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plopspoodle · 9 months

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10 Book Recommendations

Hey! A very common thing in this motivation/positivity community is to encourage reading, however sometimes you may not know where to start. Perhaps you loved reading when you were younger but haven't read in a while; perhaps you only ever read books when you had to for book reports/school; perhaps you read all the time and want some recommendations! No matter what the scenario, here's what I have read and why people may also like these books.

Lil disclaimer before you go through my recommendations, some of these will be familiar to you if you have done English GCSE and A-Levels in the UK! My favourite genres are dystopian and southern gothic however there are other genres in here that I like reading. Each book will have a trigger warning as all of them have sensitive topics. Please read with caution.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: abuse, suicide, alcohol consumption, car accident 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 15/16+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Tradegy/Modernism/Roaring 20's 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: The Great Gatsby, Third novel by American author F. Scott Fitzgerald, published in 1925. Set in Jazz Age New York, it tells the tragic story of Jay Gatsby, a self-made millionaire, and his pursuit of Daisy Buchanan, a wealthy young woman whom he loved in his youth, narrated by Nick Carraway. 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 9/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: I read this in my English Language/Literature A-Level at 17 (got an A, well done me), and I fell in love. Gatsby is often hailed as a masterpiece of the 20th century and I completely agree, and I recommend it to anyone regardless of their preferred genres. Only reason it's not a 10 is because occasionally the characters don't make sense, but I don't necessarily mean that at the fault of Fitzgerald. Just be warned, you won't like the characters (at least by the end of the book).

1984 by George Orwell

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: gaslighting, sexually explicit scenes, torture, limited human rights, authoritarian regime 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 16+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Dystopian/Science Fiction/Political 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: 1984 is the story of a man questioning the system that keeps his futuristic but dystopian society afloat and the chaos that quickly ensues once he gives in to his natural curiosity and desire to be free. 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 10/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: This was the second book I ever read on my own. Granted, I read it at 13 (under the age I recommend), but that was more because I had a thing for reading "banned books", so only read it if you can cope with mature themes. It's very well written, as is anything by Orwell, and it holds true and very threatening warnings of what our future holds. Sadly, like A Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, it was written with the intention of things being possible but not imminent. Now? It isn't as far from fiction as one would hope.

Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: (so many) attempted murder, child abuse, death, incest, poisoning, rape, religion, sexually explicit scene (one), starvation, neglect 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 17/18+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Horror/Southern Gothic 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: Blond, beautiful, innocent, and struggling to stay alive... They were a perfect family, golden and carefree—until a heart-breaking tragedy shattered their happiness. Now, for the sake of an inheritance that will ensure their future, the children must be hidden away out of sight, as if they never existed. 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 7.5/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: This is a very hard book to read. I do not recommend reading this if you are under 18 or are not in a good state of mind. As you can see, there are a LOT of trigger warnings. I also think it's important to know that whilst these topics are in the book, it does not glamorise them. If you are the type of person that thinks Vladimir Nabokov is a p*do because of writing Lolita, you will not understand this book. It tackles a very complex subject and overall has a message that if something is "bad" you should not encourage it but you should not also shield it: you should explain it to the person/people at risk so they understand. That is the most important thing about the book. It WILL make you feel uncomfortable. If you can't handle that, do not read the book (harshness is needed). My rating is 7.5 because the final chapter (epilogue) is awful and feels it's written by another writer, and it really slogs through at various points (with reason, but it just makes it that bit harder to read).

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: ableism & ableist language, alcohol consumption, body horror, death, murder 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 13+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Gothic Horror 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: Dr Jekyll is a kind, well-respected and intelligent scientist who meddles with the darker side of science, as he wants to bring out his 'second' nature. He does this through transforming himself into Mr Hyde - his evil alter ego who doesn't repent or accept responsibility for his evil crimes and ways. 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 7/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: I attempted to read this when I was 11 but gave up because the language is very difficult to understand sometimes. It was written in 1886 and uses a lot of old/Victorian English, so I was only really able to re-read it at 14 for my GCSE. Being able to analyse the language actually made it easier to read, so if you want to read this I do advise you to take your time and to be prepared to make notes. Overall it is a good story and a good book, but there are parts that feel disjointed and, other than the main characters of Jekyll and Hyde, I don't find it that memorable. I remember it was good, but I don't completely remember why.

Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: racism & racial slurs, homophobia, suicide, alcohol consumption, recreational drug use (smoking), emesis (being sick), gun violence, depression/life uncertainty 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 14+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Bildungsroman, coming of age 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: The novel details two days in the life of 16-year-old Holden Caulfield after he has been expelled from prep school. Confused and disillusioned, Holden searches for truth and rails against the “phoniness” of the adult world. 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 10/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: Catcher in the Rye is a very good yet odd book. I found when I read it (for the first time), it was kind of boring. And yet, I kept reading. There's something about the way Holden narrates that feels relevant to you but you can't pinpoint what it is. Even though I've put the age rating of 14+, the ideal age to read this book is between 14-21, essentially any young age when you are being faced with new, adult choices. The book is also pretty timeless: yes, some of the language is outdated along with some attitudes, but overall you could imagine this at any point in time (1920's, 1960's, now) and it would still work. That is a very incredible feat for a writer. And I haven't even talked about the artistry in this book! I am a bit of a h*e for symbolism, and all I have to say about the symbolism in Catcher in the Rye is this: the ducks. Remember the ducks. :)

Lord of the Flies by William Golding

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: racism, blood & gore, death, plane crash, animal death, tribalism (due to survival), child abuse (by other children) 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 13+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Survival Horror, Psychological Thriller 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: When a group of schoolboys are stranded on a desert island, what could go wrong? A plane crashes on a desert island. The only survivors are a group of schoolboys. By day, they discover fantastic wildlife and dazzling beaches, learning to survive; at night, they are haunted by nightmares of a primitive beast. 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 8/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: This is, once again, a book I read at school. I think I read this at 13, though it is often pushed as a book to read once you're able to read bigger words - child advice, don't do that. Being able to read words doesn't mean you can or should understand them. Whilst the book features children as the characters, it's not really for children, and is much more aimed at adults and the theme of innocence. It is a good book, but unfortunately I can't give much reason why as I haven't read it since the last time.

A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: strong physical and sexual violence, rape, domestic abuse, alcoholism, mental health issues (psychosis, hallucinations, compulsive lying, primarily Schizo-affected symptoms) 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 16+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Southern Gothic, Play 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: Fading southern belle Blanche DuBois is adrift in the modern world. When she arrives to stay with her sister Stella in a crowded, boisterous corner of New Orleans, her delusions of grandeur bring her into conflict with Stella's crude, brutish husband Stanley Kowalski. 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 7.5/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: To start with, I don't really like reading plays, and I had to read this for A-Level. That being said, it is very well written. I usually have more of a problem of the people who read/watch's reaction rather than the play itself. It is meant to be a very tragic tale of what happens to those who are mentally ill and don't get support, but instead people very often label the main character as "crazy" (as an insult) and "a bad person" whilst labelling the man in the gif underneath as "misunderstood" and "hot". Abuse is obviously a very difficult subject, and Tennessee Williams deliberately chose Marlon Brando to portray the character he does in order to show how people take advantage of their natural assets to take advantage of others. Like with Flowers in the Attic, if you are someone who only likes reading the surface and not in between the lines, I do not recommend this. If you are, like me, someone who loves symbolism, this is the story for you!

An Inspector Calls by J. B. Priestley

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: suicide, upper class priveledge, alcohol, gaslighting 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 14+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Modern Morality Play, Drama 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: The action of the play occurs in an English industrial city, where a young girl commits suicide and an eminently respectable British family is subject to a routine inquiry in connection with the death. An inspector calls to interrogate the family, and during the course of his questioning, all members of the group are implicated lightly or deeply in the girl's undoing. The family, closely knit and friendly at the beginning of the evening, is shown up as selfish, self-centered or cowardly, its good humor turning to acid, and good fellowship to dislike, before the evening is over. The surprising revelation, however, is in the inspector… 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 6/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: I don't personally like this play a whole deal, mainly as it is (again) a play and something I had to read at GCSE. That being said, it is quite fun. I've put the age range as 14+ because while the trigger warnings aren't as strong as previous entries, a decent knowledge on the time period and context is needed in order to understand this properly. I personally dislike the ending, and I think the tone is quite inconsistent, but I still think it's a good play, and a very good introduction to plays if you are wanting to read more.

