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#most likely on bookshop so i can support my local bookstore
a-library-cat · 1 year
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A review of Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao @xiranjayzhao
Publishing info:
First Edition published in 2021 by Penguin Teen Canada. My copy is a first edition that I purchased brand new.
General info:
This book is for a young adult audience. Genres include Sci-fi, fantasy, and LGBT+. One main character and POV. A love triangle that turns into a polycule.
StoryGraph page
My overall score is 5 out of 5 stars, and I would recommend this book to sci-fi lovers, mech anime fans, Chinese history buffs, and people sick of YA love triangles. Notes under the cut (spoilers):
Wu Zetian said Fuck the patriarchy. Also gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.
This is one of those books that probably wouldn't have been rated as high, if I hadn't burned through it in 2 hours. Not because it's an easy or short read, but because it's one of those books that you can't put down once you start it. I already had my eye on this book before publication, simply because the author went viral (for completely unrelated reasons) before the book was out. It was also one of those books that I knew I would fall in love with, so it was one of the rare instances where I bought a book brand new without reading it first, because I knew I would like it. I love this book and story so much that I have to keep myself from preordering the sequel, Heavenly Tyrant. Give coin, receive sequel?
Pros:
The worldbuilding is based off of mecha anime tropes, Chinese mythology, and the life of the real Emperor Wu Zetian, the only female emperor in Chinese history. It sounds like a weird combination, but it all works really well together.
I love the characters. Zhao clearly is very attached to all their characters, because they're all written very well. They're all horrible people, but they are also people that you want to see succeed, and by the end of the book you're rooting for them. Your heart is also breaking for them. I love Li Shimin so much, he deserved better.
The love triangle is so good! A lot of people joke about how love triangles are dumb and how everything would be solved if they just all fucked together. Of course, this isn't necessarily true with every love triangle, but Zhao made it work! They even made it an essential plot point, so it would tie back into the narrative and character arcs.
A! content! warning! I love this! This is a very dark book, with dark themes and explicit violence at some parts, so it was much appreciated! I wish more books would do this so I don't have to rely on Does the Dog Die.
Cons:
This books feels rushed, in a "I had a fucking word limit" way. I believe Zhao confirmed that Penguin made them cut their word limit down significantly, so I can't necessarily fault them for it, but it's still disappointing.
Zhao also said that the original script was a lot darker and more explicit, and all I can say is I want the directors cut. To be serious, I feel like this series would've had more room to breathe as an adult sci-fi rather than YA, but I'm not sure what Zhao wanted and what their literary agent thought would sell. I can only hope Penguin gave them more wiggle room for the sequel.
These characters are not... good people, to be blunt. While this isn't a con for me personally, a lot of people like reading books where the protagonist is also a hero/good person, so I feel like I should add this for those people. Tbh the real Wu Zetian was shady and Zhao does not seem like the kind of person to sugarcoat history for a wider audience.
If you made it this far go check out Zhao's YouTube for more info on Iron Widow, Wu Zetian, and Chinese mythology/history/culture!
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drdemonprince · 1 year
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oh my god can i get trans masc self infantilization for 500 alex
Quick hate read of this piece:
my relationship to gender was mediated (isn’t it always) by capitalism. I could not meet another trans man who could tell me how to behave, but I could shop for one. I could buy distilled trans expertise, and tell myself I was putting money back into “the community;” I was engaged in political action, redistributing my middle-class cash to support people I had never met, but whose welfare was, nonetheless, my business.
oh my fucking god Jude buying a huge crop of trans books at the local indie bookshop is not political action. I know booksellers who work at beloved indie-progressive bookstores quite intimately so if you haven't heard yet, I'll be the first to tell you: no matter their feminist branding, these places treat their workers like shit and pay them minimum wage. And often these stores are hell to be in for trans femme people.
edit: whoops he didnt even claim to support indie bookstores, it was a chain in a mall wtf
Also, it's baffling to me that a published author like Doyle can claim buying books is somehow redistributing wealth to poor, trans authors. First, wealthy people are widely overrepresented in publishing, and two, the vast majority of published authors never see a single cent of royalites. Over 90% of books never "earn out". You'd be kicking them about $2.50 of a $25 hardcover sale even if they did. stop making your consumption seem righteous dude.
These authors didn’t hate people like me; they didn’t disagree with me or dislike my general aesthetic. These authors literally hated me, me personally, the dude who had recently given them money. 
the ENTITLEMENT!!! How dare these trans authors post openly that they disagree with you and your tepid liberal politics, you bought one of their books and (maybe, but probably not) gave them $3 !!!!
To a shy eleven-year-old boy on his first day of school, which is what I was emotionally and even hormonally at the time, it was devastating. I cried for days. I was on vacation.
a middle aged incredibly well connected man in publishing is pulling "im a little birthday boy -- hormonally" shenanigans. I get that reading critical comments about yourself hurts. I have been there buddy. I've received repeated misgendering, misogynistic criticisms and insults while I was newly on HRT and not even out to anyone! I was also a 30 year old adult man with a career and coping tools. I was not an eleven year old boy. I was not the victim of anything, really, except for my own lack of comment moderation habits at the time.
the amount of real life transphobia i have since lived looms so much larger that little petty online slights doesnt even rank. we're not talking about threats or doxxing here. we're talking people on twitter thinking he shouldnt be the face of trans politics.
because I know who this author is and move in the same circles, I have seen the message of hate that he's talking about. People mostly talk about him sardonically and insult his worst opinions and most hastily-written pieces. That's not even hate. That's just begging him to be responsible in his work and to maybe not write apologia for trans cops (one of the bad takes he was most openly criticized for at the time).
Those guys were my heroes, was the thing. They were the ones I had wanted to teach me how to act. I used to imagine conversations with them, think about what I would ask if I got the chance.
Buddy, you said you literally just discovered these authors mere weeks or months prior, having bought up every book published by a trans guy that you could find. It's not like you had posters of them hanging up on your bedroom wall as a child. And even if you did, youre a grown man in your forties who writes very inane takes. Some critique from your contemporaries comes with the territory and is in fact a compliment. it means people recognize youre a significant cultural voice and they want you to do better!
When I get into conflict with another trans person, when I stumble on the thread where my elders are shit-talking me, I am not looking at my computer. I’m in my math class, after lunch period, hearing the squeak of metal on linoleum as someone drags their desk a few inches away.
your elders??? are you talking about people who are like, three years older than you Jude .I understand that hostile middle and high school experiences bring massive trauma, but holding adults who are intellectually critiquing you, a fellow adult, responsible for the trauma you endured as a teen is so wildly inappropriate and immature that i cant stand it.
It would be one thing if Doyle showed any self-awareness of the disjoint here, and was just talking about being triggered, but he doesnt, not anywhere in the piece. he implies throughout that it's people being mean to him on twitter who are really at fault.
oh my god he likens himself to Isabell Fall later on in this piece i cant
i just cant with this dude hes always taking so many unnecessary Ls and gets hired so fucking much to write about trans experiences when he clearly has next to zero community connections and sense of scale when it comes to the issues we face. its so annoying!!!
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horistans · 1 year
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what are some other good bisexual het romance series?
Honestly, I wasn't quite sure how to answer this! You likely didn't mean anything by it, but "bisexual het" really threw me for a loop 😭 😭 I would refrain from using that phrase in the future!
Anyway, I'm assuming you are looking for something like GSNK ❤️ Since I'm not sure what it is you like about GSNK, or who you are and what you usually read, I'll just recommend a bunch of stuff :p
I worked at a bookshop last year, so I'll start with my usual recommendations on LGBT+ manga/graphic novels (that are officially licensed in English). They're mostly coming-of-age stories. Linked is the instagram post with more recommendations, explanations, & summaries!
Also in this rec are: Manga with characters like Kashima (and relationships like HoriKashi)
I was gonna include a lot more, but this list is already pretty excessive 😅 This is scheduled to post tomorrow evening, but know I finished this at midnight!!!!!!!!!!!! (Happy Valentine's Day!!!)
Main Recommendations
My usual rotation of recommendations from back when I worked at a bookstore
Blue Flag by KAITO
8 volumes. My favourite series!! I have so many thoughts about it. Simplest way to summarize the theme of the series is in the first sentence, "Your best friend... or your lover. You can only save one." (implied: who would you choose?). Love triangle between the main character, Taichi, a shy female classmate, Futaba, and the main character's popular, childhood friend, Toma.
A lot of western fans complain about the ending, but I thought it was very fitting for the series. I might be biased because it's my favourite, and I can't necessarily justify myself without spoiling it >.<;; CW for homophobia & outing as a major conflict in a later volume.
Our Dreams at Dusk by Yuhki Kamatani
4 volumes. Beautiful visual metaphors. Main character comes to terms with being gay & overcoming his internalized-homophobia. CW for attempted suicide & homophobia.
The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang
1 volume. Focuses on gender identity and presentation!
Skip & Loafer by Misaki Tamamatsu
8 volumes (7 English localizations), ongoing. Has an anime coming out soon! I reread it recently and joined their fan server, but I'm just lurking ^^; I feel like people who enjoy GSNK would also enjoy this series.
Although it isn't explicitly queer unlike the other two recommendations. It's still very charming! I really like the main character and her aunt. Even though her aunt is a supporting character, the chapter that focused on her made me cry a lot. My favourite characters are actually the aunt and the drama club president (a side character... but given his role, it tracks LOL /hj) I remember when I first read it and didn't understand why people would call it WLW representation (I still enjoyed it though!) After my recent reread, I get it now >u< Even if it's not canon, I ship two of the main character's friends together. I'm very curious to other people's interpretations~ My wife doesn't really read the same things I do, so I have to wait to watch the anime with her when it comes out before we can discuss it together.
The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang
1 volume. Focuses on gender identity and presentation! I picked it up because I liked the cover and I wanted to read more things by Asian American authors. I remember telling my sister it reminded me of Miraculous Ladybug (likely because the main character is a dressmaker)
Manga with Ikemen Girls (like Kashima)
Most, if not all, can be found on mangadex. Not all of them are HoriKashi-esque, but half of them are
The Story of How I Went to a Mixer and There Were No Women There
Only scanlated up to ch. 8 unfortunately 😢 I've started buying the Japanese volumes but my grasp of the language has gone downhill since I graduated lol Pretty much as the title says! Some guy gets invited to goukon by a female classmate, but he and his friends find 3 ikemen when they arrive. Turns out his classmate and her friends work at a crossdressing bar! And they just didn't feel like changing back after work!
Story About How My xx Girlfriend Dotes on Me
Also known as The Androgynous Girlfriend is Doting on the President. A cute short series (with short chapters) about the class president (unnamed until the 2nd "vol") and his super handsome, cool girlfriend, Natsuki. Under her stoic exterior, she's a little spoiled and very forward about her love for the president! I thought this series was really cute! I want more chapters of them!!
Cigarette Kiss / Refrain Kiss by Yorumo (part of the Resonant Blue—Girl's Best Time collection)
2 chapters of a cute GL collection by the artist Yorumo! Kobayashi knows she's cute, and she flaunts it with the intention of hooking up with handsome guys! And to her luck, she was just assigned to work with the cool Akira. But it turns out Akira's a girl! The only GL in this recommendation list...
Ikemen Dansou Reiya ni Koishiteru!! by Yunoki
AKA I'm in Love with a Handsome Cosplayer Dressed as a Man!! Another title summary lol... Only 1 chapter has been scanlated so far. Is a remake of another series by the author with a (slightly) different title, but I recommend this version (restarted in 2022). The main characters have a lot of similarities to HoriKashi! Assistant cameraman Kippei is invited to attend a cosplay event for the first time to get practice photographing people. He is immediately captivated by cosplayer Makoto. Makoto is equally interested in Kippei (he has muscle from lifting heavy shooting equipment after all!), but, not wanting to disappoint him, she continues to pretend to be a man in an attempt to get closer to him.
Tonari no Kinniku Joshi by Ano Amesuke
A short series about a muscular girl and a tsundere boy Ruby (the muscular girl) isn't technically an ikemen, but I love their dynamic (maybe I just like tsunderes?) I also have no recollection on how I found this series but it was saved on my mangadex. Some parts of the scanlation read weirdly, and since it's a short series, the writing isn't the best, but I still enjoyed it!!!!!!
Not a manga but will include it anyway: the Taiwanese drama Bromance would also fall under this category! I remember when older HoriKashi fans and I would talk about how well it would suit them as an AU ^^
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There's so many more I wanted to recommend for one reason or another (like My Crossdressing Senpai... I wanted to make a whole section about exploring gender identity or featuring trans characters... And then there's some that barely have any relation and I just think people should pick up like Ruri Dragon) but I've been working on this for the past 4 hours LOL
Anyway if you took the time to read all this, thank you ❤️ If you've read any of these, feel free to reply ur thoughts or which ur most interested in!
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Title: Some Faraway Place • Author: Lauren Shippen Series: The Bright Sessions (#3) • Number of Pages: 352 • Rating: 5/5 Published: September 28, 2021 • Read: May 18, 2021 - June 9, 2021
Content Warnings: family illness, death, imprisonment, injury, violence, manipulation
Goodreads Synopsis: Rose Atkinson’s mother can see the future. Her father can move things he doesn't touch. Her brother Aaron can read minds. And Rose, well, she makes a mean spaghetti bolognese. Everyone else in her family is Atypical, which means they manifested an ability that defies the limits of the human experience. At nineteen, well past the average age of manifestation, Rose is stuck defending her decision not to go to college and instead working in the kitchen of a local restaurant, hoping to gain the experience she needs to become a chef. When a rollerblading accident sends her to the hospital, she meets a girl she can't forget and she starts to feel like maybe her life isn't quite so small. But when she starts falling asleep mid-conversation, she thinks, then again maybe I’m doomed to never have good things. Rose should be happy to learn that she’s Atypical after all—that diving into dreams makes her a part of her family in the way she always wanted. But the more time she spends in the dreamworld, the more complicated her ability becomes. Trying to balance her work, her power, and a girlfriend who doesn’t know about Atypicals, Rose seeks help. But she soon discovers that being Atypical comes with dangers she never could have imagined. Even her carefully constructed dreamworld isn’t safe. This is the story of Atypical Rose, who discovers that your dreams coming true isn’t always a good thing.
My Review: I received a digital ARC of this book from Tor Teen via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
I had the honor of getting a physical ARC of the first book in the series from Lauren herself back in 2019, and I’m a huge fan of the original The Bright Sessions podcast and its spinoffs, so I was super super excited to read Some Faraway Place early!! This one is extra special to me - there aren’t many queer Jewish characters in YA (let alone plus-sized queer Jewish characters), and they definitely don’t have many opportunities to be on the book cover, so when I heard Rose was getting her own book and then later saw the cover, I was just so happy. Needless to say, I was just as happy (if not more so) when I read it : )
Rose doesn’t get a lot of “screen” time in the original podcast, so getting a more in-depth look into her story and her ability was awesome!! It was especially cool getting to see her gradual discovery of her ability and how her relationship with her family changes as a result. Out of the three TBS novels, this one is definitely the most jam packed - not only does it include Rose, her dreamworlds, and her developing relationship with Emily, but it also includes characters from the previous two novels, some more significantly than others. But, because everything in this universe is connected in more ways than we will ever realize, it all works together well. There is a lot of grey morality in Some Faraway Place, and it definitely got darker at times than I was expecting, but all of those moments were perfectly balanced with the lighter aspects of the book - Rose’s relationship with Emily, her love for her cooking, her humor, her pleasant dreamscapes, etc.
Another aspect I loved was the variety of narration - most of the book is standard prose, but there are also social media posts and letters sprinkled throughout as well. They reveal important pieces of the characters and allow the reader to see some of the novel’s events from other perspectives… and they have so many easter eggs and fandom references, which was super fun for me since I know the podcast so well : ) But do not fear - people will still be able to enjoy and understand everything even without having listened to the podcast.
Lauren Shippen is one of the most incredible writers, and Some Faraway Place is a perfect sendoff and love letter to the TBS universe. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to read it early, and I’m so excited for everyone to get to read it in September : )
Some Faraway Place on Goodreads This Review on Goodreads My Goodreads Some Faraway Place on StoryGraph This Review on StoryGraph My StoryGraph
Purchase this book from Bookshop using my affiliate link to support indie bookstores while helping me earn a commission at no extra cost to you!!
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tell-tale-taeil · 3 years
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A customer (Chapter 1 out of 2)
Protagonists: Jeno Lee, original character, NCT Dream members mentioned Genre: mystery, noir, self-knowledge “Jeno wanders to a mysterious bookstore where he encounters even more mysterious individual, but somewhere deep down Jeno knows that this story is actually only about him.” TW: none 
See other members’ stories here:
TBA
Author’s note: When I saw this particular moodboard, an idea sparked inside my mind. With a constant support from my friends, I finally finished the first half of the story that I am presenting to you now. Thank you for your love and kindness, this is for you, I hope you’ll like it :) Special thanks to Woo and Volpe for proofreading <3
Any feedback, reactions, comments, recommendations or ideas for other members’ stories are welcomed, I wouldn’t mind turning this into a series.
