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jaylaxies · 3 years

Text

LAKESIDE RENDEZVOUS

pairing : best friend!jake x fem!reader

genre : smut with a plot, best friends to lovers, mentions of vandalism, swimming, car sex (fem top), riding, breeding, a bit of fluff.

wc : 1.5k words

warning : 18+ content, minors dni.

a/n : im back with another jake fic! all likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, i hope y'all enjoy this fic <3

"did you just spray paint a dick on the wall?" you laughed in amusement at your best friend. vandalizing the city with spray paint at 2 am didn't seem like the best idea to you. "oh come on, it'll be fun." jake had conveniently added with expectantly raised eyebrows. and, well, you agreed.

"why? wanna suck on it." he heartily laughed at his 'joke' while finishing his said masterpiece. you snorted. "maybe i should draw boobs for you to suck on, then we'll both be busy." and soon enough, you were using the red can to draw what seemed to be boobs.

"i'd rather be busy with you." he winked, his face covered with mask to not let the harmful spray in, just same as yours. you rolled you eyes, making sure that he saw it even in the dimly lit street at the back of the hospital wall.

flirting was a common occuring with jake around, and it was always considered to be 'friendly' because best friends flirt, don't they? well not to the extent that you both do. that's what the others say at least.

before you could retort, the back door slammed open, revealing 3 workers, all wide eyed. they screamed at you for ruining the walls. and soon, you both were running as they chased you. jake's boyish laugh resonating all over the silent alleyway, his hand gripped your wrist.

you both were laughing and screaming as you reached his car, getting in as fast as you could humanly muster, you both left that place. the workers seeming lost as the car speed up into the roadway.

"that was crazy." you spoke after calming down, heat evident on your cheeks from all the running. he chuckled, "i told you it'd be fun." you hit his shoulder.

"they would've caught us you dumbass." you screamed, still smiling. "ow, don't hit the driver, what the fuck?" he feigned hurt but the smile on his face said otherwise.

"where are we going?" you interrogated, looking at him.

"our place." he said and you smiled, relaxing into the seat as you waited to reach the said destination, singing along to your favourite songs as he drove. he safely parked the car after reaching, your heartbeat finally calm and content now.

the moon was the first thing you saw at the lakeside dock, still prettier than ever, shining brightly at you. jake stands beside you, admiring the night sky alongside.

"let's swim." he spoke out of nowhere.

"what goes on in that brain of yours?" you asked, amused, stripping down in your undergarments already, not wanting to bicker with him.

you turned to see him already in his boxers, his body well defined and more muscular than ever, extending his hand for you to take, which you did in a heartbeat. with blooming laughter, you both jumped into the semi cold water of the night lake, screaming with joy.

he wrapped his arms around your waist as you wrapped your legs around him, trying to save yourself from the water. too close. his breath on your neck making you shiver further.

"stop laughing." you cried, holding on tighter.

"make me." he smirked.

silence. you stared at him, not annoyed but flustered all of a sudden. these past few days had been a torture for you, realising how you were in love with your best friend. this particular scenario didn't help much with your case either.

he noticed your sudden silent state, gulping once and moving closer to your lips, too close for a best friend.

"you're pretty." he breathed out. nervous yet bold, with a hope that you'd get his confession as a partner and not just a friend.

"so are you." you confessed, softly caressing his cheek. he leaned in your touch still looking in your eyes.

it was now or never, to take this relationship a step further or just lose everything all at once. the latter sounding worse. taking yet another deep breath, jake gently kissed you.

wet bodies pressed together as the moon and starts watched friendship turn into something more, something in the lines of what they call 'love'. the water calm and collected, silently witnessing it all.

you broke the kiss to catch your breath, staring at him with wide eyes. jake looked unsure. of the kiss? no. of your reaction? yes. even in the moonlight you could see his flushed face and shiny eyes.

