dirge “No One Believes in Love Anymore.”

4. Sacred Paws – Strike a Match: An erudite indie pop group that uses African polyrhythms and snaking guitars to explore the intricacies of modern life—where have I heard that before? While Vampire Weekend is a great band, they often seemed like dilettantes when dipping their toes into African waters; not so for Sacred Paws, the muscular brainchild of guitar/drums duo Rachel Aggs and Elidh Rodgers. On Strike A Match, the duo adds a horn section to the revue, imbuing bouncy, skeletal pop songs like “Nothing” and “Everyday” with an added grandeur, in the process creating the most invigorating and danceable rock album of the year.

3. Slowdive – Slowdive: The most melodic and majestic of the English bands that comprised the Shoegaze movement’s late ‘80s/early ‘90s heyday, Slowdive reunited after a 21-year absence to deliver their second magnum opus. Filled with buzzing guitar riffs and heavenly harmonies, Slowdive is enveloping and engrossing, a triumph of atmospheric dream pop. Foregoing the ornate space operatics of 1996’s Pygmalion, the group’s self-titled 2017 album is a proper follow-up to 1993’s classic Souvlaki, one of my all-time favorite albums. Couching gorgeous, soaring melodies within circular bursts of noise and distortion, the band augmented their signature strain of shoegaze with tighter songwriting and a broader palette of musical ideas, whether embracing Glass-like minimalism on “Falling Ashes,” incorporating massive ‘80s drums on “No Longer Making Time,” or schooling imitators with dream-pop classics like “Sugar For The Pill” or “Don’t Know Why.” A master class in emotional dynamics, Slowdive establishes the band as not just genre stalwarts, but as uniquely gifted in the realm of sonic world-building.

2. Big Thief – Capacity: Last year, Big Thief drew national attention with the album Masterpiece, a cathartic and intelligent set of songs. Turns out, they might have used that title a year too early. Delicate and devastating, Capacity is a leap forward for the young band—a mature and varied collection of stories and moods, and an intimate exploration of human emotion. Led by Adrienne Lenker, with her literary gift for finding the extraordinary in mundane moments, the album derives its strength from its simple, yet note-perfect arrangements that augment and provide emphasis for the lyrics. Make no mistake, Capacity is a heavy album—the gorgeous “Mythological Beauty” embodies the point of view of a mother during a child’s graphic near-death experience, and the astonishing “Haley” finds Lenker in the bargaining stage of grief—but it’s buoyed by the inventive arrangements, the power of the band, and the winsome fragility of Lenker’s voice. But beyond all that, Capacity feels necessary, like if Lenker didn’t write these songs, the emotional weight would have been too much to bear. As a listener, I’m eternally grateful she decided to grace us with her music.

1. Kendrick Lamar – DAMN.: Ladies and gentlemen, the artist of the decade. I listened to well over 200 new albums in 2017, but this is the one to which I kept coming back, the one that never left my rotation. Only Kendrick could make three (four if you count untitled unmastered) straight albums of rap tracks deep and innovative enough to satisfy critics, while also landing at #1 on the Billboard 200 year-end chart. It’s so haaaard to be humble…

2015′s To Pimp a Butterfly was an insanely ambitious future jazz odyssey, with Kendrick Lamar looking outward, trying to find a universal theory of race relations in the United States, but never quite coming up with a satisfactory answer. On DAMN., Kendrick looks inward, reckoning with his own rising star and asking a simple question: is it possible to live the life of a rap star and still be accepted into the Kingdom of Heaven? With songs with titles that tackle the multitude of feelings, values, and desires we all contain, DAMN. paints a vivid portrait of the artist as a 30-year-old man, expertly rendering Kendrick’s inner conflict into his most “traditional” rap album to date. There are plenty of themes and lines that repeat throughout the project (Kendrick, like everybody else, really hates FOX News), but there is no overarching storyline or unifying concept. Instead, Kendrick gives us the clearest glimpse yet into his personality and what drives him—his love for his high school sweetheart-turned-fiancé on the gorgeous “LOVE,” his fear of death on “FEAR,” (man, these titles really spell out the themes, don’t they?), and the difficulty of remaining level-headed despite being so goddamned dope that it should be illegal on the smash hit “HUMBLE.” And it all ends at the beginning with “DUCKWORTH,” a superhero origin story (or more accurately, a prequel) that explains how small decisions can have life-altering consequences.