Tagging: @neocluefor , @your-local--trashcan​  Let me know if you want to be added!
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A dark, dim evening, the sun had just set, bits of the dusky orange sky shone through the maze of power lines, chimneys, rooftops and posts. As Jeno was walking down an empty tucked away backstreet, he felt like he set foot on a hidden crossroad between two worlds. The feeling of the unknown and the unexplored sent shivers down his spine and he quickened his pace, as he did not wish to get held up at here any longer than necessary. He told his manager he just wanted to grab something warm to eat and stretch his legs a little, but the truth was… He wanted to be alone.
Not so long ago Jeno realised he has a very rare gift – a gift of invisibility. Wherever he’d go, no matter how many people surrounded him, he felt unseen and unnoticed. Jeno, we need you to voice over this ad. Jeno, we need you to shoot a dance video. Jeno, we need you to smile for the photos. No, no, do the thing with your eyes, yes. Oh, you’re still here? We don’t need anything now. Sorry, were you saying something? Listen I gotta go, talk to you later maybe? Everyone knows Jeno the idol, but how many people have heard of Jeno the person? How many people remember Jeno the friend from school, Jeno the boy next door? What’s the point of rushing back into dorms, if he’s going to feel all the same? At least at here I can hear my own thoughts for a change. Without having to fight to get a word in. Noone’s interested in what you have to say anyway, so be a man, Jeno, and go sulk somewhere where people don’t have to look at your sorry face. Hmm, jjamppong sounds nice.
He walked where his feet led him, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes staring blankly on the passing pavement tiles, red tiles, black tiles, grey tiles, shapes and figures, forms and contours. His mind unfocused, his thoughts scattered. Stop. Wait. Like in a dream, he saw himself standing in front of a narrow door, black paint flaking away, a few variously shaped and randomly placed yellow window panes, a big brass handle waiting to be pulled. He noticed a little oval plaque in his field of vision and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a bookshop. A minute passed, maybe ten, maybe an hour. Jeno glanced around, scratching his head. „Uh… good evening!“ He bowed his head a little, even though he didn’t see anyone at the counter. Nevertheless, he felt like he’s being watched, scrutinized, evaluated. Something was staring at him and Jeno suddenly wished that he was invisible again. He turned his head to where he felt the uncomfortable feeling coming from and there it was - behind the desk, on the left side of the wall, squished between large overflowing bookcases, right next to a tall wooden coat-stand shaped like an old tree - a red door with a big round opened eye painted on it. The door was opened, just a few centimetres, and a faint piano music was coming from inside. Come in, if you dare.
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Jeno cleared his throat. Might as well look around properly, before they come back out. It’s no use of shouting or trying to make myself heard while that song is still playing. Listening to the melancholic but somewhat promising tune, Jeno inspected the surroundings. The shop looked messy and untidy. Chaos was the king of this castle, carelessness the lady of this household and together they ruled over their tiny land made of heaps of books, magazines and papers haphazardly placed on each other, shelves full of postcards and pictures, walls covered with ornaments and embellishments. Without a single tag or label in sight, Jeno wondered how could anyone find anything in here. He imagined the miscellaneous objects flowing into the shop and never leaving again. His gaze landed on a flashy pink paper packet filled with chewing gums in a no less showy wrapper on one of the shelves. Cool, a freebie! He reached for the gum, unpacked it and threw it into his mouth only to immediately pull a disgusted face as he chewed into the candy. It was like biting into a tasteless rubber. He spit it back out into the crumpled wrapper, put it next to the rest of the unused gums and set out to look for a trash can. He tripped on the thick dusty carpet and nearly stepped on something that looked rather expensive. This must be a bookshop with super rare prints and antiquities of some kind, this isn’t a place for me, I don’t fit in here, I should leave. And so, he stayed, bound in the place by a force of increasing curiosity he did not quite understand.
The piano stopped playing. Perfect, now’s my chance. „Hello? You, uh, have a customer! Heh…“ he stuttered awkwardly. Jeno wasn’t the type of a person who would enjoy excessive attention. If he ever tried to voice his opinion and was met with disregard or unconcern, he would simply think it was because his opinion on that matter was stupid and pointless. That’s why he was fairly used to this, not being heard. The only difference was that usually the rest of the members would fill the room with their chatter, so his lack of involvement in the group activities would normally go unnoticed. Unlike here, where the only sound was a deathly silence and Jeno’s thoughts humming in his head. He already spoke twice, what more does he need to do to be heard? Raise his voice? I just want to buy a book and get out of here. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak and right at that moment, the piano started playing again.
„Wha-, are you kidding me?“ he mumbled quietly under his breath. He looked around, confused, as if he was looking for understanding and sympathy from the other angry customers waiting for their turn to be served. He was the only one here and yet they’re making him wait. What is this, a private concert? Did they possibly saw him coming? Did they think that they’ll impress him with playing lowkey creepy piano melodies? This better not be a prank. He really wasn’t in the mood for fans and he didn’t think he could fake a smile at this hour. But he didn’t notice any hidden cameras, or any security cameras at all for that matter. He paced around the room nervously, scratching his neck. That’s it, I’m leaving. I don’t need that book anyway. I don’t need anything. If they don’t want me here, that’s okay, I’ll do just fine on my own.
He made a few strides towards the front door and then turned around again. „Hellooo! I came here to ask about books! Books that you happen to be selling!“ he raised his voice to the most pleading yet still polite level. The piano stopped again and Jeno gazed hopefully at the red door. He started walking back to the counter, slowly, carefully, as if he didn’t want to scare off the possibility of finally being served. He leaned on the desk, ready to place his order, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dark wooden surface. And just like that, as if it wanted to laugh directly into Jeno’s face, the piano started playing yet another tune, as impatient as Jeno himself. He pursed his lips and bent his head down. What the heck is this place, huh? A bookstore or a concert venue? At least serve some coffee and cake next time! He could just leave, never come back and forget about this place. But he really needed that book, he’s been looking for it so long, and he knew, he just knew, that this is the right place to look for it.
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„Alright!“ Jeno raised his head and pointed his index finger to the door, from which the music was coming. „I’m going in there! And I’m going to knock real loud, so you better not be scared or surprised or angry!“ I doubt they can hear me, he thought, as the music only grew louder and louder. Okay, here we go… He approached the door behind the counter, cautiously, and with his finger still pointing forwards he tapped on the red wood with his nail a few times, gingerly, like he was expecting the door to bite his hand, after a while he shook his head and finally made a few feeble knocks. He put his head inside with a quiet: „Excuse me…“ and peeped into the backroom. As soon as his foot touched the threshold, the music stopped playing and Jeno opened the door wide. The room was small and empty, safe for the piano by the wall. No other door, windows, cabinets, electrical appliances, boxes, merchandise, not even trash. Just four bare walls and the damn piano that he swore was playing just a mere second ago.
Jeno gulped, his hand on the doorknob, his feet midstep, his whole body ready to run in the even that something would go wrong. Now now, be brave. „Hello?“ his voice was dry, hoarse and small. Goosebumps covered his nape. „Oh! A customer!“ said a voice behind him. „JESUS CHRIST!“ Jeno nearly fell back onto the ground, as he made several hurried steps backwards, tripping over boxes, books and papers, knocking over the tree coat-stand which embraced him in its patulous grip, making him feel trapped. „Can I help you?“ said the voice and as Jeno’s ragged breath started to decelerate again and as the stars stopped dancing in front of his eyes, only now he saw a pale face hovering in the shadows of the dimly lit place. The initial shock was over and, gradually, the face grew hair, and connected with a torso, arms and legs. „I…“ Jeno stuttered as he finally untangled himself from the clasp of the coat-stand and stood straight, „came here to buy a book.“ He clutched his hand near his heart and blinked hard for a few times. Get a grip, man, get a grip. „Then you’re in the right place! After all, this is a bookstore and we store all kinds of books,“ smiled the face that no longer resembled a ghost, but a person. „I’ve been… waiting here for 15 minutes… at least.“ He tried to sound angry, but the truth was he wasn’t really sure of how much time he actually spent here. Oh my god. A thought just crossed his mind. What if they’re already closed and I didn’t notice and just practically barged in here demanding to be served?!?! He wiped his forehead and opened his mouth to apologize for his intrusion, but before he could say anything, the figure in front of him spoke again. „Gosh, but I didn’t hear or see you at all!“ said the person, covering their red coloured lips with their hand. Typical. „I… tried to…“ Jeno sighed. If they didn’t hear me, I should have made more effort I guess. „I apologize, I’m sorry for the inconvenience I caused you.“ He bowed his head slightly. The person, dressed in a silky black dress that rustled with every step, fixed their dark eyes on Jeno’s apologetic face and shook their head disappointedly. They passed Jeno, who hurriedly backed out of their way, bumping into the red door, oh, I could have sworn the eye was open. huh, weird, and started to rummage through the bookshelves and bookcases, opening drawers and cabinets, dancing around all the clutter with their feet bare, without knocking over a single thing.
„So?“ asked the bookstore owner, combing through a particularly overflowing drawer. „Sorry?“ „Which book are you looking for?“ Jeno resisted the urge to facepalm himself and laughed nervously instead. „Ah, the book…“ Wait, the book? What book? „Umm… the book,“ he frowned. Why is he here again? He finished his schedule, yes, and then got out of the car sooner than the rest, because…? Because I wanted to buy a book? Uhh… I guess? „Um, yeah, I was hoping to get a book about the history of-“ „Hey!“ the character was now standing in the middle of the room, their arms crossed in an irritated manner, the long red painted nails tapping angrily. „Did you eat my chewing gum?“ You IDIOT! And you even left the wrapper and the actual gum right there on the shelf, ugh! „I’m really sorry,“ Jeno started apologizing at the double, „it was just sitting there, I thought-“ „How did it taste?“ asked the owner. „Um…“ Jeno blinked a few times and frowned. „Weird,“ he answered, looking down at his feet, like he was feeling guilty and disappointed at the same time. „I remember really liking this brand and it surprised me that is tasted so… stale,“ he answered truthfully. The woman sighed. „No wonder. It’s a special edition, a collectible. It’s been sitting here for five years. And now it’s ruined.“ She took the whole package in her hands and shook her head, discontented. Who the hell stores a pack of freaking chewing gums? „I guess I should have treated it better, maybe all the exposure made it tasteless and bland.“ She clicked her tongue. „What a shame. But at least the wrapping is still colourful and pretty to look at.“ „Uh… yeah. Sorry about that.“ She put the gums back in place and resumed with the thorough scouring of the area. „What book did you say you wanted?“ Oh, yeah, the book. The damn book again. „Ah, yeah, um… I was interested in the techniques of-“ „How about this one?“ The woman, currently kneeling down by one of the huge bookcases, proposed. Jeno stared at her, eyes wide. She reached under the furniture, scrabbled and felt around a bit, until she triumphantly retrieved a blue hardback tome. Just what is going on in here?  
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Jeno watched the woman get up again, dust down her knees with a sigh, and then walk back behind the counter. She put the book on the desk and Jeno finally got a good look. The jacket was dusty, creased and torn in a few places. There were no pictures or details, it was just… blue. „Sound…” he read out loud. „Sound?“ Jeno raised an eyebrow. „That’s the title, yes.“ „It looks like a… heavy reading.“ He took the book in his hands to weigh it, it must be at least 500 pages long. „And pretty expensive.“ „It’s a poetry book, if you’re worried about the pages. And you don’t have to pay me for it.“ „Ah, I-… Wait, what? You don’t want me to pay you for it?“ „No, because I am not selling it to you. I’ll only let you borrow it. I‘ve always wanted to read it, because I am curious about the story, but… Do you sometimes get the feeling, be it a book, a movie, a photograph, or even a new pair of shoes, that it’s calling out to you? And when you finally get it, it’s like it’s your missing puzzle piece that you didn’t even know you need and it makes you complete?“ „I… guess, yeah.“ But not really, no. I can’t remember the last time I had this feeling. „Well, turns out, this book doesn’t complete me.“ She packed it in a plain paper bag and sealed it with a decorative tape. „But it might complete you,“ the owner said expectantly, sliding the wrapped book towards Jeno. He touched the paper and for a while, the room drowned in complete silence and time stopped, like a movie that froze and only showed a single frame. A frame with a book wrapped in a plain paper bag in the center, a woman’s hand with red fingernails touching it on the right, a man’s veined hand touching it on the left. Jeno’s hand.
He moved his fingers the tiniest bit and with them, the book. His body was immediately hit with a wave of electricity, the time unfroze and Jeno sighed heavily, leaning against the counter, like he just ran a hurdle race. „Will that be all?“ asked the owner with a kind smile. „I… can’t just take it.“ „You already did.“ She pointed towards the book Jeno was hugging anxiously, like he was afraid someone would steal it from him. He looked down, sighed again and finally stood up straight again. „I can’t take it for free. Even though I’m just borrowing it. How do you know I won’t run off with it?“ „Are you a thief?“ „No, but… I could be!“ „Well, in that case… How about you leave something behind then, like a pledge? I quite like the ring of yours,“ she pointed on Jeno’s hand, which he quickly pulled away. „That’s… it’s not anything fancy, and it’s bent, twisted… it’s worthless.“ „I’ll lend you a thing that’s worthless to me and you’ll lend me a thing that’s worthless to you. That’s a fair deal I’d say.“ She held out her hand. Jeno hesitated. What will the others think when he comes back without his friendship ring? They probably won’t even notice. „Alright…“ he took off the ring and rolled it around for a bit in his hand. Then, with a guilty feeling, he placed it in the owner’s hand, immediately regretting his decision. „Thank you for your purchase, have a nice day and see you whenever!“ he heard the woman say with a smile, pocketing the ring quickly. Then the door behind him shut with a loud bang and he was staying outside, with a book he didn’t know he needed and without a ring he didn’t remember wearing.
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malikmata · 3 years
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Notes from a Brown Boy - Kansas Diaries
*Author’s Note: Some people’s names have been changed to protect their identities
The rain was the first thing to greet me when I landed in Wichita. Overhead the gray clouds loomed, shadowing the farmland that yawned in the distance. Distance. At first glance, the city seemed like one long stretch of prairies and cracked parking lots, occasionally punctuated by billboards of grinning injury lawyers and lit up restaurant road signs.
If you spend enough time here amid the crumbling old buildings, watching the weeds sway in the vacant lots, you’ll feel the slow, inevitable creep of dread or something like it.
It’s easy to feel lonely here.
But, if you’re receptive enough, you’ll run into many friendly folks. Sometimes too friendly.
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For example: During my first week, I went to Freddy’s, a local fast food chain, and ordered a crispy chicken sandwich with fries. The cashier, a young woman with glasses and short blonde hair, suddenly started confessing her fear that her 8-year old chihuahua wouldn’t live a long life.
“I still think of him as a teenager,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “He’s a chihuahua. They live long lives.”
Out here, in the most middle-of-the-road cities, you sometimes get a chance to show an act of passing kindness. While waiting in line at one of the hip, new cafes downtown, a place called Milkfloat, a tall elderly gentleman recommended which coffee and pastry to get.
“My wife says this place has the best cold brew in town.” Afterwards, grabbing his pastry and coffee, he wished me a good day. Most folks here always do and you better hope it comes true. Because here, like elsewhere, a day is filled with ordinary heartbreaks.
I will simply call her “Tita.” She works as a tailor at a department store, the only tailor working there, hemming and tapering racks full of suit pants under fluorescent lights. The nature of the job requires exact measurements and a keen eye for detail. She works hard, often skips lunch, and comes home dead tired. Her husband is recovering from 4 broken ribs after a car repair job went awry. Nothing can be done but wait until he gets better.
They live in a languid suburb on Wichita’s east side, a street with few sidewalks but plenty of lawn.
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And noise. Plenty of noise. The neighborhood sits next to a car dealership. The skies overhead rumble continuously with airplanes and thunderstorms. Dogs bark at anyone who gets too close. A pickup truck blasts a corny country song as the cicadas and frogs belt out their lonely mating calls. Occasionally, a child’s laughter rises above it all.
Gossip is one of the great pastimes in towns like these. Even if you shut yourself up in your home, stories trickle in.
The neighbor across the street shot himself in the head.
The elderly couple that used to live next door got committed to a nursing home.
A fellow around the corner is on his third attempt to grow weed.
A college student starves himself morning to night so that he can save money for college.
Down the street, a kid lifts weights and punches the heavy bag hanging on his front porch.
Here, dumb luck seems, more so than in the big cities, the providence of God.
A man told me he got a job installing new carpets at a friend’s house. He was in desperate need of money, having sent most of it to his mother back home, who proceeded to gamble it away. When he ripped out the old carpet, he found a bundle of $10,000 dollars just lying there. His co-worker said, “We should split it.”
“No, no, we can’t take it.” the man said. He gave the money to his friend.
Sometime later, he went to the casino and couldn’t stop winning jackpot after jackpot. He brought home close to $16,000 in one night.
“So, if you do something good,” he told me, “God will remember that.”
Many people have come to live and die here, all of them wrapped up in the melancholic churning of faded ambitions and familial obligations.
Some people here have found something that returns them to the placidity they once felt in their youth. Sometimes that’s enough to keep them going.