"fuck it." and you were kissing again once the initial shock of you initiating the kiss wore off on jake. it was messy and needy, like you both wanted it. like you both needed it.

jake carried you back to the dock and sat down next to you with laboured breathing.

"so–" you stretched out, "you like me?" you winced asking the mere question, avoiding eye contact.

"i do." he said oozing sudden confidence. you both turned your faces together, eyes wide open.

"okay." you said, still processing the information.

"i do too." you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

seconds later, you were making out again, stumbling towards his car in a rush. the haste clear. soon, you were in the backseat of his car, jake hovering above you, water dripping his wet figure.

he wasted no time in pressing himself against you, kissing you fervently, cursing against your lips, something in the lines of how long he's waited to taste your lips.

"do you trust me?" he looked at you, serious.

you bit your lip, steadying your voice before pulling his face close to yours, giving him one meaningful kiss before looking him dead in the eye.

"jake, just fuck me already." you ordered.

soon, you were on his lap as he unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere on the front seat of the car. you held on to him while he placed butterfly kisses all over your neck, down to your boobs. you leaned against the seat, releasing breathy moans.

jake's lips were hot against your cold skin, making you melt under his touch. you could feel him growing hard as you sat just above his clothed dick, he placed his large hands on your waist as you started to grind on him. his hand near your wetness, teasing you slow.

"stop teasing me." you moaned.

"if you don't like it then why are you moaning?" he kissed your neck, sucking on it.

"yeah?" he asked, gripping your waist tighter, pushing your core against his now fully hardened cock.

you both swiftly removed your bottoms, now fully naked. he pushed two fingers in you, scissoring you open expertly. his mouth muttering profanities the whole time.

you grabbed his length, teasing his tip, spreading the precum all over it, stroking him firmly. you observed how he threw his head back as his eyes fluttered shut with the pleasure.

you watched him in the eye, removing his hand and rising up a bit to line yourself with his cock, slowly entering him and adjusting to his size, both of you moaning at the raw feeling, he whined as you clenched around him.

his big warm hands supported your ass and guided you up and down him, the sound of skin slapping along with the light rain which had started pouring; was the only thing to be heard.

you grabbed his wet hair as you started rolling your hips against him, eyes never leaving each others in the process. your other hand reaching to rub your clit for further stimulation.

jake was a mess, wet and shining in the dim moonlight. you observed how one of the water droplets travelled all the way from his neck to his faintly defined abs and all the way down.

you bit your lip again to prevent lewd sounds coming out but jake didn't like that. you gasped as he started bucking his hips to meet yours, hitting your good spot. breathing hard, you held on to him as his thrusts got faster and sloppy. you shivered as he fondled with your breasts, both of your climaxes building up.

"jake, i'm so close." you arched your back.

"me too, princess." he groaned.

you clenched, creaming his cock and sighing with bliss, keeping your head on his shoulder to catch your breath. he kept moving to reach his high, you soon felt him twitch inside of you.

"cum in me." you whispered near his ear, and so he did. his warm liquid filled you as he held you close to him, hugging you softly.

after a few seconds of silence with only the sound of rain begin audible, jake looked at you, intertwining your fingers with his.

"be mine please." he smiled, his eyes shiny and hopeful as you bit back a smile of your own.

"no." you playfully answered, making him whine and pout like a kid. you laughed, kissing him again.

"yes, okay–" you were interrupted with another kiss, you both smiled into it, happiness evident.

"you're sleeping at my place and we're cuddling the whole night, i don't care what you say." jake decided.

"okay." you were happy, happy to finally be with him as a lover and not just a friend.

spray painting at 2 am didn't seem like a bad idea to you anymore.

taglist : @en-cityzen @sunghoonsworld @softforqiankun @ye0njunzp1xie @eunoia-kth @lix-freckle3 @woniebae @baekhyunstruly @heenotes @sungniverse @shinramyeonz @starryjake

PERMANENT TAGLIST OPEN!

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impossiblerebelblaze · 5 years

Text

“So, kid, what’s your thing?”