Best of the Rest:

21. Nick Hakim – Green Twins 22. The Clientele – Music for the Age of Miracles 23. Cornelius – Mellow Waves 24. Anna Wise – The Feminine: Act II 25. Young Thug – Beautiful Thugger Girls 26. Broken Social Scene – Hug of Thunder 27. SZA – Ctrl 28. Kelly Lee Owens – Kelly Lee Owens 29. Nadine Shah – Holiday Destination 30. Guerilla Toss – GT Ultra 31. Jens Lekman – Life Will See You Now 32. Deem Spencer – We Think We’re Alone 33. Jay-Z – 4:44 34. The Mountain Goats - Goths 35. Forest Swords – Compassion 36. Ty Dolla $ign – Beach House 3 37. Run The Jewels – Run The Jewels 3 38. Ibeyi – Ash 39. Daniel Caesar – Freudian 40. Charly Bliss – Guppy 41. Sinkane – Life & Livin’ It 42. Kamasi Washington – The Harmony of Difference 43. Bicep – Bicep 44. Rexx Life Raj – Father Figure 2: Flourish 45. Vince Staples – Big Fish Theory 46. YoungBoy Never Broke Again – AI Youngboy 47. Jason Isbell – The Nashville Sound 48. Do Make Say Think – Stubborn Persisent Illusions 49. Pile – A Hairshirt of Purpose 50. Fred Thomas – Changer

Honorable Mentions: Jay Som – Everybody Works Kelela – Take Me Apart Blanck Mass - World Eater Drab Majesty – The Demonstration Caddywhompus – Odd Hours Talaboman – The Night Land Kelela – Take Me Apart Lowly – Heba Jidenna – The Chief Landlady – The World is a Loud Place J Hus – Common Sense Miguel – War & Leisure

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hardtostudy · 7 years

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lit.

1. What is theory? - Theory is interdisciplinary discourse (debate) with effects outside an original discipline. - Theory is analytical and speculative - Theory is a critique of common sense, of concepts taken as natural. 2. What is Literature? - Elusive term (always changing) - modern sense of literature is 200 years old - prior to 1800 literature was ‘'memorized'' not INTERPRETED - in fiction, the relation of what speakers say to what authors think is always a matter of interpretation - lit-er-a-ture n. Abbr. lit. 1. A body of writings in prose or verse 2. Imaginative or creative writing, especially of recognized artistic value. 3. The art or occupation of a literary writer. 4. The body of written work produced by scholars or researchers in a given field. 5. Printed material. 3. ‘Literariness' of nonliterary phenomena. - Qualities often thought to be literary turn out to be crucial to non-literary discourses and practices as well — For instance HISTORY or historical NARRATIVE — Everyday language (we use FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE) — Advertisements, newspapers, magazines, leaflets 4. Literature = Imaginative writing - The term literature seems best if we limit it to the art of literature, that is, to imaginative literature. (from Wellek and Warren, 1973, pp.20-23) 5. Imaginative vs. non-imaginative - non-imaginative writing employs logical abstractions - imaginative writing employs artistic images 6. Criteria for literature - content, considering aesthetic principles and semantic characteristics of language.