For example:
I met Phil Uhlik, the namesake of the music store on E Douglas. He heard me playing an old Martin acoustic in one of the rooms. He shuffled in slightly hunched over, wearing a blue paisley shirt and brown shorts. He looked at the sunburst guitar in my hands and said, “It’s got a little beauty mark there.” He pointed to a small nick just above the sound hole. “All girls have beauty marks.” He pointed to his cheeks and smiled.
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Uhlik started this music store 51 years ago and enjoys every moment of it.
“When you go to work for Boeing, that’s work,” he said. “But this, it doesn’t feel like work.” He motioned to the instruments all around him.
“How’d you get started?” I asked.
“I started off playing one of these,” he said, taking one of the accordions off a nearby shelf. As he strapped it on, all the years seemed to disappear. With a big crooked-teeth grin, he breathed life into the old accordion, his hands dancing up and down the keys. The smile never left his face as we bid farewell to each other.
I wish everyone in this world were as lucky as Phil.
I’m always seeking indie bookstores when I travel. Eighth Day Books provides much needed shelter from the summer heat. The shop was built 33 years ago and used to be located about half a mile east, in Clifton Square Village. About 17 years ago they moved to their current location, a 1920 Dutch-style colonial house on the corner of E Douglas and N Erie. Its blue trimmed windows peek through the foliage of neighboring trees.
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When you walk in, you’ll see shelves of books on Christianity and Theological studies, most notably in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. I’ve never seen a bookshop with a section dedicated to Iconography.
Wichita, despite its size, feels like a small place. And with that cramped spaciousness, you’re likely to run into someone you may remember or who may remember you. Here I ran into my girlfriend’s 8th grade English teacher. A bald, bespectacled man with a gentle demeanor. After a bit of catching up, he said to us with a smile, “I hope all your dreams come true.”
The short story writer, Raymond Carver, once wrote: “Dreams… are what you wake up from.”
Wichita is a land that hypnotizes you; it makes you dream, dream of something beyond the miles of strip malls and airplane factories, beyond the shocks of wheat and windswept plains, beyond the doldrums and ennui. But it also shakes you awake, reminds you that you’re in it, that you better stop dreaming.
I’m not the religious sort anymore, having survived the regime laid down by my Catholic parents. But there is something enthralling, maybe even inspirational, when I look at the rows of beautifully painted portraits of saints and martyrs. Such solemn faces surrounded by golden halos. According to the Eastern Orthodox tradition, such paintings transcend art; they’re supposed to be windows through which you can glimpse the divine. They remind me of my grandparents with their judging eyes and moral seriousness.
My book haul for the day:
Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata
The Diary of Anne Frank
Earthly Signs: Moscow Diaries by Marina Tsvetaeva
Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector
In that last book, I found this lovely little passage:
…”in the Revolution, as always, the weight of everyday life falls on women: previously--in sheaves, now in sacks. Everyday life is a sack with holes. And you carry it anyway.”
From Earthly Signs, P. 40
According to the 2019 United States census bureau, 15.9% of Wichita's population lives below the poverty line. That’s higher than the state average, which hovers around 11.4%. That’s not the lowest nor is it the highest in the country. As befitting its location, Kansas is right in the middle.
The minimum wage in Kansas is still $7.25 despite efforts to increase it to $15. When Covid-19 hit, city and service workers bore the brunt of the impact. You can keep all your empty slogans like  “We Love Our Frontline Workers.” Congratulate me all you want for my hard work but where’s my pay?
When you see that business here has returned to normal--people freely walking around without masks, no longer socially distancing--it still feels all too strange; we spent an entire year under lockdown. There’s still a pandemic by the way.
Loved ones fell ill, died alone, hooked up to ventilators in closed off hospital rooms. I believe every interaction now carries the weight of all those deaths. My family, like so many others, didn’t escape unscathed from the pandemic. My grandpa, Amang, caught Covid. Since he was an elderly citizen (and suffering from emphysema to boot), he was among those considered most at risk. We all feared the worst. Somehow he survived. The doctors called him a “trailblazer.”
Now, with businesses back to 100% capacity, I’m afraid that, just like the 1918 Flu epidemic, the past will fade like a nightmare upon waking. But it was so much more than that; it was an avoidable tragedy.
If you want to know what this pandemic has done to people and their livelihoods, is still doing to them, take a ride through downtown.
Things were already going bad before Covid hit. Back in 2004, the writer Thomas Frank wrote,
“There were so many closed shops in Wichita… that you could drive for blocks without ever leaving their empty parking lots, running parallel to the city streets past the shut-down sporting goods stores and toy stores and farm implement stores.”
What’s the Matter with Kansas: How Conservatives Won the Heart of America, P. 75
What led to all this blight? Frank attributes the decline to:
“the conservatives’ beloved free market capitalism, a system that, at its most unrestrained, has little use for smalltown merchants or the agricultural system that supported the small towns in the first place.”
-P. 79
The same story happens in a lot of places. A megacorporation keeps eating everything around it and leaves nothing else at the table.
The people are left hurting, a pit in their stomachs, and some asshole somewhere profits off of it.
While at the DMV, I overheard this:
“You have a good day now,” the security guard said.
“I’ll try my best,” a woman said.
My girlfriend heard them too and laughed.
“You really do have to try your best in order to have a good day here.”
At some point, we hit the town with a couple friends: Monica, and her boyfriend Will. Both are musicians trying to carve out their niche in a place that, on the surface, seems apathetic to creative pursuits.
It’s impossible to not be captured by their energy. As soon as we walk into their house, Monica, with her dark blonde hair draped over her shoulders, reached in for a hug. Will, a tall and bearded fellow with a bear-like presence, also went in for the hug.
“Ready to experience some Wichita nightlife?” Monica asked.
What is the nightlife here like? A group of high school punks wanted to fight us over a couple movie theater seats. Bored kids play rounds of “Chinese Fire Drill” at stop lights. I heard a nazi biker gang rolled into town at some point during my stay. Regular things like that.
At a low-key bar downtown called Luckys, I met a guy named Cory. He told me how he met a 15 year old kid loitering here, looking lost and forlorn.
“I don’t know what kind of advice I can give you but I’ll do the best I can,” Cory said.
This is the spirit I’ve often come across during my stay: A sort of slightly intrusive compassion. For a cynical Californian like me, the behavior seems a little strange, maybe even a little annoying. But I’ve come to appreciate the candor of it.
“Guaranteed we’ll know half the people here,” Will said.
Right away, he shook hands with the bartender—a high school friend of his—and asked him how his band was doing. Afterwards, we sat down and talked. Talking, after a year of pandemic lockdown, has become a lost art to me. But a little alcohol loosened the lips and suddenly I talked as though I’d known these people my whole life.
Will sipped his whisky on the rocks and told me:
“If everything in this world is meant to break down eventually, then any act of creation becomes an act of defiance.”
It may sound naive but to me, it’s true. I think about the words of the writer, John Berger:
Compassion defies the laws of necessity. To forget yourself and identify with a stranger has a power that defies the supposed natural order of things.
--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 179
Making art has to be, in some way, a compassion act, because it involves letting the environment and the people you meet speak for themselves, allowing a collaboration.
“When a painting is lifeless it is the result of the painter not having the nerve to get close enough for a collaboration to start… Every authentic painting demonstrates a collaboration.”
--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 16
You need to open yourself up, feel what someone is saying behind their words, and hopefully, feel what they feel.
Art, like Compassion, is defiant.
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Among the 4 or so Asian markets here, you can find all the ingredients you need to cook up something good. During my first week, I stopped at a place called Grace Market. Like a lot of small Asian markets, it’s family run. A father from Taiwan. A mother from Korea. The son usually helps out when he can. Today (June 23), On this warm Wednesday morning, the son is manning the cash register.
“You’re from California? I’m from there too,” he said.
“Where at?” I asked.
“Sacramento. How about you? So Cal?”
“Nah, Bay Area.”
“Funny. That’s where my parents met.”
“Small world.”
On a different day, we met the father, a jovial man who never fails to say hi when you walk in. He came here over a couple decades ago from California, doing work for the US Army in Garden City. Once his service was over, he decided to stay in Kansas.
“I think you know why,” he said.
More and more young folks these days are leaving California. The high cost of living is presumably what’s driving this exodus. I told him I was also thinking of leaving the Golden State, as much as I love the place.
“Well, a town like this has a lot of potential if you want to save money,” he said. “If I tried to start this business in California, I don’t think I could’ve done it.”
The summer heat can, with the suddenness of a lightning flash, give way to thunderous storms. Speaking as someone from California, whose home has gone through excruciating periods of drought and wildfire, these nightly downpours are a startling yet relaxing sight.
The distant boom of thunder in the distance reminds you of how much of our lives depend on the weather, how small we are in comparison, how we are never separate from the goings-on of nature. The rain doesn’t come down lightly here. At night, it smacks and drums against the window pane with all the force of an animal trying to get inside.
But I don’t find myself frightened by it so much as awed by the combined power of wind and rain colliding against our rickety old house.
Kansas lies in the Great Plains, where layers of cool and warm air often combine into a low-level jet stream. Unimpeded by any natural obstacles on the wide flat plains, the wind roars across the expanse. Thunder growls over the prairie. And lightning flashes on the horizon in a fearsome red tinge.
The storm rages throughout the night, the only source of light in an ocean-sized plain.
“In general, the gods of the Wichita are spoken of as "dreams," and they are divided into four groups: Dreams-that-are-Above (Itskasanakatadiwaha), or, as the Skidi would say, the heavenly gods; and (2) Dreams-down-Here (Howwitsnetskasade), which, according to the Skidi terminology, are the earthly gods. The latter "dreams" in turn are divided into two groups: Dreams-living-in-Water (Itska-sanidwaha), and the Dreams-closest-to-Man (Tedetskasade)”
From The Mythology of the Wichita, P. 33
If you go downtown, you’ll see a sculpture called “The Keeper of the Plains.”
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It’s almost 9 o’ clock when I get there, so large crowds have gathered to watch the ring of fire lit around its perimeter.
The statue was designed by indigenous artist and craftsman, Blackbear Bosin. Born in Cyril, Oklahoma, but living much of his adult life in Wichita, Kansas, Bosin was of Comanche and Kiowa descent and almost entirely self-taught as an artist.
When you come upon the Keeper of the Plains, standing tall on the fork of the Arkansas and Little Arkansas Rivers, you can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and sadness. It’s a striking statue, especially when set against the beautiful orange and lavender hues of the setting sun. But monuments like these end up reminding you of the Wichita peoples who were killed, displaced, driven from their land, and left to die in reservations, forgotten. The tribes that once lived here along the southern plains still show traces of their culture but now, you’ll see it mostly as a memory in a museum or as art hanging on the walls of a library.
I learned from a video by the Wichita Eagle that the last speaker of the Wichita language, Doris Jean Lamar, died back in 2016. It must be indescribably lonely to be the last speaker of a language. There is no one to have a conversation with, no one to whom you can confess your hopes or your regrets. But in the video, Lamar, even knowing that she is the last speaker, expresses hope that future generations will know what the language sounded like.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ScPkN_xGRI
Is forgiveness even possible when injustices are still committed today against native peoples everywhere?
Not enough can be said about the skies here, which seem at times so brilliantly marbled with peach and lavender colors that you begin to walk with your head perpetually craned upwards.
It’s this aspect, the overwhelming sense of the sublime, that will probably stay with me long after I’ve left Kansas.
I think again about the nature of dreams. It isn’t such a sin to dream about things, about things that haven’t happened yet, and about things that have happened. To quit dreaming seems too cynical, like admitting from the outset that everything is screwed, that you should stop trying.
During my stay here, I’ve met many people who aren’t so irony poisoned yet, people who are achingly sincere and kind. They haven’t stopped trying. There isn’t much room for cynicism here. I appreciate that a lot.
Farewell to you, Kansas, you and your clumps of cumulus and vast fields of cows and grass. I’ll see you again.
Check out Will’s music! It’s gloomy, melancholy, and LOUD!: https://teamtremolo.bandcamp.com/album/intruder
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agir1ukn0w · 4 years
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Ever heard of Bookshop.org?
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Greetings loves! I wanted to let you all know that if you are searching for a website that sells books and isn’t Amazon, you can look no further than Bookshop.org! Visiting this wonderful website is a great way to not only support authors, but also local book stores nation-wide. And you shouldn’t just take my word for it. Go to Bookshop.org right now and help support independent book stores during this difficult time.
But wait, there’s more! Not only do I personally love this website, but I am also a Bookshop Affiliate, which means I run a virtual “shop” where you can peruse my lists of books that are available on Bookshop.org. And if you purchase any books through my Affiliate shop, SallyIsABookLover, I will earn a 10% commission from the purchase! (Because let’s be honest, these are real shitty times and most of us are looking for ways to make a quick buck to survive, so why not do it selling something you love more than life itself?) So if you’re at all interested in that, and want to see what I’ve got on my shelves, just click the link below and peruse to your heart’s content:
https://bookshop.org/shop/sallyisabooklover
So next time you think about buying a book on Amazon, DON’T! Bookshop.org has all the books you could ever want and you can purchase as many as you like without feeling lazy or morally compromised. Believe me, I know it’s hard these days not to go straight to Amazon for what you need, but consider that there are other, better places out there on the Interwebs that have the best interests of struggling businesses at heart, and you can start by helping Bookshop.org support them. Because who wants to live in a world where quaint, dimly-lit little bookshops on corner streets don’t exist? Make it so that indie book shop employees everywhere don’t have to risk their health every day just to keep their businesses running and check out Bookshop.org right now!
And here are some extra sources that sing Bookshop.org’s praises way better than I can:
https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/books/story/2020-04-29/coronavirus-bookshop-org-earns-1-million
https://www.forbes.com/sites/joanverdon/2020/02/14/advocate-for-local-bookstores-takes-aim-against-amazon-with-new-website/#6ef9b1a13407
https://www.biblio.com/blog/2020/05/new-find-used-books-from-biblio-on-bookshop-org/#
https://lithub.com/bookshop-org-to-share-30-percent-of-each-purchase-with-bookstores-impacted-by-coronavirus-shutdowns/
https://lithub.com/bookshop-org-hits-1-million-raised-for-independent-bookstores/
https://www.facebook.com/jhbooktrader/posts/bookshoporg-is-an-online-bookstore-it-ships-books-from-a-vendor-ingram-to-your-d/2856896054398582/
https://www.uschamber.com/co/good-company/the-leap/bookshop-org-helps-booksellers-during-covid-19
https://bookstr.com/article/amid-pandemic-libro-fm-and-bookshop-org-sales-skyrocket/
https://read.ilovehalloween.net/time-to-ditch-amazon-for-buying-books-bookshop-is-the-website-to-use-to-support-small-booksellers
https://www.kirkusreviews.com/news-and-features/articles/bookshop-raises-over-one-million-for-indies/
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bookish-fan-things · 4 years
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The Captive Kingdom Launch Party HIGHLIGHTS
Jen has a dog that won't play fetch and a cat that hallucinates
The Kings English Bookstore is home to many authors in Utah and it has been hit hard by Covid-19. She asks for us to support them or your local indie bookstore!!!
November 14, there is going to be an author extravaganza to support TKE Bookstore
Shortly after the False Prince came out, she was still a very new author, she got a tweet from R.L. Stine, author of Goosebumps saying how much he loved TFP. She was so excited and she wanted to thank him personally but didn't know his name, and he had called her Jennifer so she didn't want to say Mr. Stine.So she ended up just saying, thanks!
Book 5 is due to her editor Monday (October 5, 2020) and she said she would be finishing this (the launch) then getting right back to it!
She showed her open project folders (there are a LOT)
Working on a World War 1 story and she showed history books she is reading such as History of the World War, A World Undone, and Weird War One.
One of her new works is about a kid with no memory, a magic sharpie, and a dice game called Boggle that sometimes talks to him and he sees a message in the dice: “they know ur here go”
Q&A!!!
Disney, book to movie adaptation possibilities? She'd be fine with it if they asked. She wants it to be made right. She wants someone who comes to at it with a fan’s perspective.
Paramount Pictures had optioned the rights to the False Prince, what happened? When you have a contract, every six months they have to decide whether to extend, cancel, or make the movie. As her six months was coming up, they fired their CEO, so everything evaporated.
How does it affect you emotionally when one of your characters goes through something traumatic or extremely challenging? She has a background in theatre and she comes to writing from a theatrical perspective. It plays out in her head like it's on stage so she becomes every character. She goes through everything with her characters, she feels it, she dreads it, she feels awful, but she's learned that “Most of us are in this stasis of being where we are just comfortable being exactly who we are and when something hard happens to us, even if we hate it, it forces us to grow. The hard thing creates heroes. So my characters start out believing they are just ordinary people, but when I do the hard things, my characters become very heroic characters. I do hard things to them because I love watching them grow.” I had to include this quote because it was so great
Favorite background character who you think gets overlooked a lot? Kerwyn, he is one of the very few stable things in the lives of the main characters, he is just good, strong, and loyal. Amarinda, she’s ok with being overlooked but she is so strong and intelligent.