“I can convince things to let me do impossible things.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s complicated. Find the most frustrating thing to lift and I’ll pick it up.”

Everyone’s standing around me. I hope this works, Ive never tried it with anything like this before. Just talk.

“So normally, I doubt a weak dumbass guy like me would be worthy, right?” I ignore the fact that everyone seems to be agreeing. “Let’s try.”

I know it won’t move. I just need contact before I actually try. I grab Mjölnir’s handle, and tug as hard as I can. It doesn’t budge. But my mind goes into overdrive. I probe into its material fabric. Let me just lift you. I don’t want to fight. I will not use you to fight.

I almost jump out of my skin when I get a reply. “But you are not worthy.” Think think think think think think. Think faster.

“So, as you can see, I can’t lift it..” I hold up my other hand. “But, I should be able to have a chat and have it let me pick it up. That’s all I want to do is pick you up once.

“Not worthy.” I know. But I submit to your overwhelming power, my dear. I do not ask to borrow your strength. I do not ask for any of the glory or ability. How long has it been since someone spoke with you? “Too long. I am impressed you are able, for one so weak.” Thank you, my dear. I am not worthy, but I am interesting. “Interesting enough, one may suppose.”

The handle wobbles. Everyone else falls silent.

You will not regret me. “May we speak again sometime?” You can count on it, my dear.

The astounding weight pulls away, and I hide my own astonishment as i see the gap between the hammer and the floor widen. It’s still heavy, but I have it. Mjölnir is in my hand, off the ground. The room is dead silent. Thank you. I slowly turn to look everyone in the eyes.

“I told you so. I’m not worthy, but I’m holding it.”

“How are you doing that..?” Thor mumbles.

“It’s your hammer, I thought you’d have known everything about it,” I state with a wink. “Maybe I’ll let you in on my secret later.”

“Okay, if he can lift that thing without destroying my floor, he must be something special.

There’s a knock at my door. “‘Sup?”

The door swings open, and Thor peeks in. “Is it a good time to speak with you?”

“Eh, sure. Curious about how I lifted your hammer?”

“I am. For I’m certain that you aren’t worthy, and you wouldn’t have enough strength to lift it otherwise.”

“Come sit down dude! I’d love to chat about this.” He reluctantly agrees, sitting with me on my bed.

“So. Mjölnir. Something impossible to lift if it deems you unworthy. Yet I did just that. Do you have any guesses?”

He scrunches his brow, thinking. “You did mention having a ‘chat’. Did that have something to do with it?”

“Exactly. You’re the only one to have picked up on that so far.” He smiles. “Did you know that Mjölnir can talk?”

“No, I didn’t.” He pauses. “It can talk?”

“Oh yes. It surprised me, normally I just talk at things and they obey. Your hammer gave me a good scare, I thought my trick wasn’t gonna work.”

“So you.. made a deal? A bargain of some sort?”

I shrug. “Basically. I told it that I knew I wasn’t worthy, that all I wanted to do was pick it up. I wouldn’t be able to fight with it, nor would I have access to any of its abilities. But I can lift it. Maybe if I had the right leverage or reasoning, I’d be able to do more.”

“That is truly remarkable. Can you do the same with living beings?”

“Oh, absolutely. Gotten myself out of trouble a fair few times with my shtick.”

“Can you show me?”

“I mean I guess I could. But there’s nothing that’s quite as set in stone as your hammer.”

“I never said you had to tell me to do something.”

A slow grin crosses my face. “Oh, I see. Who should we get?”

“You and my brother are rather similar. I’d like to bet on that,” he laughs, but when he sees my expression, recovers with a “I’d put my money on you of course.”

“Dude, im just a skinny little human.”

“But Loki never bent Mjölnir’s will to his own.”

“I don’t want to be a part of your silly game.”

“Brother, please. You’ve looked so miserable recently.”

“I’m not miserable, I’m just surrounded by.. you all.”

“But there’s a new one of us you may like to meet.”

“I doubt it.”