7. Literature as the ‘foregrounding' of language Literature is a speech act or textual event that elicits certain kinds of attention 8. Functions of literature - Mimetic, Aesthetic, Didactic, Entertaining, Social, Ideological, etc. 9. So what is literature then? - Imaginative or creative writing, especially of recognized artistic value foregrounding aesthetic principles and semantic characteristics of language - In order to call a text literary, it should fulfill certain function: Mimetic, Aesthetic, Didactic, Entertaining, Social, Ideological, etc. 10. Genre - The term genre usually refers to one of the three classical literary forms of: — fiction / prose / prose fiction (old-fashioned term epic) — drama — poetry 11. Text type - Beside the genres which describe general areas of traditional literature, the term text type has been introduced, under the influence of linguistics. - The term text type refers to highly conventional written documents such as instruction manuals, sermons, obituaries, advertising texts, catalogues, and scientific or scholarly writing 12. Discourse — usually a learned discussion, spoken or written, on a philosophical, political, literary or religious topic. It is closely related to a treatise and a dissertation. — is the broadest term, referring to a variety of written and oral manifestations which share common thematic or structural features. The boundaries of these terms are not fixed and vary depending on the context in which they appear. 13. Literary scholarship — Literary history follows the historical development of literature from the earliest times to the present (DEVELOPMENT). — Literary criticism analyses the content and form of creative literature, making use of the knowledge of literary theory and literary history. It addresses both, readers and writers. It employs aesthetic and formal criteria in the evaluation of literary works (INTERPRETATION) — Literary theory studies the forms, categories, criteria, techniques, literary types, genres, language, composition, style and other relevant aspects of creative writing (METHODS) 14. 4 major approach to text — text — author — reader — context 15. TEXT — Philology — Rhetoric — Formalism and Structuralism — New Criticism — Semiotics and Deconstruction 16. AUTHOR — Biographical Criticism — Psychoanalytic Criticism — Phenomenology 17. CONTEXT — Literary History — Marxist Literary Theory — Feminist Literary Theory — New Historicism and Cultural Studies 18. READER — Reception Theory — Reception History — Reader-Response Criticism 19. Literary canon - term originally used for holy→texts. It now refers to the entirety of those literary texts which are considered to be the most important in literary history. 20. Intertextuality - A term coined by Julia Kristeva in 1966 to denote the interdependence of literary texts, the interdependence of any one literary text with all those that have gone before it. - literary text is not an isolated phenomenon but is made up of a mosaic of quotations, and that any text is the 'absorption and transformation of another'. (Cuddon, 424). 21. Connotation vs denotation — Connotation: the suggesting of a meaning by a word apart from the thing it explicitly names or describes (implied/associated meaning) — Denotation: a direct specific meaning as distinct from an implied or associated idea 22. Specifications of poetry - The oldest genre in literary history - Origins in music (‘'lyre'' / ''harp’') - ,,poieo’' (greek) - to make, to produce) - Traditional attempts to define poetry juxtapose poetry with prose (limited) - Verse, rhyme, meter - Modern poetry/experimental poetry/free verse/prose poems 23. Major categories — Narrative poetry — Lyric poetry 24. Poetic language? - Lexical-thematic dimension: DICTION, RHETORICAL FIGUES, THEME - Visual dimension: STANZAS, FORM - Rhythmic-acoustic dimension: RHYME, METER, ONOMATOPOEIA 25. Traditional classification - Lyric poetry - plotlessness, subjectivity, reflexive, meditative — Ode (a song) — Ballad (a tragedy narrated in from of a song) — Elegy (a funeral song)

— Epitaph (life of a dead person, inscription on grave) — Pastoral poem (bucolics) — Psalm — Romance (similar to ballad, love story) - Epic poetry - composition of a story in verse — Epic (long narrative poem) — Chronicle (historical event in verse) — Historical song — Ballad (both lyric and epic) 26. Meter - Meter is the rhythm established by a poem, and it is usually dependent not only on the number of syllables in a line but also on the way those syllables are accented.

- This rhythm is often described as a pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables.

- The rhythmic unit is often described as a foot; patterns of feet can be identified and labeled.

- A foot may be iambic, which follows a pattern of unstressed/stressed syllables.

- For example, "The DOG went WALKing DOWN the ROAD and BARKED."

- Because there are five iambs, or feet, this line follows the conventions of iambic pentameter (pent = five), the common form in Shakespeare's time. Stressed syllables are conventionally labeled with a „/" mark and unstressed syllables with a "U" mark. 27. Basic feet UX – iamb (iambic)

XU – trochee (trochaic)

XX – spondee (spondaic)

UU – pyrrhic

UUX- anapaest (anapaestic)

XUU – dactyl, dactylic 28. Line-lengths One foot per line: monometer

Two feet per line: dimeter

Three feet per line: trimeter

Four feet per line: tetrameter

five feet per line: pentameter

Six feet per line: hexameter

Seven feet per line: heptameter

Eight feet per line: octameter 29. Rhyme - The basic definition of rhyme is two words that sound alike.

- the most recognizable convention of poetry,

- Rhyme helps to unify a poem; it also repeats a sound that links one concept to another, thus helping to determine the structure of a poem.

- When two subsequent lines rhyme, it is likely that they are thematically linked, or that the next set of rhymed lines signifies a slight departure.