Characters based on yourself? Not really, she doesn't think she is interesting enough to write about, but Sage, like her, is left handed, climbs, and has her sense of humor. She relates closely to the main character from the Scourge, Ani, and sees a lot of herself in her, but didn't base Ani on herself, they just have a lot in common.
Jen discussed how she plots out her books and how many drafts she goes through: she's got to know the twist so she can layout the hints. She shows an example of a chart of how much each character and what the reader knows. She rewrites a lot and feels it come together. First rewrite is fixing major plot issues. Second, logic. Dialogue. Description. Word choice. Could be 10-15 drafts before her editor sees it, who sees things Jen missed.
Have your characters ever taken you by surprise (with twists)? The ending of Mark of the Thief book one, she didn't expect, so she had to make some changes. Usually on top of it, and has something called the Rule of Five. Has a general idea, and makes herself come up with five possible ways the idea could play out. 1, usually pretty predictable. 5, usually really weird. 2, 3, and 4 she really gets creative. “Limitations are the mother of creativity.”
How she gets her character names: baby name books and websites (Imogen and Tobias). Symbolic, Sage (wise, a way for him to stick it to his dad and say he has wisdom), Connor (con man), Jaron (teenage boy she knew who was just a great person and outstanding kid, and if we had royalty in our country he would be a prince). Put sounds together, places, Amarinda, Mott, Roden, Kerwyn. (She also gave an example for writers to use: UTAH, UTAR, TUTAR, TOTAR, TOTARA, city of Totara!!)
She explained how she does her fantasy world building and it is mainly based on what she will need in the plot (ie Carthya is landlocked, mountains to the north, waterways that would be needed, it is resource wealthy making it desirable, etc)
Culture and religion in world building: how many gods or none? saints and devils! causing good and bad things in your life. Sage feels like he is constantly being harassed by the devils. It became a social thing in the world.
Would she want to live there [in Carthya]? Sometimes, but not in the last book that she is editing now!! *wink*
Where's fink's rat? Fink’s rat is on the castle grounds. She said this. It's canon. Fink’s. Rat. Is. In. The. Castle. (See @thedevilsofcarthya for full transcript of Jen discussing this)
TCK trailer: created by her family, particularly her son, Chase, and the voiceover was her son in law. Chase wanted to do something different and take a risk.
youtube
Your career as an author? When she started writing she knew nothing and nobody just had a manuscript that was ‘awful’ and will be buried with her. (I personally would read ANYTHING she wrote). She submitted her second one to “every agent with a pulse” and everyone said no. She wrote a new one, they said no. Fourth manuscript, she felt ready to break in, Apprentice to a Madman, she thought it was the best thing ever, submitted it and got a rejection scribble, not a letter, worked on it and kept getting rejected. One publisher had rep for taking everybody so she sent in hers. A couple months later, on her birthday, she got a call from a friend that they got an acceptance letter from the same publisher as she had submitted hers, got her own… rejected…She thought a lot about it and decided to erase everything she thought she knew about publishing and once she had a new idea, that manuscript got her agent and first publisher. That letter on her birthday was the last rejection letter she received. “Remember you can start from nowhere and find success.”
When asked for descriptions of the characters so an artist can draw them, she said, they look like how you envision them, there is no ‘right’. (Shows fanart from the competition that is on her blog!)
TCK art print was created by her niece, Ireland. It is her concept of the characters.
Writing during covid and quarantine? She's a strong believer that when God closes a door, he opens a window. She misses the opportunities to be in schools and bookshops. Just discovered a new WW2 true story she is researching. Various stories at different stages. Very excited for stories she has created because of Covid. “We will get through this, we will, and we're going to be stronger at the end because remember, when we go through hard things we get stronger."
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rokutouxei · 3 years
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the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]
The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!
[ masterpost for all chapters ] 
CHAPTER 22 OF 22 [ END ]
But the world is strange and endings are not truly endings no matter how the stars might wish it so.
-"The Starless Sea", Erin Morgenstern
--
Like a reversal of fate, everything else goes according to plan afterwards: much to Theo’s delight.
After the expectedly but also overwhelmingly successful two-week long exhibit at the gallery, Vincent—after years of indecision—finalizes his documents and portfolio, submits a stack of photos and a long, written document detailing the exhibit to the graduation approval panel. The following month is the longest of the brothers’ lives, but the committee approves Vincent’s submission, and a few weeks later he’s finally marching down the aisle to claim his diploma. (It was a beautiful affair, Theo would always say about it, but in truth he was unable to see anything more than a few smudges of color, due to how hard he was crying. Thank god for photographs.)
Freshly-graduated Vincent takes on various jobs while submitting to various institutions both locally and abroad, and finally persuades Theo to finish his bachelor’s degree, promising that he’ll always be facing forward into the future. The following semester, Theo enrolls for a final time at the university, taking his last units to write up his thesis.
Theo doesn’t quit his job at the bookshop, but eventually as things get busier he can only take so many hours until he’s barely there at all. They get a new employee named William—Theo doesn’t really like him. Arthur gives a little show of crying when Theo reveals he can only work weekends now, treats him to dinner and some alcohol at the end of it, so maybe it isn’t that bad. Theo, of course, still forwards all his book requests to the bookstore, and, much to his disgust, continues to spend Saturdays or Sundays (or both, if he’s unlucky) as “quality time” with Arthur, as the latter has called it. It’s not much, but more than enough for his “begrudging” best friend.
As Theo is working on his thesis, Vincent finally receives an offer for apprenticeship at a rather renowned fine arts gallery a few hours away, and Theo feels all his dreams are coming true.
And it’s time to get a new one.
He’s finishing a degree, bracing himself to enter a field he’s always long wanted to be in, to help support his brother but also to begin the long journey of a little hope he’d long kept in his heart, the one he hadn’t ever dared to say, fearing he wasn’t good enough for it—of being the director of a museum.
He might even be able to take a master’s on the side, if he finds a company that’s willing to get him trained both on the company floor and in an institution—and his grades and a few recommendation letters will get him there, he’s damn sure.
And next to him, or well, miles away, his brother is getting steadier and steadier on his feet, near-sprint towards a future with art he’s always dreamt of as well, this time with no one putting him down. Theo’s going to make sure that stays the same for all the years to come, too.
It feels like the beginning of everything good, and Theo walks around the town with a smile on his face.
All that’s left to do is wait.
He has faith that everything will settle into their proper places, like they always have.
And they do, because just as she always does, it’s 2:00pm on a Sunday, and she comes, in a long, plain cream coat over a sweater, a short plaid skirt over dark leggings, high black boots, because it’s fall now, starting to become cold. She’s looking around her with stars in her eyes, like she hasn’t been here in a long time. And she hasn’t.
Theo spots her first, and then, like she feels the touch of his eyes on her skin, she turns to him. Her face brightens with a grin that makes Theo’s heart stop.
And then she runs with a speed unexpected for the shoes she’s wearing. Theo braces himself as she jumps into his arms, but they still topple towards the ground.
THUNK!
“Oh my god, I could have killed you!” she says, but every word is stuck in between fits of laughter. Curls of hair hang over the sides of her face as she pulls herself up on the palms of her hands and her knees. Guiltless, as she always is.
Theo crinkles his nose, raises a hand to brush off the curtain of hair. “You have an accent,” he says. It’s not derisive, not an insult, just an observation, the same way he’d say something about a work of art.
And, just because she doesn’t run out of ways to take his breath away, she laughs and presses a kiss on his lips, her mouth warm, his face suddenly hot. She smells like strawberries and sour things and home.
She pulls away and breathes against his trembling lips, “I missed you so much.”
“Talk’s for later,” he half-growls, pulling himself up into a seated position before taking her lips in his once more—his fingers in her hair, her hand on his shoulder, seated on his lap. The kiss doesn’t deepen like she expects it to: instead it’s just a series of small kisses exchanged between the two of them, passed back and forth to each other like a shared breath. His hand squeezes her waist and—
“GET A ROOM!” someone shouts from across the street, followed by a burst of laughter, random onlookers to a long-awaited reunion.
“God, I sure miss being home,” she chuckles, making light of the call-out, chewing on her lower lip in embarrassment, turning her eyes away from him.
The word home hangs heavy between the both; but a good kind of heavy.
But for now, he’s not having that, not when they’ve been waiting for this for the longest time; he reaches out to cup her cheek in his hand, only to feel the damp trail of a tear slipping down.
It’s his turn to snort, rubbing a thumb up underneath her eye. “Don’t cry, liefje.”
She pouts. “…‘I missed you too, baby,’” she says mockingly, but wipes the tears that fall out with the back of her hand anyway. The two of them stare at each other for a long moment, like confirming each other’s existence, like making sure the other is really there.
Then, she breaks the silence with a laugh, like she always does.
His heart feels more than just full. It’s always more than with her around.
“I kept all your letters,” she says softly.
“And I kept all your postcards.”
That makes her laugh. A sound he wishes he could listen to forever. “Ah, we sound like some kind of rom-com protagonists. So silly.”
“That’s not so bad though,” Theo says, taking her hand in his the way he’s always wanted to but has always been afraid to do.
“No,” she says, leaning against his warmth. Pressing their foreheads together. “Not at all.”
 --
And because her friend’s been bugging her throughout her entire first year at the university while she was gone, said friend decides to get back at her by holding a little surprise party to match the little surprise arrival she had made for Theo. She, Theo, her friend, Dazai, Arthur, and a shifty-feeling Isaac—she will have to figure out the details for that later—end up having dinner together at a place that opened while she was gone, talking about all that she’d missed, stories that may as well have already been told but feel different when they’re told face-to-face.
They all go home flushed, half with drunk and half with joy. She hasn’t really checked into her apartment complex quite yet, but Theo shoots down her friend’s offer for her to be driven back to the city in exchange for getting her to sleep at his place. The van Gogh residence has been home to one for quite a bit now and Theo… well, he’d like some company.
The two of them are walking home side by side, swaying a little as they pass through flickering streetlights. There is so much to talk about, to catch up on, so many things hidden in between the lines of letters and messages that are better sorted out in person, and Theo feels each question rising up his throat clawing their way out.
Was coming back worth it?
Won’t you regret it?
Did you find what you were looking for out there?
But they have time—they have so much time now, so instead, he settles for the gentle quiet they’ve always known each other for. Instead, he bumps the back of her hand with his, and because everything is more than with her, she takes it as an opportunity to intertwine their fingers together.
There’s mischief in her voice.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Say ‘I love you.’”
Theo stops in his tracks. “What?”
The shock makes her laugh. Pulling at his hand to get him to start walking again, she explains, “You’ve never told me you loved me, you know.”
“I have.”
“Not in person!” she argues. “Not even in call. You wrote it, but that’s different.”
Theo can feel the words on his tongue already anyway, but he continues to prolong the inevitable. “What’s all this all of a sudden?”
“Nothing! I just haven’t heard it, and well, I wanted to hear it? Please?”
“No.”
“C’mon, you’re not fair. Tell me.”
“No,” he says, pulling her by her hand and pressing a kiss on the back of it. Chaste, and yet so deep with hunger it makes her knees wobble just a bit. “I’ll tell you later.”
She flushes a deep red.
--
After all this, their friends will not stop joking about how they’ve had one of the most intense courtships in the history of their friend group—and likely their university—but the two of them both rigorously deny that, saying that there are likely to be more complicated ones they just don’t know. Besides, at this point, it doesn’t really matter how long it had taken them to get here—
Just that they had gotten here.
And what a good story that journey was.
Just fit for a literature major.
But stories are stories because they flow into each other, and so even if that chapter has ended, that just means another one has begun and—there is so much plot to be done. She and Theo have a talk about their relationship—this time in person, and this time for real—somewhere in between their last semesters in university. Their friends are, well, still their friends, ever so patient even now that they’re together, especially after all that happened before they got to this. And the future is wide and the world is out there waiting and—
They can’t wait to see it together.
Like flower facing upward to the sun daring itself to see what the world has for it out there before deciding it wants to stay, deciding to grow its roots, deciding…
Right here is okay.
Like blossoming in reverse.
When she and Theo move in together to their own little apartment, away from the university, long after shared books at the rooftop of the physics department and Dragon’s Hoard and Little Owl, Vincent sends to them a moving-in gift: a series of three canvases, a triptych depicting the two of them at that most vulnerable part of their romance. The start of the most beautiful part of it. On the opposite panels, she and Theo; sitting in front of their respective windows, looking out at different cities, different times of the day. And in the middle, a humble little paper airplane made of envelopes, with their blue and red marking, the stamps, the smudged ink, crossing the landscape without care for distance.
They hang the paintings in their living room, above the sofa, the first thing they see when they enter their little shared home.
Just another one of many shared things that will continue to grow.
And today, they’re not yet done unpacking and they’ve only gotten out two sets of dinnerware just enough to be able to eat—but there is so much time. So it’s two in the afternoon on a Sunday, music playing lowly from cheap Bluetooth speakers, and their next-door neighbors are hammering something in the wall but it is still beautiful. Standing in the middle of the living room on the carpet, the TV and the books still in their neatly labeled boxes stacked against the wall—they hold each other close to the slow beat of the music.
Sure, they may have been idiots about this but—they have the rest of their lives to make up for lost time
And so Theo presses his forehead against hers, smiling when the gesture makes her laugh. Nothing makes him feel as warm as she does, and no metaphor, no literary reference will be able to truly put into words how he feels about having found her at just the right moment.
How they crossed that near-miss.
And how lucky he is to get to keep her.
Arm wrapped reverently around the small of her back, one hand on her waist, the other with its fingers interlocked with hers—he presses a small kiss on her knuckles, eyes sliding shut. Everything goes dark: the music shushes into silence, the room collapses, the only thing is him, and her, and the long eternity.
“…And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart,” he whispers, quoting a poem from a poet from a book from a bookstore from what seems like a million years ago, sighing when she squeezes his shoulder, “I carry your heart—”
Tilts his head upward with her finger, oh, she has him wrapped around her finger, always has.
He looks back at her and her heart dips into the deep blue of his eyes.
She kisses the words onto his lips, “I carry it in my heart.”
---------
thank you for reading this! longer A/N on ao3!!
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Anonymous asked: I’m taking a gap year before I go up to Cambridge to study History and I am a big fan of your blog. I am in awe of your posts and your intellectual musings that really makes me wonder if I’m smart enough to succeed in Cambridge. I want to know what book shops did you spend time in when you were a student. Do you still find time to go to the English book shops in Paris now that you are busy in the real world of having a demanding career? Can you recommend some?
Congratulations on getting into Cambridge to read History. That’s an achievement in itself. I understand the History department has consistently rated as one of the best in the world in the global university rankings so it’s an achievement. Perhaps in time you can become the next Tom Holland or William Dalrymple?!
I spent many spare hours browsing through second hand book shops as a student (gosh! It feels like a life time ago now!). When I wasn’t drowning in books in my college library trying to stave off an essay crisis I was seeking sanctuary in mostly second hand book shops dotted around the city.
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I obviously wouldn’t count the Cambridge University Press bookstore a second hand book store but I did go in often because it had frequent second hand book sales and it was always exciting what new specialist books were coming off the press written by our professors (buy their tomes for brownie points obviously and use it as a coffee coaster). It’s claimed that the CUP book shop is the oldest in Britain but I’m confused. I know Cambridge University Press is the oldest publishing house in the world but where the bookshop stands it used to be called Bowes & Bowes which claimed to be the oldest book shop since 1581. They got bought out at some stage and somehow CUP took over the shop. So make what you will of it.
Heffers - opposite Trinity College - was another book shop I would go to a lot. Again, not a second hand book shop but they carried the most wide ranging of books of all interests and served as an alternative to Waterstones, the big high street book store. I thought I was supporting a local book shop (however big it was in Cambridge) when I found out years later that it was actually owned by Blackwell’s (the same giant bookseller Blackwell’s in Oxford). Hmmm.
In my time, the Cambridge Market Place on certain days had second hand book stalls set up alongside all the colourful fruit and vegetable stalls. A browse through those stalls was never a wasted exercise. I even met one of my boyfriends whilst browsing there - we both fought over the same book we spied from afar (he put his fingers on it first but I was quicker to snatch it away before he put his palm down). I felt bad for him so I let him buy me tea at the Copper Kettle, opposite King’s College.
During my time in Cambridge I know some friends would go to the Sarah Keys the Haunted Bookshop in St. Edward’s Passage (so named because of the two ghosts which are rumoured to reside on its premises.) It was mostly filled with vintage children stories and had a tiny couple of tables for coffee. I found it claustrophobic and the coffee was ghastly. I avoided it because it really didn’t have any good books at all. Students went because it’s the closest it got them to some Brideshead Revisited fantasy of musty smelling books. 
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My most frequent haunt was actually also in St. Edward’s Passage was G. David. This independent bookshop sells antique, secondhand, remaindered books, maps and prints dating back to the late 1800s. For over three centuries the G. David bookshop has been run by the founder's family. I spent much of my student money in there. To this day whenever I go back to Cambridge to see friends (some are now teaching Dons in the university or work in the so-called high-tech ‘Silicon Fen’ community) I always make a point to go there for a quick browse. I always buy something there, usually a gift for someone but always some gem for my growing book collection. The shop is small but the service is intimate and homely. It’s a paradise for Shakespeare, Classics, and History lovers.