“He’s got a rather remarkable story already, and he’s only been here for three days.”

Loki drops his book with a definitive glower. “Oh good, do pray tell me about the antics of a child.”

“He lifted Mjölnir, is that interesting enough?”

Loki pauses.

“He’s unworthy.”

I peek around the corner, grinning irritatingly. “I’m unworthy!”

Loki picks up his book again, facing away from us. “Changed my mind, I’m still not interested.”

“You don’t even want to meet me?”

“No.”

I stroll over next to Thor. “So that’s really your brother, huh?”

“Yes, he is.”

“I really thought he’d have been more interested. Someone who can talk their way out of more situations than he can? Oh well.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Nah, that would mean you’re paying attention.”

“So what if I’m paying attention to the two idiots behind me? You’re both too loud to ignore.”

“If I dropped your hammer on him, would it shut him up?”

“Yes it would, I’ve done it before. Very effective. Want to try?”

“Kinda.”

“Here you go, tiny man.”

I grunt. It’s heavy.

“Hold me up so I can get the most irritating angle.”

He grabs me by the waist and hoists me up with one arm. My face is a few inches from the book Loki’s holding up to block his sight of me.

“Hey.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Nice book. I’ve read it. Wanna know who dies?”

Still no answer.

“Do you wanna punch my stupid face in yet?”

“Immensely.”

“He speaks!”

“You won’t, if you keep it up.”

“He threatens!”

He drops his book, smiling at me like a snake. “It’s what I do best.”

“So do you wanna take us up on the offer, or do you wanna put up with us for a few more hours? It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Define ‘fun’.”

“You get to try and work your magic on me and try to psychologically bend my will to yours.”

He really can’t hide the glint in his eye. “Boundaries?”

“No weapons. Don’t bring your knives and I won’t bring this hammer,” I state, swinging it in front of his face. “Deal?”

His grin is icy. “Deal.”

“Shake on it.”

He grabs my hand, awkwardly because I’m still upside down.

Thor and I wait in the upstairs lobby. He turns to me. “He’s going to bring his knives, you know.”

“Oh, I do.”

“He always brings knives.”

“I know.”

“You’re a human though, aren’t you worried about that?”

“No. I shook his hand. Remember how I had to touch Mjölnir before I lifted it?”

Realization seeps into his expression. “You and Loki truly are similar.”

“Should we have told others that we’re doing this?”

“I did, I figured Tony and Peter would find it humorous.”

“Good. Now I really can’t fail. I hope I’m ready for this.”

“As do I, tiny man.”

“Be careful, Uncle!”

“Hey, are we selling popcorn or something for this?”

“Shut up.”

We stand eye to eye. I’ve had time to process my info and shit. He doesn’t know it.

“You and your particular breed of tiny creatures don’t usually stand a chance against me. You either have an ego larger than my father’s, or you’re incredibly stupid.”

This could be tricky. I’ve never done this with anyone even remotely close to what he is.

“Well, no way to tell until we try. Shake on it?” I stick out my hand. His eyes narrow, but locks hands. I poorly repress a smile.

“Think this is funny?”

“Not in the least. Why, do you?” Think. What do I do?

“Mildly amusing, yes.” Kneel?

“So what are you going to do to me, exactly?” Keeping contact with me is important. You won’t release my hand, not yet.

“Oh, I don’t know yet.” Liar. I see the flicker of motion, his instinct is to grab a knife. He doesn’t want to yet, though. No knife will work, I say they won’t cut my flesh. They won’t hurt me because I say so.

“Your eyes say otherwise. Killing a teammate, naughty.” Bend your knees, I just want to prove this one thing. That’s it, I promise.

“You think you can read me. Quaint. How about a taste of real foresight?” Down. Go down.

His hand darts towards my face, faster than I could dodge. Unarmed, I think in surprise. The instant that there’s contact, my vision goes white. He’s trying to pull something. But instead, I feel a huge surge of foreign power through my veins, followed by a deafening bang. My vision clears just in time to see Loki get flung to the ground. I look around and find that I’m also on the ground.