- Especially in modern poetry, for which conventions aren't as rigidly determined as they were during the English Renaissance or in the eighteenth century, rhyme can indicate a poetic theme or the willingness to structure a subject that seems otherwise chaotic.

- Rhyme works closely with meter in this regard. 30. Varieties of rhyme - internal rhyme functions within a line of poetry, for example alliteration, assonance

- end rhyme occurs at the end of the line and at the end of some other line, usually within the same stanza if not in subsequent lines

- Eye rhyme 31. Rhyme - There are also a number of predetermined rhyme schemes associated with different forms of poetry. Once you have identified a rhyme scheme, examine it closely to determine

(1) how rigid it is,

(2) how closely it conforms to a predetermined rhyme scheme)

(3) what function it serves 32. Figurative language SIMILE = rhetorical figure which „compares“ two different things by connecting them with „like“, „than“, „as“ (e.g. cold as ice, my love is like a red, red rose)

METAPHOR = rhetorical figure which „equates“ one thing with another without actually „comparing“ the two (e.g. my love is a red, red rose)

PERSONIFICATION = a type of metaphor, comparing something to a human being (e.g. the wind sighed gloomily)

ALLITERATION = words starting with the same sound (burning bright)

ASSONANCE = repeated vowel sound (e.g. dark arms)

ONOMATOPOEIA = words that sound like what they mean (e.g. bubble, bang) 33. Synecdoche, metonymy, oxymoron - Synecdoche (substitution): is the rhetorical or metaphorical substitution of a part for the whole, or vice versa (when you refer to workers as "hands," you allow a part (the hand) to stand in for the whole (the person)

- Metonymy: (association) the rhetorical or metaphorical substitution of a one thing for another based on their association or proximity („Crown“, Oval office, )

- Oxymoron: The juxtaposition of two contradictory ideas is oxymoron in order to create striking effects (such as Milton's "darkness visible"). 34. Personification, simili, metaphor - Personification: when something other than a human being (often an abstract quality) is treated as a human being — as when we speak of blind Justice — it is said to be personified.

- Simili: An explicit comparison of two things, usually with the word "as" or "like

- Metaphor: A metaphor is an implied comparison of two things 35. Blank verse vs. Free verse - Blank verse is the technical name for unrhymed iambic pentameter — i.e., verse of five feet per line, with the stress on the second beat of each foot. It's one of the most common kinds of verse in English: many passages of Shakespeare's plays are in blank verse, as is Milton's Paradise Lost and Wordsworth's Prelude.

- Free verse — most common in the twentieth century, but by no means unique to it — has no fixed metrical foot, and often no fixed number of feet per verse. Free verse is sometimes called by its French name, verse libre. 36. Caesure - Caesura is a pause somewhere in the middle of a verse. Some lines have strong (easily recognizable) caesurae, which usually coincide with punctuation in the line, while others have weak ones. It's conventional to mark them with a double bar;

Alas how changed! || What sudden horrors rise! 37. Verse forms and Stanza forms - Couplet: two rhyming lines of verse following immediately after each other

- Heroic couplet: Rhyming couplets in iambic pentameter

- Tercet (triplet) – is a stanza with three lines of the same rhyme ( -baker-forsake her-Quaker)

- Terza rima – a variant of the tercet used by Dante. It uses a chain rhyme: the second line of each stanza rhymes with the first and the third line of the next stanza (aba, bcb cdc etc. ) Quatrain – stanza comprising of four lines of verse with various rhyme patterns. When written in iambic pentameter and rhyming abab it is called heroic quatrain

Rhyme royal – 7 line stanza in iambic pentameter ababbcc

Ottava rima – stanza with 8 lines abababcc 38. Enjambment Enjambment: When the units of sense in a passage of poetry don't coincide with the verses, and the sense runs on from one verse to another, the lines are said to be enjambed

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; 39. Sonnet - Sonnet: A lyric poem of fourteen lines. There are two common species of sonnet, distinguished by their rhyme scheme: the Italian and the Shakespearean.