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Later when I went over to study at Oxford, I would inevitably end up going into the legendary Blackwell’s on Broad Street. You needed to wear a comfy pair of sneakers if you ever venture into the Norris Room as it’s the largest single room selling books according to the world in the Guinness Book of Records. With about 10,000 square feet and three miles of shelving to browse through, don’t ever say they don’t have the book you’re looking for.
Another bookshop I would go to a lot was Last Bookshop which was tucked away in the Jericho area of Oxford. They always had these ‘two books for 5 pound’ deals which was great if your budget was tight (as it always is for impoverished students). The coffee area was cute and the coffee was bearable.
Then there was St. Philip’s Books on St. Aldates, opposite Christ Church Gardens. They specialised in rare and secondhand books in the the broad humanities from theology, history, literature, philosophy, art, classics and antiquarian books. If you were into C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein or any kind of Christian theology and patristics then this was the place to go to.
In London where I used to live I tried to be as local as possible given how big London is and also a preference for independent ones (be they second hand or antiquarian). There are a mecca of bookshops and second hand book stores scattered around London and so I’m always pleasantly thrilled when I stumble upon a new discovery by accident or word of mouth. 
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My absolute favourite that I used to frequent a lot - and I still do when I go back to London - is John Sandoe Books in Chelsea. It’s tucked away in a quiet side street around the corner of Sloane Square. Going inside feels like rummaging through some fusty old Professor’s home with low ceilings. It’s actually made of up three small 18th Century Regency houses somehow tacked on together so the creaky floor boards seem uneven as you wander around. Although it’s a general independent bookshop, the vast majority of its books range from history, classics, poetry, and biographies. It has an enviable Everyman collection to die for and you can also get lucky buying first editions. My grandfather used to know John Sandoe, who started the business 60 years ago after he left a career in the City to try his hand at bookselling much to the disapproval of his father. Sandoe sold the business to two ex-colleagues and a loyal customer in 1989 and he died in 2007 after enjoying a well earned retirement in Dorset apparently.
My grandfather was especially fearful of Sandoe’s colleague the formidable Felicité Gwynn who worked there for over 25 years (she died in 1984). Not only was she an expert on all things equestrian but she had a a passion for literature that would put an Oxford Don to shame. However she had little patience for tiresome customers and it was said she sometimes threw books at them. To me it’s the perfect afternoon escape especially on a rainy day. Hands down I think of it as the best bookshop in the world since I’ve known it from my earliest childhood. I cherish the memory of coming home to England for brief sojourns from living overseas and I was super excited to take a trip to Sandoe. Time there fed my love for reading and learning. If you ever go there you will find that the staff are friendly and knowledgable. They will never patronise the customer…or throw books at you.
Hurlingham Books, an independent bookshop on the Fulham High Street is another favourite of mine whenever I am seeing friends, cousins, or siblings. It’s a short walk on the Fulham road from Putney Bridge tube station. The shop is carpeted with books from the floor to the ceiling. It’s like a narrow maze of bookshelves everywhere. There is always something to buy there on any topic under the sun. It’s not the most beautiful bookshop aesthetically speaking but it’s an unpretentious pleasure to browse through its many wall to wall books.
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In central London my most frequent haunt is Hatchards off Picadilly Circus. It was founded in 1797 and still retains a very English identity. Sadly it’s been bought out by the high street giant, Waterstones, but they wisely left it intact. It stocks all the latest releases and has many author driven events. For me it’s been a post-lunch ritual to go there as it is just around the corner from the gentlemen’s clubs I am a member of (nearly all now elect women as members). I sometimes invite friends for lunch or frankly to impress a foreign business client at the club. I then wander off around the corner to browse at Hatchard’s to work off the lunch. But mostly this ritual of lunch at the club and then a browse at Hatchards I associate with my father and my siblings, even to this day. We all lead busy lives and yet we come together over lunch and then jaunt over for a bit of book browsing. What’s perfect is that Fortnum & Mason is almost next door and so it’s a perfect place to pop in to buy special blended Fortnum’s tea and jams to take back to Paris and give out as gifts to friends.
I would make a special mention to Maggs Bros bookshop which primarily deals in first editions, antiquarian, and rare books and is one of the oldest in the world. This old bookshop has now two shops, one in Bedford Square and their original shop in Curzon street in Mayfair. They have a fine collection of over 20,000 books going back to the 15th Century in many specialised fields. The buy and sell rare books and also let their customers know about first editions. So in the past they’ve had such precious gems as first 1922 editions of James Joyce’s Ulysses as well as copies of Shakespeare’s four 17th Century folios and even pocket diaries of Virginia Woolf. My parents are avid book collectors and they both frequent this shop to pick up first editions on anything from literature and architecture to military history and travel exploration. I must admit it’s a delightful place to browse for a special gift as one can never go wrong with giving a book as a gift.
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When I was working in the City of London I couldn’t wait to get away from the pressures of work. During my lunch break or after work I would wander over to Hanbury street in Shoreditch to visit a very cool and atmospheric bookshop called Libreria. The mirrored ceiling and intensely yellow bookshelves and comfy seats are meant to disconnect you to the world outside. No phones are allowed. The books are arranged by theme so it’s a magical mystery tour of sorts browsing books and coming across books you might never have considered in the first place.
I do go out of my way to drop in on the Bloomsbury area for a browse is the London Review bookshop. The bookshop is on Bury street. Bloomsbury is known for its literary connections to Virginia Woolf, E M Forster and others literary icons. The shop itself is owned by the purveyor of long-form critical writing that is the London Review of Books. There’s also an adjoining tea and cake shop to put your feet up after a good browse through its extensive literature and humanities collection. There are other quaint bookshops in Bloomsbury area and they are well worth exploring too such as Jarndyce Antiquarian Booksellers outside the British Museum. They specialise in 18th and 19th century English literature and history and you can be sure to find some amazing editions of Dickens’ work here alongside Hazlitt’s writings.
Recently I discovered another gem of a secondhand bookshop near to St. Pancras station called Judd Books. St. Pancras is where I come back and forth on the Eurostar between Paris and London. I hate crowds and I hate waiting. So if I have time to kill I take my small carry on luggage and wheel myself across Euston road down a side street called Marchmont street.  It’s nothing fancy but a very functional bookshop selling tons of secondhand books that are almost brand new, mostly general fiction. Books line the walls from floor to ceiling so you may even need a ladder to reach the very top shelves.
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In Paris where I now live I do go out of my way to support local bookshops even if the cost of an English language book is more expensive than if you bought it from the UK - this is because of added French taxes on imports. Still, it’s a small price to pay. Everyone will say the premier English bookshop in Paris is Shakespeare and Company. It is undoubtedly the most famous English bookstore in Paris. Perhaps even one of the most famous bookstores in Paris period. When it re-opened in 1951, it became a sort of hub for ex-pats living in France. It was inspired by the original Shakespeare and Company store by Sylvia Beach in the 1920s and 1930s where writers such as Joyce, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Eliot and Pound would gather. George Whitman took over and he paid homage to her amazing example. 
The shop today continues to attract numerous anglophone readers, writers and tourists every day. And that’s why I try and avoid it if I can. It’s a wonderful bookshop and tons of books to get your teeth into. But it’s simply over-crowded by tourists who are just taking selfies. Moreover the shop is manned by sincere but earnest young American literature graduates who want to have some of that Hemingway or Fitzgerald magic dust sprinkled upon them by association whilst writing their own Great American Novel Written in Paris. I find it grating that some of them feel they have to give you a full blown semiotic laden book review on a book you’ve asked if they have in stock or not. But the bookshop does put on great open events where many famous authors drop in and I know it does support aspiring amateur writers.
There are other English language bookshops worth visiting in the Latin Quarter, the student area and where the Sorbonne is. The Abbey Bookshop, Berkley Books, and San Francisco Book Company are similar in that they are decent places to spend a lazy afternoon browsing English books of all kinds. Of the three the Abbey is better. It’s mostly dog eared second hand books What I love is the presentation of books. Books seem to cover every single inch of this tiny store. You have to be contortionist to get around the tiny shop. There are books piled high in every nook and cranny of the place and one misstep could bring tonnes of books down upon you. I admire the shop for trying to cram so many titles into one tiny space. I generally avoid the Latin Quarter because it is saturated with tourists and it’s just over crowded. But because it’s full of university students there are many French language second hand book stores and antiquarian and rare bookshops which are definitely worth a browse.
The Red Wheelbarrow, a tiny bookshop in the Marais part of Paris is well worth a visit.
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The bookshop I go to for English language books is Librairie Galignani on rue de Rivoli - opposite the iconic Tuileries Garden. The bookshop at this site has been run by the Galignani family since the beginning of the 19th century and it’s certainly the most grand of the English language bookshops in Paris. Indeed, the Galginani family has been in business since 1520 as publishers but they also boldly claim to be the first English bookshop established on the continent. On their website Galignani does boast an impressive history: “The Galignanis were among the first to use the recently invented printing press in order to distribute their books to a larger audience. Beginning in 1520, Simone Galignani published in Venice a Latin grammar (the oldest “Galignani” known). However, their greatest success was the Geografia by PTOLEMAUS published in 1597, an incredible bestseller in both the 16th and 17th centuries. Not surprising, the shop has moved locations several times in four centuries, and only as recently as 1856 has been on the present shop on the rue de Rivoli. It is still run by direct descendants of the original family.
It is an international bookstore, so there are of course massive amounts of titles in French, as well as other languages, mainly English. It has a wonderful fine arts section. It stocks all the latest releases in fiction and non-fiction for both English and French titles and the prices are the same as elsewhere. Be warned though, if you want to soak up the atmosphere of an ancient bookshop then you will be disappointed. It’s luxuriously pristine and smells of pine. The shop is large and deep, with floor-to-ceiling dark wooden shelves and upper levels that can be reached by a swish staircase. It oozes sophistication. It’s a good place to bump into handsome young sophisticated French men who are worldly and charming without being intellectually tortured or pretentious as the ones you might come across in the Latin Quarter. It’s how I met one of my French boyfriends at the time.
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Down the rue de Rivoli I should mention WH Smith, the well known British high street retail book shop. It’s the largest English-language bookstore in France. The books on sale are the same as you would find in the UK. But what makes it worth a visit is the rows of magazines you might want from design magazines all the way to Harvard Business Review and the Economist. The real jewel is upstairs where they have a great English children’s book section for all ages. You’ll find French parents picking with their sprogs picking up books They also stock hard to find British (and even American) foods from Heinz baked beans to candy bars. But one of the main reasons I go there is for the scones (served with clotted cream and jam) and decent tea served in the cafe that’s tucked away upstairs. It’s a nice place to take Anglophile French friends.
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Congratulations again on getting into Cambridge to read History. You got in on merit and hard work so you’re fully deserving of your place. Make the most of it. It’s good that you’re taking a year out before you go up to study. I think many universities will only just be picking up the pieces from the awful mess the pandemic will have left them with.
Thanks for your question.
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phoneboxfairy · 4 years
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Working Up a Sweat (The Gym Fic!) (smut alert)
Ao3 link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22405093 (Includes all proper formatting/italics/etc)  Commission for @a-god-of-calamity :)   Magnolia, Fiore, a fair sized city boasting sixty thousand residents, and home to a few notable families. Perhaps the most notable is the Dragneel clan. Unlike other families the Dragneels are not old money. Rather, Igneel, the family patriarch often referred to as The Dragon King, earned their wealth and notability slowly but surely, starting with the purchase of a single hotel a few years before the birth of his son. By the time the son, Natsu, was in middle school that single hotel had transformed into an empire. A second hotel was dedicated in providing luxury accommodations for travelers who otherwise might not have been able to afford it. Eventually the empire grew to include include shelters for families in need and the Dragneel Fund, which provides support to those who need it. But even Igneel the Dragon King cannot live forever, so making sure his heir would be ready to take over became a priority starting right around the same time Natsu entered high school. He made sure the boy had extra lessons on proper business management as well as plenty of first hand experience helping in various positions within the organization. By the time Natsu was twenty five he knew that company like the back of his own hand.  Even the old man was frequently heard praising his son’s skills. But lately...lately it all seemed like it was a bit too much. As much as he loved his family and the company, he desperately sought some sort of an outlet. Natsu tried to work out at his private gym, knowing full well how working out can relieve so much pent-up stress. But his efforts here were fruitless. When he was at home he couldn’t help thinking about work, about the company that led to his family’s wealth. Good thing Magnolia has some pretty awesome gyms. The newest one in town was called Fairy Tail, and already had a reputation for its facilities, classes, and top-of-the-line equipment. One afternoon after a stressful meeting, Natsu made a detour from his usual path home, instead ending up in the gym. He paid for a membership and made his way to the locker room. That’s where he first saw her. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of what he immediately described as a smoking hot blonde.  She’s curvy but clearly works out, he thought, judging by the way her sweatpants and tank top hugged her form. Her hair was tied up in a sloppy ponytail, and she had this fierce determined look on her face. What a babe. Wow. He shook his head to clear his mind, turned around… ...and walked right into a locked door. Thwack It didn’t go unnoticed. A few people snickered. But otherwise nobody really seemed to care about Natsu’s silly blunder. He dusted himself off then headed in the direction of the weight room...this time paying attention to where he was walking. As soon as he got to his destination he got right to work pumping iron. For a while that’s all he could think about. Then a voice caught his attention. "Are you alright?" "Hnh?" He looked up and saw her, the babe from earlier. Oh shit, better play it cool. "I...saw you run into that door. I would have stopped but I was running late for my class. I didn’t want my students to miss any yoga time." She was blushing. The rosy tint to her cheek made her look even prettier. "Ohh. That's nothin'. I'm fine. Thanks for asking!" He flashed a smile. Her blush deepened. "You're welcome." Pause. She bit her lip. "I'm Lucy, by the way. Lucy Heartfilia." "Nice to meet ya, Lucy." He recognized the name. She was the heir to the Heartfilia travel company, a group that sent quite a few customers to Dragneel hotels.  Rumor had it she had spent part of her inheritance buying a small bookshop and turning it into what locals referred to as paradise for bookworms. She was also every bit as beautiful as he had heard. "Likewise. You're Natsu Dragneel, right?" "Yeah, that's me. How'd you know?" "I saw your family crest on your hoodie. And I, um, recognized you from the paper." Those publicity pictures don't do him justice at ALL, she thought. To say nothing of how utterly hypnotic it was watching him do dumbbell curls. "Wow, you're beautiful and smart. I like that." “Thanks.” Her smile lit up her face. “So, what brings you to Fairy Tail? Don’t you have a private gym in your mansion?” “Yeah but sometimes you just need to get away, ya know? Escape from everyday life.” “I definitely get that. I should go, though. It’s been a long day and I’m supposed to meet my friends for dinner.” She handed him a folded up scrap of paper, blush setting her cheeks ablaze. “Call me if you want. Or, you know, if you have time.” “A cutie like you? I’ll make time.” A smile that exposed a fang and made Lucy’s heart flutter. “Al...alright! See you later, Natsu.” With that she left, leaving Natsu feeling pretty good about the whole situation. It wasn’t every day you had a meet cute with an absolute babe like Lucy, after all. With her on his mind, he couldn’t help smiling. That first night they shared a few texts. He wasn’t really surprised she didn’t talk much. After all, she did say she was meeting with friends. No way was he going to monopolize her free time like that. He also wasn’t surprised when they met up again a few days later after their respective workouts and immediately began flirting. Natsu was, however, quite surprised when Lucy asked him out. “Do you, um, want to go out sometime?” “Like a date?” Flustered nod. “Sounds good to me. I know! I can take you to dinner Saturday night.” Lucy paused and seemed to contemplate this for a minute. Then she smiled. “I like that idea. If you want I can show you around my bookstore first...” The light in her eyes suggested she wanted to, so why was she acting so shy about it? Well, Natsu wasn’t about to make a beautiful woman feel bad about something she was so clearly passionate about… “Sure!” Another one of his bright smiles. “Text me your address and let me know when you wanna meet up. Don’t keep me waitin’, alright?” Mock sternness. She saw right through his ruse, giggled,  melted his heart. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Dragneel.” Lucy leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Natsu’s eyes widened. He sure as hell hadn’t expected that, not so soon anyway. “Is that a hint of things to come?” “Only if you’re good.” Her response left him speechless, eyes wide as he stared at her in admiration of her boldness. She treated him to another cheek kiss, giggled. “See you Saturday night.” With that the pair went their separate ways, both contemplating their upcoming date. Truth be told it was quite an exciting prospect. Neither one were exactly unlucky in love, but all previous relationships seemed to be lacking...something.  Natsu was fed up with women trying to hook up with him in an attempt to score some of the family fortune, and Lucy had had more than enough of men seeing her as nothing more than a smoking hot body and a prolific bank account. Their meeting had been quite fortuitous. Lucy didn’t care how wealthy Natsu was, as she had money of her own. And sure, Natsu thought Lucy was a total babe, but he was also quite enamored with her personality, her sense of humor, and the way her smile made her entire being light up. Sexual attraction was there, sure, but with it was also the possibility of something more, something sweet, something lasting… Natsu sure hoped so, anyway. With these thoughts in his mind, the heir to the Dragneel Fund spent his Saturday morning preparing for this date. Lucy spent hers minding her shop for a bit, although she did close early to make sure she was adequately dolled up for her suitor. “Adequately” was an understatement. She thought she looked beautiful, a perfect mix of relaxed and classy in a black uneven tank top, matching skirt, a white overshirt, cut out leggings, and black boots. Her long hair was tied into two side ponytails, and a light dusting of makeup accented her face. By the awe-struck smile on Natsu’s face when she opened the door, he was pretty impressed too. “Hey, Lucy! Looking good. I feel kinda underdressed.” A gesture at his black dress shirt and jeans. “Don’t feel that way. You look great, Natsu.” Cute blush, beautiful smile. “Come on in. I’ll show you around.” The Celestial Gate was a shop like none he had ever experienced. It had that old book smell that reminded him of his father’s study growing up. Lots of shelves were lined with an endless quantity of books. There was even a cozy little reading area with couches, beanbag chairs, and tables to set snacks on. Now, Natsu didn’t exactly visit a lot of bookstores, preferring to order any needed reading materials online, but somehow he found Lucy’s shop every bit as appealing as its owner.   “I have an idea.” “Hm?” Lucy would never admit it but she had been glancing at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking.“Why don’t we stay here? We can order something to eat and get to know each other.” That look on her face seemed to be a mix of surprise and relief. He suspected, given their similar backgrounds, that she too had had more than her fair share of glitzy, ritzy dates. Here’s the thing about glitzy, ritzy dates: You can’t properly get to know someone on them. Not really. “I’d love that.” “Awesome. Hungry for anything special?” “This is gonna sound weird but...pizza!” She giggled. Natsu grinned. He didn’t think that was weird at all. That’s how Natsu Dragneel and Lucy Heartfilia came to spend their first date sitting together in an oversized beanbag chair she called a fuf, eating pizza and talking about their life experiences. Once the food had been put away he laid back, stretching his arms behind his head. She quirked her head, bit her lip. “Can we cuddle? Is that okay?” “Duh. Go ahead.” A gesture and a smile beckoned her closer. She paused for a moment, smiled, then snuggled next to him. As if on instinct he curled his arms around her. Why not? It felt right to hold her close like this, although he couldn’t explain why. His fingers dared to stroke over the bare skin of her midriff. She didn’t object. In fact, she snuggled closer and let out a content sigh. “So warm...I like this...” “Me too.” He chuckled. He lifted his other hand to her cheek, let his thumb brush over her chin. She gazed up at him, eyes full of curiosity and wonder...with maybe a little anticipation thrown in. She nibbled her bottom lip. His heart melted. So cute, so absolutely beautiful. She looked like she needed a little tenderness, and honestly he was glad to give that to her. That decided, he leaned in, took her by surprise, kissed her. No resistance. That kiss was sweet...but entirely too fast. “Natsu?” “Yeah, Luce?”Luce...I like that... “Kiss me again?”“Alright...” Another softer chuckle. Another kiss, then another. She seemed to melt into his arms, and almost all her inhibitions floated away.Almost.As good as it felt to make out with her, to feel her body against his, Natsu couldn’t help noticing a little hesitation. And undeniable chemistry or not, he wasn’t the type to force someone into something they weren’t comfortable with yet. Especially not Lucy. So he pulled away from the kiss, rested his forehead on hers. Smiled.“That was nice...” “Yeah… we should do it again sometime.” “Definitely.” Here she kissed his cheek. “Thanks for an amazing first date.” “First, huh? That means there’ll be more, right?” “Duh.” She giggled. Natsu waited for Lucy to lock the shop up, then walked with her to her apartment door. They shared a tender kiss with a promise for more, and he watched to make sure she made it inside safely. Then he went home, unable to keep himself from smiling. Maybe an hour passed since Natsu had kissed Lucy goodnight and headed home. He had enough time to hop in the shower, change into comfy pajama pants, and flop on his bed and turn the TV on when his phone buzzed. A message...from Lucy? And a photo at that? It wasn’t exactly a surprise. After all, they had sent each other silly selfies before. So he opened the message, opened the photo file… ...and was treated to an absolutely stunning vision.  There was Lucy in a rather racy lingerie set. Black silk and lace. A pushup bra and a low-rise thong, accompanied by a cheeky message. “New set...you like?” Oh yeah, he liked, alright.He sent back a single word.“Wow.” She didn’t reply right away. That’s when he realized something was, well, amiss. His suspicion was confirmed when her response came through.“Oh my GOD wrong convo. I meant to send that to my bffs. Sorry sorry sorry!” She was mortified. Aw, poor girl... Natsu got an idea.“It’s fine. I like seeing that side of you. Let’s make it even, though.” “...you like it? And what do you mean, make it even?”He leaned back on his bed, grinned, snapped a pic, and sent it to her. “Fair’s fair ;)” At first he wondered if he scared her off, since she didn’t respond. When she did..she was clearly impressed. “Well...that explains why you always wear baggy pants ;)” One message made him blush. How could she be so adorable and sexy all at once? “Duh. ;) Just know you can always be yourself with me, sexy-as-hell selfies and all.” “Thanks, Natsu. I should go to sleep, tho. I can barely keep my eyes open. Talk tomorrow, k?”“Of course. Night, Luce. Sweet dreams.”A kiss emoji was her last message of the night. From that point on, things seemed to change between the two. To be clear it wasn’t a bad change. In fact, Natsu thought it was an improvement. Lucy was becoming more open and flirty with him, whether they were on a date, in the gym, or texting at the end of a long day. They had known each other for a little over a month, and had gotten into a routine. Chat and flirt at the gym on the days Lucy taught her class, go on dates every Saturday. Then Lucy caught Natsu by surprise by sending him spicy little snapshots every night accompanied by the same three word message: “Just for you… * kiss*”   The first night she was wearing an outfit that reminded him of a librarian...well, except for the way her top was unbuttoned to reveal a flash of black lace bra and the curve of her breasts. On another night she was laying down in a silky nightgown that accented her form perfectly.One night he was treated to the sight of his gorgeous girlfriend’s body barely wrapped in a towel, offering him a teasing glimpse of generous underboob and soft freshly washed skin, skin he wanted to kiss and touch more with each passing day. Late Thursday night, she surprised him yet again with a text. “Rough day?” “Yeah. Ugh. Board meetings suck.” “I feel that. Here. Maybe this’ll make you feel better...” Accompanied by a rather large download file. Curious, he clicked it...then realized it wasn’t one pic, but several. The folder was titled “Yoga Fun.” Yeah, he liked the sound of that. There was Lucy in a tight tank top and shorts that hugged that beautiful ass of hers, doing a variety of sexy yoga poses that succeeded in taking his breath away and sending blood straight to his cock. He couldn’t, wouldn’t stop looking at the utterly erotic vision before him. Then his phone buzzed again. “What do you think?” He responded with a pic of his own, showing one hand stroking over the growing bulge in his sweats. Buzz buzz. Another photo file showing her in the bath, her completely bare body covered in nothing but warm water and bubbles. “Mm, yummy. Now to enjoy a nice bath. More tomorrow...” Followed by a wink and a heart. That night Natsu gave in to temptation. He let his imagination wander as he flipped through Lucy’s photos, his fantasies focusing on what he would very much enjoy doing with the voluptuous blonde. At this point the sexual tension between the two was as thick as fog. They were clearly both head over heels for one another, both pretty damn sure they were going to hook up at some point… but the question was, when? The answer turned out to be sooner than either expected. The next night, after some pretty intense flirtation and a goodbye kiss that included him grabbing her sweet little ass in the middle of Fairy Tail’s evening rush, Natsu got a message. “Want to play with me tonight?” The accompanying image made his mouth water. She lay on her back in a rather skimpy ensemble consisting of a cupless bra and low-cut lacy panties. Her free hand, the one not holding the camera, stroked over her bare skin. Her hair was down, flowing freely around her, and there was a sinfully inviting look on her face. There was only one acceptable answer here. “YES.” “Good. What’cha wearing?” For once words failed him and he went for the direct approach, took a hopefully appealing selfie showing off chest and low-hanging sweatpants, and sent it to her. Her response sent his heart racing. “Yummy, but a bit overdressed, yes?” “If you say so...” He paused, flung his sweatpants off, took another pic. “Is that better, babe?” “Getting there. I’ll give you a special treat if you lose the boxers, Dragon Prince.” One single text sent his pulse racing. Was she serious?! Gods, he hoped so… He also didn’t want to keep Lucy waiting, not with such an intriguing promise hanging in the air. So off went the boxers. He grasped his cock and snapped another photo, hoping she would like what he had to offer. By the looks of it, she was quite impressed. “Dragon is right. I’d love to ride that...” Accompanied by a wink. He blushed. For several moments there was silence. Natsu wondered if Lucy had forgotten about this special treat… then his phone buzzed, indicating a received video file… That video file… holy shit, it was hotter than anything he had ever had the privilege of witnessing. Lucy was on her knees on her bed. Her legs were parted, and she ran her hands through her hair. The whole time she was flashing a sexy little smile at the camera. Her hands roamed. They cupped and squeezed her generous tits, and fingers brushed over perky, berry pink nipples. Holy shit she’s fucking perfect… He couldn’t, wouldn’t, take his eyes off of her, slowly pumping his cock as the video continued. Her hands wandered downward, stroking over her tummy and lower. She did a little shimmy dance as she hooked both thumbs into the waistband of those tiny panties, tugged down, exposing silky skin and a bare hint of blonde hair… “Natsu...” Her seductive whisper made his cock twitch. He grasped harder, eagerly anticipating what was next, wanting to see her most intimate regions… ...but the video stopped there. Knowing Lucy, this was deliberate. She did like teasing, after all. He sent her a video of his own, showing her exactly what he thought of her special treat. “More please?” “Of course…*kiss emoji* You know… I think of you when I touch myself…and I feel like playing tonight...” “Oh? I’d like to see that.” “You can if you want...vid chat, maybe?” “Yes please.” The text went through and perhaps a minute later Natsu’s laptop beeped. Incoming video request. He did a flying leap over to his computer desk, perched himself in the chair so he was comfortable and visible to the camera, and accepted the request. There was Lucy, beaming up at him in all her beautiful glory. He could see her a lot clearer now, thanks to the larger screen. Her skin looked so soft, supple, glistening with a fine mist of sweat. “Ready, Natsu?” “You bet,  Lucy. Let’s play.” His voice was dark and low, practically a growl. The sound gave her a sweet chill. Playing with him was going to be fun… “Alright...” Soft giggle. She bit her lip, gazing up at him with those big brown eyes as she tugged her panties off and let them fall to the ground. One hand shifted between her legs, parting her lips so he could see easier. “You like this, Natsu?” A purr as she traced fingers over her clit and those delicate pink folds. “I love it, Lucy...” Definitely a growl as he grasped and pumped. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her pull out a vibrator from under her pillow and gently trace it over her skin, taking the same path her fingers had taken moments before. “Shit...I wish that was me...” “And I wish you were...right... here...” She slipped the toy into her pussy, then let it buzz away as she fucked herself. Her voice got a little higher. She sounded a bit like a video girl when she moaned, except those girls had absolutely nothing on his goddess. “Babe, if I were there you wouldn’t have to play with that damn toy...” “Ohh...really… what, mnn, what would you do to me if you were here?” “Anything you wanted.” Fuck, the thought of really being with her was making his already impressive erection even bigger. “I think I’d lay you on that soft bed of yours, warm your entire body up with my mouth, then take my time pleasuring and fucking you until we were both completely satisfied.” “That sounds like heaven. Mnnn...” The toy was drenched, and he could see her horny juices leaking from her folds as she humped her hips, one hand pinching and tweaking her nipples. “Na...Natsu...” “Go on, Lucy-baby.” He caught a glimpse of her nodding in response. Then she moved the toy up to rub little circles against her clit...and immediately cried out. “Ohh….Natsuuuuuu!” Her entire body trembled in utter ecstasy, all for him. Natsu kept pumping, fueling his own passion with the thought of being buried deep inside her, imagining her milking his cock as she came… “Lu...Lucy….!!!” One last mighty pump brought forth a spattering mess of his seed. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t say he cared. It’d get cleaned up eventually. “That...that was fucking amazing...” “M-hm. It was...” Big happy sigh. “Hey Natsu?” “Yeah?” “I’m gonna hop in the shower. I’ll call you when I get out, alright?” “Alright. Take your time, baby.” A giggle as she blew a kiss, then the screen went blank. She did indeed take her time. He had time to get cleaned up and was loafing on his bed, this goofy happy smile on his face. He had also had time to send a message to the company’s merchandiser requesting that a Dragneel Fund hoodie be sent to a certain bookshop that next morning along with a large bouquet of flowers, which explained part of that goofy smile. Ring Ring They exchanged some sweet talk followed by the comfortable pause of two people very much in love. Then Lucy sighed. “What’s up? Everything’s good with us, right?”“Everything’s wonderful. I was just thinking, that’s all.” “Thinkin’?” “Yeah...” Was it his imagination or did her voice falter here? “I...I think I love you, Natsu. Isn’t that crazy? I mean, we haven’t exactly known each other very long...”“That’s not crazy, Lucy.” His voice was low, soft. He was imagining holding her close as they talked, maybe even running a hand through her hair. “You’re not the type of girl who’d be so open and sexy with someone unless you really cared for ‘em.” “...how do you get me so well?” “Because I love you, duh.” Too late to take the words back now, not like he wanted to. “It’s weird. This whole thing started out as a big physical attraction but the more we’re together, the more I’m around you, the more I realize it’s gotta be love.” Sniffle, sniffle.“Lucy? Are...you crying?” “Y..yeah, a little. Because I’m happy. You...you make me happy...” Siiiigh. Then,  “I... think I have an idea for our next date.” “Alright. What’s that?” “We could meet at your place and have some, um, private gym time. I could show you some yoga moves in person...” Yoga moves...the implication was clear with the tone of her voice. Oh, they were going to get flexible, all right. “I like the sound of that. Same time, right?” “Yeah.” Yawn. “Sorry. I’m about to fall asleep.” “It’s okay. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Sweet dreams, princess.” “Night, Natsu. Love ya.” Click.That was that. Both fell asleep easily, smiling even in slumber. In the blink of an eye it was Saturday afternoon. Natsu got an early start, heading down to his gym to make sure everything was in order an hour before Lucy was due. Then he started lifting weights, pumping iron until the doorbell rang. There she stood, smiling at him in a slightly oversized hoodie and those same shorts she had teased him with the other night. “Hey, beautiful.” “Hi.” Blush. “Where should I put my bag?” “Anywhere’s fine. I’ll get staff to take it up to my room.” “Okay.” She set the overnight bag down, then made a show of unzipping her hoodie. She peeled it off slowly, flashing him a saucy smile as she revealed a skimpy crop top that accented every curve.Damn…“So, ah, how do we start?”