“Wow,” I mutter, pulling myself to my feet.

“What did you do?” Loki asks, confused as I am.

“I dunno, I just.. did my best, I guess.” I see that he hasn’t moved. “You good?”

“What did you do to me?” He asks again, voice sounding a bit more dangerous.

“I just, did the thing.. here, I’ll help you up, it shouldn’t happen again,” I state, grabbing his arm. Unfreeze? You can stand, I didn’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you, I did what I wanted to.

The second he’s on his feet, I follow the swift arc of his other hand. The wickedly sharp dagger stops a hair’s breadth from my throat. I shouldn’t have too much to worry about, I spoke to them. Hopefully it worked.

A second later, everyone tenses up, realizing what happened. Play the fucking situation.

I release the breath I was holding, blink slowly, and give a wide, nonchalant grin.

“C’mon, no need for that.” I push the blade away with my index finger, frantically telling it to not hurt me, to not cut my flesh. “Really. You’d think I caught you offguard or something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His other hand is suddenly holding a twin knife to my stomach. I hope to god that the metal listened.

“What? Are you gonna kill me?”

“I am tempted.”

I can feel everyone panic a bit more.

“Don’t worry guys, he won’t hurt me. He couldn’t. You wanna try? Do it, you might not get another chance.”

“He stabs as a warning, do not tempt him!”

“Do it, coward.”

I see the flicker of malice. There’s no real intent, though. Instinct drives his hands forward, with a twist that should’ve left me gutless.

I made the right call. The knives don’t even scratch me. I blink. He’s frozen for the barest moment, and I grab one of his arms. Drop them. Now. You’re out of breath, too.

The blades clatter loudly against the concrete as Loki doubles over, winded.

“What the fuck,” someone breathes. “How the hell,”

I release Loki’s arm, wait a heartbeat, and grin.

“Too bad. Oh well, that was fun!”

@random-rambutan

#rowan speaks #SBDUABHDHA JUST POSTING THIS FOR A FRIEND IM #HSBDHHHHHH #mcu tag #rowan writes #long post

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momo-de-avis · 5 years

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tell me more about millais and the whole "steal ur wife and have a happy marriage with her lmaoo" and the whole pedo thing??? im intrigued

At the top of my head and very quickly without bothering myself with checking things online cause I’m a bit lazy sorry (though I’ve been over this story for quite a while, I trust my instinct)

When the Pre-Raphaelites appeared, they were the bad boys of London. Reasons:

1) Fucked around, mostly Rossetti

2) Broke academic rules by painting in excruciating and vivid details that weren’t possible with the naked eye (like Holman Hunt painted every single blade of the grass—your eye can’t see it unless you stare closely at it, so academically, that was ugly)

3) Used redheaded women as models. Now, Victorians were absolute fucking lunatics, but the ideal beauty to them was some corpse-looking Morticia Adams. Black hair and pale skin, was top notch. Blonde, blue-eyed beauty came second, probably. What mattered was the pale skin. It was a trend among Victorian women to paint purple and blue veins to look as dead as possible because the frailty of women in a society that told they literally were good for nothing except breeding was the Latest Trend. Redheads, however, were considered cursed. Case in point: the greatest pre-raphaelite muse, Lizzie Siddal: she was not only a red-head, but her skin was also darker than most prefered. Not that she was anything but a white woman, just not white enough to look like you were already flirting with tuberculosis and ready to die fashionably at 40 (though Lizzie was famous for being constantly sick and bedridden. And addicted to Laudanum, like a good Victorian).