- The Italian (or Petrarchan) sonnet can be broken into two parts, the octave (eight lines) and the sestet (six lines)

- he Shakespearean (or English) sonnet is instead three quatrains and a couplet: 40. Irony - verbal irony (sometimes called rhetorical irony), probably the most straightforward kind of irony, the speaker says something different from what he or she really believes

- In its crudest form it's called sarcasm, where the speaker intentionally says the opposite of what he or she believes,

- Understatement (figure of speech employed by writers or speakers to intentionally make a situation seem less important than it really is

- Hyperbole (exaggeration)(it cost a fortune)

- Euphemism is used to express a mild, indirect, or vague term to substitute for a harsh, blunt, or offensive term (pass away, fade away) 41. Satire vs. Parody — Satire: is the ridicule of some vice or imperfection — an attack on someone or something by making it look ridiculous or worthy of scorn.

— Parody — not to be confused with satire — is the imitation of either formal or thematic elements of one work in another for humorous purposes 42. Chiasmus Chiasmus: a rhetorical device in which two or more clauses are balanced against each other by the reversal of their structures in order to produce an artistic effect

“Never let a Fool Kiss You or a Kiss Fool You.” 43. Objectives of lecture Elements of Fiction

- Style

- Tone

- Language

- Symbolism

- Allegory

- Image

- Classification of intermediate and minor fiction

- Classification of genres between fiction and fact 44. Style - refers to the language conventions used to construct the story

- A fiction writer can manipulate diction (choice of words), sentence structure, phrasing, dialogue, and other aspects of language to create style

- Formal? Informal? Minimalistic? Richly detailed? Descriptive? Flowing?

- The communicative effect created by the author's style can be referred to as the story's voice - TONE 45. Tone - refers to the attitude that the story creates toward its subject matter:

- Dramatic? Humorous? Imperative? 46. Image - is a sensory impression used to create meaning in a story.

— visual imagery: Imagery of sight — aural imagery: Imagery of sound (e.g., the soft hiss of skis) — olfactory imagery: Imagery of smell (e.g., the smell of spilled beer) — tactile imagery: Imagery of touch (e.g., bare feet on a hot sidewalk) — gustatory imagery: Imagery of taste (e.g., the bland taste of starchy bananas) 47. Symbolism - If an image in a story is used repeatedly and begins to carry multiple layers of meaning

- Symbol indicates rather than explicates

- It is an indirect suggestion

- Symbol is a term for „objects“ in a literary text which transcend their material meaning (Klarer, p. 153)

- Symbol is one of the most characteristic means of artistic expression and is material for the construction of a myth

- Symbols can be universal or culturally based - Symbol is a word or a group of words which stands for a meaning other than the literal or purely denonative

- Origins in Greek symballein – „to compare by throwing together“

- Generally undestood symbols are CONVENTIONAL/ARBITRARY/TRADITIONAL symbols

- As opposed to PRIVATE SYMBOLISM

(Franko, p. 22-23) 48. Allegory - An allegory is a work of fiction in which the symbols, characters, and events come to represent, in a somewhat point-by-point fashion, a different metaphysical, political, or social situation

- Greek allégorein – „to talk differently, in images“

- Political allegory (J.Swift´s Gulliver´s Travels, G. Orwell´s Animal Farm)

- Moral allegory (N.Hawthorne´s The Scarlet Letter) 49. Fiction Term to differentiate the literary prose genres of short story, novella, and novel from drama and poetry; in older secondary sources it is often used synonymously with epic (Klarer, 139) 50. Fiction genres - development Epic (7th century BC) – Homer -Iliad, Odyssey

Romance (14th century)(Sir Gawain and the Green Knight)

Novel (17th c. Don Quixote, 18th c. Robinson Crusoe 51. Novel Picaresque novel

Bildungsroman

Epistolary novel

Historical novel

Satirical novel

Utopian novel

Gothic novel

Detective novel 52. Intermediate fiction — Fabliau (predecessor of a short story)

-narrative in verse

- Often comic

- Implies criticism of the manners and morals

- Based on folklore 53. Short story Simple plot

Short time span

Number of character limited

Limited setting 54. Intermediate fiction - Exemplum (Moral anecdote)

- Legend (medieval epic genre with religious theme, in verse or prose, contains motifs of fantasy and miracle

- Idyll (epic poem with a pastoral theme) 55. Minor fiction - Fable

- Parable

- Bestiary (compendium of animals)

- Fairy tale (set in imaginary world, supernatural elements, fictitious nature, stereotyped characters, moral lesson

- Anecdote (short narrative depicting a real or imaginary event, humorous, witty, brief narration