“Watch me and follow my lead.” A quick kiss that would have been chaste were it not for Lucy nibbling his lip. Watching her was no problem, not when the sight of her enthralled his senses. He wasn’t great at yoga, but she was more than willing to help. She brushed her hands against him, giving him subtle hints at how to correct his posture. Eventually she started showed him some more complex poses, more for the sake of showing off for him than anything else. Splits, bending over, even a rather suggestive headstand. Then she felt a warm hand stroke up her thigh. Siiiigh. “That feels good...” “Want some more?” “Yes please.” “Whatever you say. Keep posin’.” And pose she did. She did another headstand, starting with her legs straight up but moving into splits. His hands found her ass, squeezed, then adventurous fingers stroked over the front of her shorts. She blushed, exhaled, didn’t protest. She also didn’t tremble at all, no small feat when she was being intimately fondled. Damn him and his amazing hands. Slowly, carefully, she moved her legs straight upward. “Hold still.” “Okay.” Inhale, exhale. She didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was up to. His hands roamed again, this time tugging her shorts upwards and off her legs. “Oh...Naughty boy.” “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Dark chuckle, flash of fang. “I like it...and I think you’d like it if I got rid of some of these clothes.” “You know I would. Show me. Please.” “Anything you want, love.” In one smooth motion Lucy got back on her feet. Then she made a show of peeling her top and sports bra off...a show Natsu watched intently. She didn’t break eye contact, not even as her hands roamed and cupped her now bare breasts. He caught a glimpse of her tongue flicking over lips. Holy shit. “Now what?” “Don’t tell me you’re playing innocent, Natsu...” “No, no way.” Here he reached over, cupped her cheek, smiled at her. “I want you, but I want you to have a say in what we do tonight.” “Oh...okay. In that case...” Her eyes brightened and her smile turned mischievous. “Tie me up.” Not a question, none of her usual shyness. He nodded then wrapped some athletic tape around her wrists. Then he took a good long look at her. There she lay, naked except for those little panties. Those would come off soon enough. First he focused on her bare form, leaving kisses and love bites all over her body. He grabbed and kneaded her ass. She squirmed. Good sign. "Hold still.""Okay..." He tugged her panties off, baring the sweet pink treasure between her thighs.And what a treasure. He gazed at her in reverence. One hand stroked over her tiny tuft of soft blonde hair."Damn, Lucy. You're perfect.""Thanks. Don't be shy, though." Eyes heavy, voice low and sensual. He nodded then turned his full attention to lavishing pleasure on her. Fingers traced over her clit with feather soft touches while his other hand parted her lips oh so gently.She smells incredible... Growl. He leaned in and flicked his tongue against her delicate pink folds. She trembled, quietly begging for more."More" was exactly what he wanted to give her. His free hand stroked her thigh then squeezed her ass. Then he treated her to a spank. She moaned and arched her back. So he did it again, his hand leaving a red mark on her peach skin. Her scent changed, and she was definitely getting wetter. “The cute rich girl has a spanking kink, huh?""Mm-hm.""What if I spank you while I'm eating you? That sound good, Lucy?""Why don't you see for yourself?" She winked and giggled...but then his hand met her ass again and the giggle became a moan.He nibbled her clit. His fingers kept her lips parted as he moved again, letting his tongue trace over her slit. She was a hot, delicious mess: squirming, tits heaving, biting her lip as she begged for more. Another spank. She made an absolutely feral sound, which he took as encouragement to go on.Not that he needed encouragement...His tongue slid into her slick folds, lapping up her delicious wetness. He had wanted to taste her ever since they had played together on camera, and reality exceeded his expectations. She was a goddess, and her pussy tasted like heaven. He wanted nothing more than to savor her, to satisfy her over and over...He also wanted to carry her up to his bedroom, pin her down to his bed, and bury himself so deliciously deep inside her...Well, that would happen soon enough. She shifted, draping her long legs over his shoulders, spreading to give him better access. He slipped two fingers into her, fucking her with his hand as he licked and nibbled. He hit a certain spot. She shuddered.“Ahhhh!” Aha!He hit it again, rubbing what had to be her g-spot with increased pressure. "Holy shit Natsu just like that....mnnnnh...yes..." Another nibble, another thrust. Lucy didn’t just moan Natsu’s name. She screamed it as her body was rocked by a glorious orgasm complete with a spray of her juices. Never had he ever made a girl squirt before, but no other girl was quite like his Lucy… he smiled at the thought as he untied her, feeling her soft hands fluff through his hair as he licked her clean. “Thanks for the snack, babe.” “Mmm, and thank you for the orgasm. I’ve never cum so hard in my life, love.” It amazed him how she could go from delicious temptress to sweet girl next door so quickly, but he could honestly say he loved both sides of her. With that decided he pulled her into a kiss, one he hoped conveyed every bit of feeling he had for her, one she was happy to return. “Let’s go to bed.” The softest of whispers yet so sensual. He nodded, picked her up and carried her to his room. He lay her on his bed with another oh so tender kiss. In all his fantasies he had imagined playing as rough with her as possible, taking her with animalistic fervor. Now that she was in his bed...it didn’t seem right. His Lucy deserved to be pleasured, savored, worshiped. And Natsu was very keen on worshiping her. She helped him shuck his sweatpants off and he got right to work. He kissed and nibbled her body, caressed her soft skin, taking in every reaction. She had to be exhausted from their ordeals down in the gym, but you’d never know it. She writhed with each touch, moaning with each caress and kiss. He nibbled her collarbone while his hands explored her breasts. Soft, smooth, full. He squeezed and kneaded, all while suckling the tiny berry of her nipple. Every so often he switched, mostly to devote equal attention to both sides. Then she let out a sound kinda like a whimper. “Want it, baby?” “I...need it. Please, Natsu...” “Alright. Gimme your hand...” Nod. He clasped her hand and braced himself over her. She wrapped both legs around his waist, her way of encouraging him to make the next move. When he pushed his hard cock into her sweet, damp, depths, the euphoria both felt was audible in their moans and sighs. “Nnnnnh, feels so good, Natsu...” Words couldn’t describe the feeling of finally being one with her, of making love to this woman who meant so damn much to him… They moved together, each motion accented with kisses that raised in intensity as passion heightened. Her hands wandered. He wondered absently if there was a rhyme or reason, or if she just wanted to explore his skin with her fingers. Either way it felt incredible. She felt incredible. He paused mid-thrust, towering breathless over his goddess, gazing at her and seeing her gazing back at him, her eyes amber with love light. “Love ya, Lucy.” “And I love you. Now shh.” Delicate fingers traced over his mouth. Her hand slipped to his cheek and pulled him into a kiss. He got the hint right away and resumed pleasuring her.  So warm, so inviting. So perfect. Minutes...hours...how long did they spend together that night, entwined in passion? Neither cared about time. Being together was all that mattered. Once passion reached its peak and the waves of bliss subsided they lay together kissing and cuddling. They only paused, reluctantly, when Natsu got up claiming a need to pee...which ended up taking longer than Lucy expected. He came back, scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom, settling her into the warm waters of a bath. Then he got in with her and treated her to a kiss. Later on, dried off and cuddling in bed, Lucy grabbed her phone and took a selfie. Natsu quirked his head at her.“For memories.” “Ohh. We’ll have plenty of those.” He kissed her and she knew he meant it. This beautiful night was just the beginning... (Epilogue coming as soon as I can get it written :) )
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koalitypop · 5 years
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how to make a bookworm fall in love with (all of) you || chapter 1 - “nothing”
pairings: OT7 x reader 
tags: love for books, polyamory (in the future) 
word count: 2.9k
chapter 2
a/n: all of the books that have been mentioned are real books and i specifically recommend reading “Nothing” - it is one of my favourite books and it is a great read if you are looking for something rather philosophical. i hope you enjoy the piece! 
When all 7 members of BTS entered the local bookstore, where you spent every afternoon, surprisingly, you couldn’t be any more annoyed. You could hear that a group of pretty noisy people had entered, but because of the shelves in front of you, you couldn’t see them – all you did was sigh and continue reading the resume of that thriller book you saw everywhere you went.  
Books were your biggest passion. They helped you understand yourself better and were your secret escape universe from this tiring awful world. And after years on years, being supported only by fictional characters and magical worlds, you decided to try to surround yourself with books, as they were one of the not so many things, which brought you happiness and comfort.  
You treasured the few hours you spent every day in that bookstore a lot and there were many reasons about it - it was really warm and cosy, constantly smelled like tea, wasn’t really bright and, most importantly, it was located in the rather calm place in your neighbourhood. It totally fit your imaginations for the best bookshop.  
“Yaah, it smells really good in here”, a boy exclaimed somewhere in the bookstore.
You rolled your eyes, irritated. Was it necessary for this boy to scream?
Many steps coming from different places and a boy’s shade on your right - someone was getting closer to you. “It must be one of those punks” you instantly thought. It wasn’t hard for you to imagine their hands scrunching and creasing the books or not putting them in the correct place, making cold shivers creep down your back. Such a disrespectful attitude towards books wasn’t something you could tolerate.  
The resume of that thriller book sounded promising, but you put it back at its place and decided to continue wandering around, hopefully not meeting any of those nasty sounding people.  
You turned left twice, going to the Young Adult section of the bookstore. The quantity of Young Adult books was astonishing, especially for a bookstore, which wasn’t a part of chain stores. Young Adult wasn’t exactly your favourite category when it comes to books, but as every other thing in regard to books, it was worth a try. Despite that, your favourite book was categorised as Young Adult one.  
A new hardcover edition of Looking for Alaska. Not your all-time favourite, but still a very good read. The new edition was really beautiful, still mostly black as the origina-. 
“Gosh, those idiots again!”
Someone ran into the section out, almost breaking one shelf, making you turn your gaze to him in shock. That person looked pretty interesting - wearing a very old-looking coat, with wide pants and a Ravenclaw sweater underneath, a pretty ridiculous outfit, which however looked gorgeous on him. If you could only see his face, his stupid baseball cap getting in the way.
The boy looked at you and sighed. “Ah, sorry-” at first starting in Korean, “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” then he continued in a very bold American accent.
He made a bow-like movement and continued looking for whatever he was looking for. Fortunately, you were able to get a few glances of his face. Olive tan, beautiful brown hair and sinfully plump lips, as his tall and fit figure wasn’t seductive enough. It was a miracle to see such a handsome boy in a bookshop.  
He cursed behind you, obviously not finding the book. You were trying to carry on with the resume, when after one not very well-coordinated clumsy movement, he was standing dangerously close to you, still searching.  
You tried not to send curious glances every two seconds, but, God, it was so damn hard. His eyes jumping around the shelves in between the tittles, trying to find one, so focused, with his lips slightly opened, making him look immensely cute.
Someone shouted something from the other end of the bookstore. And then, you remembered.  
He must be a part of this noisy group, which entered a few minutes ago. He probably wasn’t so smart as he seemed, maybe he spoke English, because he’s Korean-America, despite not looking as one. He's probably buying a book for his girlfriend, as a late gift for an anniversary. Or for a cousin. Definitely not for himself.
“I found it!” he screamed, pulling a book out.  
Nothing by Janne Teller. Your favourite book.  
Okay, this changed the things a lot. You could say something, you had the rights to do so. Maybe, just maybe, you were a bit too harsh on him, maybe he truly was buying the book for himself, maybe he’s even a bookworm, just like you. You could just simply praise him, nothing overboard, only acknowledging the fact that he has made a great choice.  
“Good choice. It’s my favourite book.” you remarked in Korean.  
The boy turned to you so fast, you were afraid he would bump into you just as he did a few minutes ago into the shelves.  
“It’s mine too! I reread it every mon-… Wait, you speak Korean?” he was so excited to speak about the book, it took him some time to figure out that you are speaking in his native language, despite obviously not being Korean.  
“Would I be looking for a book in a Korean bookstore, if I didn’t?” you chuckled. Pronunciation, accent – you sounded as a native speaker.  
“You speak really well! It’s surprising. Korean is a very difficult language and not many people are able to speak as well as us Koreans do! Not that you look dumb, I mean you look nice, even smart... Oh, God, don’t mind my blabbering.” he ended up getting all shy and blushing.
“It’s alright, I get that a lot.” you laughed more at his cuteness than at his words.  
It seemed like he was interested, so you had to give it a try and follow. And how could you not, such a man shouldn't be passed.  
“I am Namjoon.” he added, giving you his hand for a handshake.
“Y/n.” you simply replied, taking it shyly.  
“So, you said that Nothing is your favourite book?” Namjoon said, his voice full of excitement.  
“Yeah, it is. I mean I love numerous books, but Nothing changed me. It’s written so well and the plot is fantastic. The fact that the author used children to be the main characters of such book, that is such a bold decision and she could have failed so many times...” you blurted out before being interrupted by Namjoon.  
“I know, right! It sends such a deep philosophical message! Gosh, I am so happy I found a fellow lover of Nothing. Most of my friends can’t really understand the book or just don’t read it, because they find it too tough. I hate it when people are afraid of reading books with philosophical messages, just because there isn’t any action or so!” Namjoon continued, gesturing around.  
“Namjoon-ah, did you find it?” a tired raspy voice asked with a slightly higher tone.
“Yeah, I found it” Namjoon waved his friend off with an eye-roll.
“Wait a minute”, you continued, pretty suspicious, “you said that Nothing is your favourite book and you reread it every month, but why are you buying another copy then?” your brows scrunched, thinking you had caught him in a lie.  
“I know that it sounds really dumb, but my roommate’s dog ruined it. You don't want to know about the argument we had afterwards. Thank God, the copy wasn’t signed or he would be dead.” Joon explained.  
“No, it’s fine, I got you. I have heard and seen this, numerous times,” you tried to laugh the situation off, feeling the conversation dying, hoping that Namjoon would say something else.  
“You have a dog?”  
“Oh, no, no, I don’t...”  
“A dog person?” He tried to guess.  
“More of a cat person actually.” you laughed, your eyes focusing on the slight smile on his lips.  
“Just like Jimin. He’s another one of my roommates, and he loves cats. Unfortunately, we hardly make time to take care of Yeontan”, that must be the dog, “what about another pet. But, you see, there is another one of my roommates, his name is Yoongi, and he kinda has some cat looks, so Jimin must be fine, I guess. Oh, I talk too much, sorry for being so annoying.” Namjoon got all shy again.  
“You’re not annoying, not at all. I can reassure you, you are a great person to talk to. But, with how many people do you live with? I mean, you have already mentioned three roommates and a dog.” you laughed slightly at the very end.  
“Well, I actually live in a dorm with my six members. We are in a group, like a musical group, like a boy band.” Namjoon explained again and again.  
“Yeah, I got it the first time.” you smirked.
“Goodness, I don't know what is happening to me, really, I am not like this usually.” Namjoon got all red and flustered.  
All shy and confused – was it because of you? Well, maybe not, but still you had to continue, the moment too alluring to overthink right now.  
“No worries, it’s cute, you're cute.”  
God, Y/n, shut up. Now that was a little too much.  
He smiled.  
Okay, a smile, a smile is good, not too promising, but good. Maybe he likes you, or at least thought that you weren't a weirdo or a psycho.  
Why were you thinking so much about it?  
“Have you picked up anything?” Namjoon asked.  
A book. Any book. Just pick one, Y/n!
You were in panic. Pure panic. Which book should you pick up? If you just pick any book, randomly, there is a very high chance that you will pick up a not well-written book, a bad one, about a certain uncomfortable theme or just a book, which he doesn’t like.
The thriller!  
“Yeah, there is one at the thriller corner, which caught my eye!”  
You weren’t lying. That resume of that book sounded promising and you wouldn’t mind buying it now, as you didn’t have any particular idea what you want to read.  
“Do you usually read thriller books?” he asked, leading you to the thriller corner.  
“I wouldn’t say so. You see, most of the time, I just want to read a certain type of book – sometimes I want to read something rather philosophical, sometimes I want to read fantasy, sometimes I look for historical novels. It depends on my mood, I guess.” you simply answered, trying not to sound indecisive.  
“Literally, same. I just don’t get it how people read the same type of books they whole lives. It’s like being at the same place your whole life.”  
Namjoon’s comment made you smile, he was so cute gesturing around.
You picked up the book. Just the thought of buying a book made you feel happy – a new world you can explore, new characters to meet. The same way people were excited before going on a vacation, you were when you were buying a book, and truly, there wasn’t anything more normal for you than that.  
“Stone Bruises by Simon Beckett. Interesting.” Namjoon murmured, peeking over your shoulder to see the title of the book.  
“Have you read it?” you asked, tuning over to meet his face, incredibly close to yours.  
“Never heard of it.” Joon giggled.  
“No matter what I do or where I go, I always see it, so, I guess, I should read it. It sounds promising.” you explained, turning your head back to the book, embarrassed by the closeness.  
“That might be your next favourite book then.” he mentioned, moving a little, so that he isn’t so close to you.  
“Oh, I don’t want to compare any other book to Nothing, I always end up disappointed afterwards” you laughed, heading to the pay desk.  
“I got you” he added, somewhat putting an end to your conversation.  
Oh, no.  
You didn’t want the conversation to end. It shouldn’t end. He was cool and smart and... God, so handsome. And even if you had no chance with him, at least you should try.  
You had nearly reached the pay desk, once you both pay for the books, you would go out of the bookstore and that was it. The end. He wouldn’t ask for your number, why would he, you hadn’t even spoken for a long time or flirted at all. And his friends? They would for sure start to make noise again. That was it. No chance. You couldn’t even come up with an idea what you should say, panicked and scared that you might say something incredibly stupid.  
“You have managed to make another one to buy Nothing!” the boy at the pay desk exclaimed.
“No, it is actually my favourite book too, I just need another copy” Namjoon laughed, showing off the book.  
This was the perfect chance to tell him something. About the book? No, he already knows everything, it’s his favourite...  
“So, Y/n has found a fellow Nothing fan then? Knowing how many people love this book, you might be soulmates.” the cashier teased, taking the book from Namjoon’s hands.  
Soulmates? Literally, he had to say that?  
You sent the boy behind the desk a very angry look, ready to say something to make the situation better, being interrupted by a loud thud.  
And, of course, his friends!  
“Yah, Park Jimin just don’t pick such big books with your small hands, you always end up dropping them. I am so tired of your messes, really!” the boy started by screaming, but was whining at the end, talking ever so fast.  
“Sorry, hyung...” another boy whispered.  
Namjoon left the pay desk, going to his friends, leaving you without giving you any time to say something.  
“Hyung, it wasn’t actually Jimin who made a mess.” Namjoon sighed.
“Ah, and how do you know? You weren’t even her-”  
“Would you stop screaming?” Namjoon cut him off, a few sighs following his words.
You couldn’t hear what Namjoon was exactly saying to his friends. You were just so disappointed in the fact that your conversation has ended like this, only being able to think about all the bright future you could have had with him if you had found something to tell him when you could. You paid for your book, your mood a bit parky after this development of the events, ready to continue with all the other stuff you had to do today.  
“Guys, this is Y/n. Y/n, these are some of my roommates – Jimin, Jin and Yoongi.”  