4) Basically what gave them the name: PRE-raphaelite. To explain quickly: academic painting privileged the art that resembled Raphael's paintings: harmonious, made of volumes through precise shadowing, mannerist in its style. Line and drawing prevailed above colour. This is linked to formalism so I’m just gonna wrap it up quickly: drawing was considered the intellectual form of art (because in the 16th century people were like ‘oh, astronomy is a science!’ and 'oh, mathematics is a science!’ and people were like, 'well shit, we gotta find a reason to call arts a science too’ and the Renaissance worked that out by explaining that drawing was basically a form of science. Take Da Vinci). The Pre-raphaelites said: fuck that noise, and privileged colour. They used techniques to brighten their paintings (like a layer of white paint applied to the canvas before they applied the preliminary drawing, which made the colours stand out, and then finished it off with wax varnish, which makes it glow. If you ever see a PR painting live, note just how vivid it is. It looks like it’s never gonna wear off, it’s incredible). So with this, they basically said the Royal Academy was a bunch of piss babies who knew jack shit about painting (the accusation of being dumbasses included).

5) …but to be that guy, you had to LIVE the life. So, if you privilege medieval thinking, lifestyle and theology, what you gotta do? BE that medieval knight Victorians thought were oh so Chivalric. Again, famously, Lizzie Siddal is known to be the bad girl of this revival: she refused to wear crinoline and whatever shit the Victorian ladies wore. She wore loose dresses, no corsets and overall dressed like the engravings on Tennyson’s Idylls of the King. She was actually lauded for her commitment like, even Ruskin at one point saw Rossetti as a piss baby rock star wannabe who never finished his shit, but this girl? She committed.

So you see, when these guys popped up, Victorians scowled. BADLY.

But they knew that, to conquer the hearts of promiscuous dandies and hypocritical high-society, laudanum-ridden, arsenic-eating uptight douches and douchesses, they had to get to the loins of one man: most important art critic of his time, single-handedly responsible for elevating William Turner to the True Genius of English Painting: John Ruskin.

Now, just WHO was John Ruskin?

First of all, this little shit was overtly religious. Protestant kind, so you know what you’re in for. This guy studied Turner back and forth, knew everything about him, wrote extensively of his genius and was responsible, as I said, to consecrate him to the memory of British sea painting. Except he purposefully left a bit out, one particular episode of Turner’s life that, to Ruskin’s mind, would ruin his reputation.

Turner was a freak. My man has ENDLESS erotic drawings that go from curious artist look into the Vagina from full-blown pre-victorian porn. And Ruskin kept it all locked away inside his drawer.

The thing was, Ruskin was brought up surrounded by art. This guy looked at Roman statues of women, with their perfectly waxed peepees and toned arms supporting perky breasts and DEAD ASS though this was what women looked like.

So he married Effie Gray, a woman in everything respectable, a prosperous marriage for the good ol’ Victorian lady and dude.

And for the next five years of their marriage proceeded to REFUSE to even touch her.

When the pre-raphaelites pop up, Ruskin attends their very first exhibition and writes them a glowing review. Immediately they go from nut-heads to pop stars. But among them all, it was clear that it was John Everett Millais who was the most talented. So Ruskin took him under his wing.

His first assignment was: paint my portrait. But the pre-raphaelites did something the British academics didn’t: to paint nature, they went outside and painting the motif by looking directly at it. And Ruskin, who praised this mode of making art, had in mind the precise spot he wanted to be painted on: a waterfal or some shit in Scotland, where he owned a cottage.

This cottage was not big. It was actually rather small—you know, in pretending-to-be-a-peasant-is-so-much-fun! victorian fashion. And what does this absolute buffoon does? He invites Millais and his wife Effie in to paint his portrait.

Now I want you to imagine this woman, who has been pushing down 5 years of Horny, putting up with this dude’s shit, enclosed in a tight space with this man—who was older than herself—and incidentally, a handsome looking young fella who paints nicely.

I insist on this thing that Ruskin didn’t touch his wife because he thought women looked like statues because he actually told her. He told her he found her repulsive because—what do you know!!! The peepee’s got some pubic hair! And women menstruate! And like, we’re real fucking things, not Pygmalion's wet dream forged over and over again! She actually wrote a letter to her father detailing this (if you watch the show Desperate Romantics, the scene were Effie confesses this to Millais, the actress is actually reciting this letter word for word).