56. Between fiction and fact — Essay

- Emphasis on the individuality

- Primary concern is to report a fact however it employs devices of fiction, poetry or drama

- Subjective tone

- Highly individualized statements 57. Drama - Draó (Greek) – to act, to perform

- Drama as a genre: all works written for the theatre

- A single play

- A serious play

- Any event charged with conflict and tension (Franko, p. 162)

- A drama or play is a form of storytelling in which actors make the characters come alive through speech (dialogue) and action (stage directions). 58. Drama Combines aspects of all three Literary Genres - Literature

— fictional or factual

— common literary elements like plot, setting, characterization, and dialog

- Poetry

— Many plays are written in verse (for example, “Oedipus Rex” and “Othello”)

- Drama

— Its unique characteristic is that it is written to be performed 59. Play is to be performed in front of the audience - Playwright

- Script

- Dialogue

- Staging: stage directions (Acts, Scenes, set, props) — the history of western drama is rooted in ancient Greece 60. Greek Theatre - Ancient Greek theatre developed as part of religious festivals

- A “choric hymn” called the dithyramb was composed in honor of Dionysus, the god of wine and fertility

- The hymn was sung by a chorus of 50 men

- Over time, Thespis, the first actor, added dialog between one actor and the chorus 61. Thespis - Added the first actor to interact with the dithyramb chorus

- Called the actor the “protagonist”

- Is said to have performed in Athens in 534 B.C.

- The term “thespian,” (having to do with drama or theater) comes from his name.

- When the Dionysian festivals changed to drama competitions, Thespis was the first winner 62. Aristotle’s Rules for Ancient Drama - Classical Unities

— Unity of time (action must occur within 24 hours)

— Unity of place (action takes place in one location)

— Unity of action (single plot)

- Catharsis

— Socially acceptable purging of emotions such as anger, fear, or grief 63. Dramatic structure — Plot: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, denoument

— Character

- Dialogue: conversations of characters onstage

- Monologue: long speech given by one character to others

- Soliloquy: speech by a character alone onstage to himself or herself or to the audience

- Asides: remarks made to the audience or to one character; the other characters onstage do not hear an aside

— Setting (realistic and detailed?) or (abstract and minimal?) 64. Classification according to genre - Tragedy: obligatory composition (resolution is tragic)

- Protagonist vs antagonist

- Prologue (exposition)

- Chorus (ode)

- Epilogue (summary of the play) 65. Comedy - Comedy of manners

- Satiric comedy (employs hyperbole and burlesque)

- Romantic comedy

- Picaresque comedy

- Comedy of situation (situational humor and comicality)

- Masque (allegoric play based on mythology) 66. Drama - Serious but not necessarily tragic

- Genre between tragedy and comedy

Lyric drama (reflexive mood, widely employed metaphors, psychological motivation)

Realistic drama (serious moral and social issues)

Drama of the absurd (anxiety, breaks the established requirements imposed on play, violates principles of communication, disturbs the unified model of the world - Melodrama: sentimental, pathetic, emotional

- Monodrama: one character play

- Burlesque: high mixed with low (Cyrano de Bergerac)

- Farce: exaggeration and caricature of situation

- Grotesque: hyperbolization of reality, fantastic elements are used, presence of disharmony

- Variety show: purely in order to amuse

- Cabaret: satirical performance accompanied by music

- Vaudeville: theatrical genre of variety entertainment 67. Musical genres - Opera - Operetta - Musical 68. Critical Approaches - reveal how or why a particular work is constructed and what its social and cultural implications are

- to see and appreciate a literary work as a multilayered construct of meaning

- reread, rethink, and respond

- recent theory can be seen as an attempt to sort out the paradoxes that often inform the treatment of identity in literature 69. Link between literary explorations and critical/theoretical claims - Literary works characteristically represent individuals, so struggles about identity are struggles within the individual and between individual and group: characters struggle against or comply with social norms and expectations. In theoretical writings, arguments about social identity tend to focus, though, on group identities: what is it to be a woman? to be black? To be colonized? To be gay? To be „other“?