Dear Lord, these men were handsome!  
Jimin was a not so tall man with an angel-looking face, sinfully plump raspberry-pink lips adding to his beauty. His blue shirt did more than enough to show his bulked up upper body. He was carrying a small book in his hand, The Notebook in particular.  
On the other hand, there was Jin – tall, fit and exceptionally handsome, staring at you with deep brown eyes. His enormous shoulders made him look even hotter, while the cute Super Mario bag charm on his backpack was telling you about a rather childish and cite side of him.  
Last, but definitely not least, there was Yoongi, again, not so tall, a bit pale, but hot as hell, licking his small pink lips, while looking directly into your soul. Truly had some cat vibes going on. The headphones around his neck and his overall a bit baggy clothes didn’t let you know much about his figure, but you were already thinking about who exactly you were interested in, now as you have seen pretty much half of this band.  
“I’m Y/n!” you smiled, trying to empty your hand.  
“You speak Korean?” Jimin asked, his lips parted open, all pouty and cute.
“Yes, I actually live here” you said trying to put some more confidence into your voice.  
Then, again, as always, your conversation was interrupted. Now, by the barking of a dog outside.  
“Oh, Yeontan must be getting angry, we have left him for too long outside.” Namjoon said, gesturing to the other boys to get outside, while waving bye to the boy behind the pay desk.  
This for sure was a weird end.  
“Bye!” the cashier waved at you, smiling.  
You waved back, sighing. It wasn’t meant to end like this.  
You exited the bookstore, being met by the frisky wind of Seoul.  
“Y/n, wait a minute!”  
Namjoon?  
You turned around, hoping for the best.  
God was finally at your side.  
“I’m sorry that I got out so quickly, it’s just, we have to take extra care of Yeontan, he is a small dog, you know” Namjoon was about to start blabbering again.  
Just behind him, you saw Yoongi, Jin and Jimin and another three figures, all squatted down, surrounding a very sweet-looking dog.  
“Oh, yeah, I got you, no worries” you tried to laugh it off, being mesmerised by his looks, now that you can see him at light.  
“You see, I was hoping we can exchange numbers. So we can text and stuff like that. Or maybe KoalaTalk?”  
Damn, yes, God was at your side.  
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theawkwardterrier · 4 years
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Chill Book Recs
It’s a tense time (obvious) and for all those who are social distancing (which should be as many people as possible!!) as well as those who are out there keeping essential services running and caring for those who need it (thank you!!), sometimes we need a chance to relax with a book that’s somewhat low stakes. So I’ve put together some of my faves which are light and funny (and, not coincidentally, often romantic and/or tropey - not sorry!) for you to download as ebooks or audiobook, or order from a bookstore (especially recommend that you check if your local indies are still shipping, or look at Biblio, or the Bookstore at the End of the World collective). Not saying that all the selections below are without obstacle or issue, but I’ve tried to keep it pretty upbeat and noted what I can. Feel free to add your own faves like this, and happy reading!
(Sorry for the abundance of parentheses.)
(No, I’m not.)
Analee, In Real Life by Janelle Milanes (fake dating, MMORPG, Latinx MCs, own voices, family drama, YA)
Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins (boarding school, friends to romance, Paris, cancer cw, YA)
The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge by M.T. Anderson (humor, fantasy, enemies to friends, fantasy political intrigue, illustrations, confusion!, middle grade)
Attachments by Rainbow Rowell (semi epistolary, company approved spying, early 2000s, newspaper, best friendships, Getting Yourself Together, very good food descriptions, miscarriage cw, romance, adult)
Bet Me by Jennifer Crusie (enemies to romance, chicken marsala, a familial yikes but very good friends, did you adopt the cat or did the cat adopt you, snow globes, shoe descriptions, fat MC, this is my favorite romance tbh, adult)
The Bookshop on the Corner by Jenny Colgan (Scotland, power of books, side romance, small town, precariously balanced large vehicle, running your own small business, misunderstanding the role of libraries but I’ll overlook it, job loss cw, adult)
Bossypants by Tina Fey (humor, short chapters, memoir, “Mrs. Fey's change of life baby,” Jimmy Fallon getting owned, adult)
Boy Meets Girl by Meg Cabot (epistolary-ish, baking, complaining about NYC real estate, labor disputes, eating disorder cw, romance, adult)
The Calculating Stars by Mary Robinette Kowal (historical fiction/alternate history, math/physics/science, supportive husband, Jewish MC, awesome women, worldwide catastrophic event cw [I know but try it], side romances, adult) 
A Countess Below Stairs/The Secret Countess by Eva Ibbotson (historical fiction, WWI/Russian Revolution trauma cw, eugenics cw, quirkier Downton Abbey, romance, YA/adult) 
A Curious Beginning by Deanna Raybourn (historical mystery, side sexiness, butterflies, I keep talking about this series, adult)
Don't Date Rosa Santos by Nina Moreno (Gilmore Girls but make it Florida, Latinx MC and LI, bi MC, family curses, own voices, character death cw, romance, YA)
Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine (fantasy/fairy tale retelling, classic, curses, you’re allowed to like the movie I guess but read the book for real, romance, middle grade)
Evvie Drake Starts Over by Linda Holmes (small town Maine, overcoming past trauma, spousal death cw, depression cw, The Yips, friends to romance, adult) 
The Extremely Inconvenient Adventures of Bronte Mettlestone by Jaclyn Moriarty (fantasy, cool aunts, journeys, middle grade)
Faking It by Jennifer Crusie (con men/people, messy family, murder?/fleeing the scene/technically I’m homeless, delicious sounding muffins, art theft, romance, adult)
Field Notes on Love by Jennifer E. Smith (train journeys, sextuplets, romance, YA)
The First Rule of Punk by Celia C. Pérez (zines, music, Latinx MC, middle grade)
Heartstopper by Alice Oseman (graphic novel/available as a webcomic [@heartstoppercomic], cute, gay MC, bi MC, school uniforms, bullying cw, romance, YA)
How Not to Ask a Boy to Prom by S.J. Goslee (fake dating, gay, bad boy?, YA)
I Wanna Be Where You Are by Kristina Forest (dance, road trips, Black MC and LI, dog, parental death cw, own voices, enemies to romance, YA)
The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang (statistics, autism/Asperger’s, escort, Asian/biracial MC, family owned restaurant, own voices, romance, adult)
Louisiana's Way Home by Kate DiCamillo (quirky small town, funnier than she knows narrator, a little bittersweet, middle grade)
Lucky Caller by Emma Mills (radio programming, family drama, neighbors, banter, contest mistakes, romance, YA)
The Morning Gift by Eva Ibbotson (marriage of necessity, Holocaust/WWII cw, Jewish MC, scientific sheep, paleontology, quirky side characters, romance, YA/adult)
My Most Excellent Year by Steve Kluger (epistolary-esque, Boston, gay MC, Asian MC, Latinx MC, musical theater, friendships!, baseball, romance, YA)
The Next Great Paulie Fink by Ali Benjamin (multiple POV/semi-epistolary, new girl in school, contests, small town, middle grade)
The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang (graphic novel, fake fantasy but make it fashion, genderfluid MC, middle grade)
The Princess Bride by William Goldman (uncategorizable, funny, classic, fake politics, satiric genius is at its fullest flower, fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles, etc., YA/adult)
Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (politics, royal family, Texas, Latinx/biracial MC, bi MC, gay LI, everyone’s already talking about it but I listed it anyway, enemies to romance, adult)
The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend by Katarina Bivald (pen pals, small/rural town, translated, character death cw, power of books, side romance iirc, adult)
Roller Girl by Victoria Jamieson (graphic novel, roller derby, friendship, finding yourself, middle grade)
Sorcery & Cecelia, or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer (historical fantasy, Regency, cousins, side romances, estates, The Season, epistolary, middle grade/YA)
The Summer of Jordi Pérez (And the Best Burger in Los Angeles) by Amy Spalding (fashion, burger bros, lesbian MC, fat MC, queer LI, Latinx LI, own voices, romance, YA)
To All the Boys trilogy by Jenny Han (fake dating, baking, sisters, Asian MC, own voices, romance, YA [I mean, if you’ve seen the movies...])
To Night Owl from Dogfish by Holly Goldberg Sloan (epistolary, enemies to friends, matchmaking youth, gay dads, sleepaway camp, middle grade)
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ravenclawravings · 5 years
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I don't particulary like library. I prefer bookshop; when I read a book it has become mine.
I understand where you’re coming from, and it’s nice to be able to own a book, but don’t brush off how amazing libraries are! 
Your local library is a part of your community that you should support. People who couldn’t otherwise afford to read a book now have access to hundreds. I also know of people who couldn’t afford internet, and nowadays the only way to apply for a job is online. Those people spent hours in the library so that they could get a job. 
There are probably also events going on in your local library that you might find interesting! There’s almost always something going on there, and always someone there more than willing to help you with whatever you may need. 
My junior year of high school I spent a lot of time in my local library because I needed to do research for class, but the school library would close something like an hour after school was out, and I needed more time than that. At first I was nervous to ask the librarian for help, but she was always more than happy to help me, and take quite a bit of time doing it, too. 
I also have a habit of buying a book, reading it, and then never touching it again, leaving it on my shelf to build up dust. I’ve been working on giving away my books that I don’t read, and trying to only hold on to books that really mean the most to me (yes, I will be keeping my five copies of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s stone... don’t judge me). 
But, if you like owning your own books, and you don’t mind a copy with a little wear, I suggest thrift books. They have new and used books you can buy, and I believe they also sell textbooks if you’re in need of those. 
There’s definitely something magical about a bookstore, but libraries also have their own kind of magic! And there is so much more your library can do for you that I haven’t put in here. I hope you visit your local library soon, you might find something you like!
-Zoe 
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6 Books for Your Summer Reading List
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Summer is upon us and one of the things we most look forward to are slower days that allow for more reading time. Here, we caught up with Sarah Crossland, marketing and communications director at New Dominion Bookshop, for the books on her must-read list, from fiction and non-fiction to a cookbook and collection of poetry— plus a few local writers. So whether you’re lazing poolside of finding a shady spot under a tree, there’s a little something for everyone here.
The Lost Book of Adana Moreau By Michael Zapata “The Lost Book of Adana Moreau is the worthy heir to the best fiction of the early 2000s. If you loved Nicole Krauss’s The History of Love, Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, and Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s The Shadow of the Wind, this is the book for you. Set in both the 1920s and 2005 in New Orleans, the novel swirls around the story of Adana Moreau, a Dominican immigrant and science fiction novelist who dies at a young age and passes into obscurity. In vibrant, mesmerizing prose, Zapata leads us on an adventure into a mystery of the past.”
How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy By Jenny Odell “In true form, I have been too busy doing things to actually sit down and read How to Do Nothing, but it is at the top of my list for summer reading! Jenny Odell’s book breaks down the ways in which our attention has been infinitesimally divied up over time, and what we can actually do to recapture the brain space necessary to feel present in our lives again. Odell sees “the attention economy” as political and “doing nothing” as a kind of protest. She offers real-world solutions for a pervasive problem. Plus, have you ever seen a prettier book cover?”
Deacon King Kong By James McBride “I can’t tell you how satisfying it was to open up James McBride’s new novel—his first since his National Book Award winner, The Good Lord Bird—and find a new world just as engrossing and absurd. Set in the late 1960s in a housing project in Brooklyn, Deacon King Kong is full of ghosts and mobsters, sinners and supplicants. McBride’s storytelling is as intricate as a stained glass window. After the shooting that opens the novel, each chapter spirals out with characters so real, it feels like they could be sitting right beside you.”
Pie Squared: Irresistibly Easy Sweet & Savory Slab Pies By Cathy Barrow “Every month this year, I’ve been making a new slab pie from Cathy Barrow’s innovative cookbook Pie Squared. What is a slab pie, you ask? It’s basically regular pie’s cooler, sloppier cousin, baked in a standard 9x13 sheet pan. The recipes are forgiving and insanely delicious. One of my favorites, the Cheesy Cauliflower Rarebit Slab Pie, uses a toasty rye crust. Another, the Ham and Gruyere Slab Pie, is out of this world if you fill it with Edwards Virginia ham. Cathy Barrow’s recipes have definitely been one of the highlights of my year!”
Half By Sharon Harrigan “Sharon Harrigan’s debut novel, Half, has a fascinating conceit: it’s the story of identical twin girls, told through their collective perspective, as they look back on their lives from the vantage point of their father’s funeral. Author Porter Shreve has called it “a high-wire act of a novel” and author Bonnie Jo Campbell writes that it is “mesmerizing, a bright and inventive novel like no other.” Harrigan lives here in Charlottesville, and New Dominion Bookshop is partnering with local nonprofit WriterHouse for a virtual event with her this July. More details here!”
White Blood By Kiki Petrosino “Even if you don’t normally read poetry, Kiki Petrosino’s poetry collection White Blood should be on your reading list this summer. Petrosino graduated from the University of Virginia, and her deft, pulse-quickening poems examine our landscape, history, and university through her experiences as a Black, feminist woman. In one poem about the enslaved people who lived, worked, and died at Monticello, Petrosino writes, “I live in language / on land they left.” These are haunting poems that you will come back to again and again.”
To order books through New Dominion Bookshop, please send your order as an email to [email protected] or call the shop at 434-295-2552 during business hours (M-F: 9:30 AM to 5:00 PM, Sat: 9:30 AM to 3:00 PM, Sun: Closed). The shop is currently offering curbside pickup, contactless home delivery (within 5 miles of the shop), and shipping (normal rates apply). Shop local and support your community bookstore!
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s-petals-blog · 5 years
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“Um it’s ok, if you like that kind of work?”
“What kind of work? “ he half smiled at the youthful bookstore employee, inviting him to elaborate.
As the rain started he had run to the nearest shelter. The fact that it was a small independent bookshop that smelt right was a balm. The day had been difficult- the editorial meeting a little testier than expected. Although he liked being a writer sometimes being a reader was what he craved.
It had been too long since he’d had the pleasure of browsing for pleasure. Too many kindle books and not enough touching pages cut, milled and printed. He’d headed to the fiction shelves first and as the drumming of the storm grew louder, he had found himself lounging in an old chair, all groans and wrinkles, and whiling a few mindless hours away.
Now it was 5:15 and time for him to head off. He couldn’t resist stopping at the bestseller shelf looking -for all intents and purposes - like a browsing shopper.
It was in close proximity to the counter, and the lovely young man behind it. Who’d been tapping on his phone unheard until the rain died down, who now looked up at Armie looking at the number 1 novel on display.
Who now piped up with an uninvited lukewarm appraisal of the best selling novel with Armie’s pseudonym on it.
“What kind would that be?” he enquired again, as he critically registered the shabby bookstore had been largely deserted for the past 2 hours. The only person he’d really noticed was this clear skinned employee. He looked like a hipster- skinny jeans, a little too big for him, earsbuds in amongst his glowing brown curls and an energy drink in front of him.
“Well, the kind that makes you think the author needed a better editor.” His badge said Timothée.
“Really?” Armie was all smiles now. A little baiting was inevitable.
“So Timothée, are you a writer? No don’t tell me, a lecturer at a writing school?” Armie postulated smoothly. Slight mockery tinging his questions.
“Nah, I’m a pianist with a jazz trio. This is my family’s bookstore and my Mom had an appointment so...” Timothée trailed off, glancing down at the floor. There wasn’t any guile in his answer. This wasn’t your typical snarky New Yorker. And...He was pretty. The prettiest thing in the store.
“I mean he’s an intriguing writer , but his 1st book was amazing.” He strode over to the shelves Armie had just come from. Armie watched him bend over to pick a very familiar cover up from the bottom shelf. Black jumper, gold buttons from the neck down the back to his....he shook his head. Maybe he shouldn’t be checking out people in their place of work?
Timothée slapped his novella into his hands and launched into a frantic paced monologue. “This was really cool. The premise is everyday science fiction, but he writes as if he understands what kills you about everyday. It’s so-what-you’re-thinking-but-cannot-say. And it’s a weirdly old fashioned adventure type premise. So much better than this ...this...” he shuddered in distaste “ mediocrity!” He pronounced it with a flourish of revulsion.
Armie laughed, ego pricking forgotten.
“Do you want me to sign your copy?” he offered, taking a slow long look up and down. Fuck checking people out at their place of work. This was the most fun he’d had all week.
“As a mediocre writer of science fiction who needs a better editor, I’m happy to sign your copies if it’ll help improve the turnover for your Mom,” he offers smoothly.
Timmy blinks. Opens his mouth. Mumbles ,” No it’s ok. I mean. Are you ACH Julevich?” Armie gets it so he’s not offended. At 6’5” he looks like Jack Reacher not an author, let alone your stereotypical sci-fi author.
“Nope, I’m Armand Hammer the third. My friends call me Armie. That’s my pseudonym and I’m pretty sure Ric, my editor at Doubleday won’t be too pleased when I tell him he’s being called mediocre.”
Timmy blushes. Genuinely looks embarrassed and sooo pretty. Armie can’t resist.
“Wanna buy me a drink so we can talk about how I can support my local neighbourhood book store?”
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