So when they return to London after the painting is done, they just… Fall in love. I mean, shit, what was she supposed to do?

The face of a man who doesn’t know he’s about to be shit-whipped by his pupil, painted by none other than his protegée, this same pupil.

But remember: no matter what Victorian fangirls say, and whatever that Victorian TV show tries to show you, this society was absolute utter shit for women. Effie Grey presented an annulment proposal to her marriage, and society collapsed on her. She was actually blamed for the fact that Ruskin wouldn’t consummate the marriage. And because she had grown quite close to Millais, she had to prove before the entirety of Victorian society that she was a virgin. Oh, yes. It’s what you’re thinking.

Those open-your-legs-wide-and-let-me-insert-this-not-at-all-friendly-looking-metal-utensil-up--your-private-canal-to-prove-you-are-a-virgin. This, mind you, was back then as utterly humiliating as it sounds now, and to make matters worse, Mr. I-only-fuck-clean-shaven-pussy claimed she was mentally unstable.

Either way: annulment conceded, and she married John Everett Millais. The two went on to a lifelong of fucking and 8 children. Check Millais’ painting Peace Concluded and tell me those two idiots did not die happy together.

I kid you not: until Millais’ death, Effie was socially ostracized. She was even barred from being present in social events where Queen Victoria was, proclaimed by the Queen herself (because remember kids! Victorian society absolutely sucked because it was none other than our favourite imperialist who made it so!) even after she ordered Millais the first Laureate painter. It was only when Millais was dying that in his death bed he BEGGED to lift that stupid shit and she conceded. I just honestly believe Effie didn’t give a shit at this point, because my girl was happy.

So, you ask, what happened to Ruskin?

Don’t think he got off easy lmao. He had his own demise. He wasn’t seen with good eyes after the whole annulment debacle. But of course, being the pissy adult he was, he had to make things worse.

Enter Rose de La Touche.

You see, Rose de la Touche was Ruskin’s pupil. She is, as far as we can tell from his writings, the only woman he ever called attractive and revealed to be attracted to her. When, you ask?

When she was fucking 9 years old, the first time he met her.

He became tutoring her when she was 14. At this point, this ugly ass vulture was way past his 40s. Rose’s parents actually made it worse if my mind doesn’t fail me, but I’m not certain so I won’t address them. Either way, he pretty much groomed her and she grew infatuated with him. He actually made plans to marry her once she turned like, 18 or something, like a good pedo.

The only reason Rose didn’t marry Ruskin? Effie Gray stepped in. Not that she was that interested in what was to happen. The thing was, the reason for the annulment was that Ruskin was impotent, and if he fucked a healthy girl and she got pregnant, she’d be in the shits. But either way, I think it was easy given that he was like 40 years older or some shit. Rose actually declined to marry because she wanted the marriage to be unconsummated, but this time around, ya big Pedo declined! I wonder why was it so easy the first time, and so hard now that he found himself a neat little child to corrupt, right?

At some point, even fucking Rossetti intervened. Now, Rossetti was the rock star of his time: he fucked everything that moved, he got into affairs with the wives of his pupils while Lizzie lingered between life and death at his home, and it took him some 9 years to finally keep his promise to Lizzie and marry her ass. He was the last person you’d expect to say a thing. But you know you’ve fucked up and that you’re a perverted piece of shit when THIS IS THE GUY who steps in to say 'hey, Ruskin, big fan, but you really gotta tone it down cause even I’m not a pedo, pal’.

Now listen: yeah, there’s a lot of speculation about Ruskin’s 'love affair’ with Rose de La Touche. Did he really fall in love with her when she was 9? We don’t know. We don’t care either, because it doesn’t make him any less a fucking pedo. Like, yeah, good art critic, nice theory on the whole Modern Painting book, but this dude had some serious issues.

And there you go

#breakerofvows

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