- Literature plays an important role in construction of identity 70. Meaning of Theory - Theory offers not a set of solutions but the prospect of further thought

- Theory is a DISCURSIVE practice

- Linked with education and institutions 71. Russian Formalism FORM and TECHNIQUE

The Russian Formalists of the early years of the twentieth century stressed that critics should concern themselves with the literariness of literature: the verbal strategies that make it literary,

- Roman Jakobson, Boris Eichenbaum, and Victor

Shklovsky (Culler, 122) 72. New Criticism - 30s , 40s in the United States

- the unity or integration of literary works

- Shift from understanding literature as a historical document towards aesthetic perception (from memorizing to interpretation)

- How each element in literature contributes to meaning (Culler, 122) 73. Feminist Literary Criticism - Simone de Beauvoir, Second Sex (1949)

- Emerged in the 70s

- Identity of women

- Position of women in the society

- Opposition between man/woman

- Discussion of the patriarchal perception of history/literature 74. Psychoanalytic literary criticism - Based on Freud´s psychoanalysis

- Explores the nature of the unconscious mind

- Analysis literary work through symbolism, myth, taboo, association, sexual relations

- Looks at the unconscious meaning of work 75. Marxist literary theory - Based on German philosopher, Karl Marx

- The role of class, ideology, social order

- Literature as a means of manipulation

- Literary works are seen as products of work (reflection of economy)

- New perception of the canon (middle class?) 76. Postcolonial criticism - Based on Edward Said´s work Orientalism (1978)

- involves the analysis of literary texts produced in countries and cultures that have come under the control of European colonial powers at some point in their history

- Reevaluation of the stereotypes, myths associated with marginalized groups 77. Reader-Response Criticism - The reader is active

- “Reading is . . . something you do.„

- the intended reader vs. implied reader

- For the reader, the work is what is given to consciousness; the work is not something objective, existing independently of any experience of it, but is the experience of the reader

- form of a description of the reader’s progressive movement through a text, analysing how readers produce meaning by making connections, 78. Structuralism Structuralism is a theory of humankind in which all elements of human culture, including literature, are thought to be parts of a system of signs.

In structuralism literary texts are linked to a larger structure, which may be a particular genre, a range of intertextuality connections, a model of a universal narrative structure, or a system of recurrent patterns or motifs. 79. Post-structuralism - Theory that rejects the certainty of meaning.

- It demonstrates that the meaning of a text is undeterminable by showing readers that the connection between the text and real world is

- unstable and has endless meanings. 80. Deconstruction - Deconstruction is most simply defined as a critique of the hierarchical oppositions that have structured Western thought: inside/outside, mind/body, literal/metaphorical, speech/writing, presence/absence, nature/culture, form/meaning.

- Based on Jacques Derrida

- A postmodern approach to exploring meaning by taking apart and examining taken-for-granted categories and assumptions, making possible newer and sounder constructions of meaning. 81. New Historicism New historicists acknowledge the importance of the literary text, but they also analyze the text with an eye to history

— history as a social science like anthropology and sociology, whereas older historicists tended to view history as literature's "background" and the social sciences as being properly historical.

— New historicists remind us that it is treacherous to reconstruct the past as it really was—rather than as we have been conditioned by our own place and time to believe that it was. 82. Introductory paragraph what/how/when/why? - outlines topic,

- Methodology

- structure of your paper

- What” is the paper all about?

- “How," i.e., with what method, do I approach the topic?

- “When" in the course of the paper am I dealing with which issues?

- Why? Possible contribution 83. MAIN Part - Subsequent paragraphs should be self-contained argument developing one particular aspect of the overall topic.

- every paragraph has a topic sentence which highlights the main idea of the paragraph and establishes a connection to the overall topic of the paper (i.e., the thesis statement). 84. Transition tips End of each paragraph should connect to the next one

(Subsequently, Furthermore, Arguably, Comparably, On the other side, However.......) 85. Concluding paragraph - briefly and concisely summarize the most important results of your discussion

- This is your final opportunity to remind the reader once more of your overall line of argumentation by repeating the thesis statement and by giving a short summary of your results.

- Contribution (wider implications of your paper?) 86. Critical apparatus - conventions that are concerned with the documentation of sources, a feature of scholarly writing

- Modern Language Association (MLA)

- Footnotes

- Bibliography

- Primary sources

- Secondary sources 87. Bibliography and footnes

- Last Name, First Name. Title of the Text. Place of Publication: Name of Publisher, Year of Publication.

- Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957.

- First Name Last Name, Title of the Text (Place of Publication: Name of Publisher, Year of Publication) Page Number.

- 1 Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957) 52.

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