Animal Farm by George Orwell

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: animal abuse, murder, death, suicide, violence, authoritarian regime, communism 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 13/14+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Dystopian Political Satire 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: When the downtrodden animals of Manor Farm overthrow their master, Mr Jones, and take over the farm themselves, they imagine it is the beginning of a life of freedom and equality. But gradually a cunning, ruthless elite among them, masterminded by the pigs Napoleon and Snowball, starts to take control. Soon the other animals discover that they are not all as equal as they thought, and find themselves hopelessly ensnared as one form of tyranny is replaced with another. Orwell's chilling 'fairy story' is a timeless and devastating satire of idealism betrayed by power and corruption. 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 9/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: This is the first book I ever read on my own! As you can probably tell from this being the second book by George Orwell on this list, I love his writing. He had such skill for these dystopian topics and the phrase "all animals are equal, but some are more equal than others" will forever be etched in my brain. Whilst I hail it so highly, I haven't put a 10 merely because of the ending. It reminds you that it is a political satire so I understand, I just wish it went a bit differently.

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

𓆩♡𓆪 TW: ableism, misogyny, alcohol consumption, recreational drug use (smoking), murder, gun violence, animal death, the Great Depression (economic hard times) 𓆩♡𓆪 Age Range: 13+ 𓆩♡𓆪 Genre: Social Realism, Tragedy 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: An unlikely pair, George and Lennie, two migrant workers in California during the Great Depression, grasp for their American Dream. They hustle work when they can, living a hand-to-mouth existence. For George and Lennie have a plan: to own an acre of land and a shack they can call their own. 𓆩♡𓆪 Personal Rating: 8/10 𓆩♡𓆪 Notes: Good book, had to read it in Year 9 for school. Pretty sure it's one of those books where the teacher reads out the n-word because it's "educational", but disregarding that it is a good read and a very important view into the lives of those during the Great Depression and how people with disabilities go through life.

And that's all my recommendations for now!

I may have more in the future as these aren't the only books I've read, but I think they're a good introductory look into what I like and what I hope others would like. Also, though I don't always seem like it, I don't really have a problem with readers who don't like reading deeply in between the lines. It's absolutely fine if you want to just read it as you go, I just personally am naturally analytical. However, I would recommend that if you are one of those people, please listen to those who talk about the deeper themes of what you're reading. A lot of books and authors are misunderstood by those who want to believe life is black and white; good and bad. Life is complex, and so are stories. The beauty is finding your favourite shade of grey. As long as it's not 50 shades. That I don't know if I can condone.

#kpop #kpop moodboard #wonyoungism #coquette #motivation #positivity #reading #books #book recommendations

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orphanage-body · 2 years

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Hi 👋

1, 4, 6, 12, 15 and 19 for the book ask

Hey you! Thanks for the ask! 😁

1. book you've reread the most times?

Definitely my dad's collection of Astérix and Boule & Bill comics. I've read those so much when I was younger. Other than that, I'm not really a rereader of books. Special mention tho: The Ocean at the End of the Lane, which I've read twice in the span of a year. This book b r o k e me.

4. what sections of a bookstore do you browse?

Comics (french BDs and US comic books), mangas, sci-fi, fantasy, historical fiction, classics, the english section (if they have one). Not necessarily in that order. Oh, and I have that thing where I look at the books I already own, or I look for the ones I plan on buying one day, like I'm judging the bookstore's good tastes.

6. what books have you read in the past month?

You say "bookS" as if I wasn't the slowest motherfucker out there. I'm rereading 1984 by George Orwell (yeah I know what I said in my first answer, but it's different, I read that book for the first time 10 years ago). I've also read one or two Watchmen comics (the new edition in 12 volumes), and one or two Detective Conan.

12. did you enjoy any compulsory high school readings?

Yeah, I enjoyed most of them (except Le Père Goriot by Balzac, and De Gaulle's Mémoires (never went past the first chapter of that one)), I was an avid reader back then. I don't remember them all, but I remember I particularly liked Tous les matins du monde by Quignard, and À la lumière d'hiver by Jaccottet (programme du bac de litté 2012 rpz).

15. recommend and review a book

Uuuhhh I'm so bad at this. Okay, huh. I don't even know what to recommend? I already talked about my favorite book, The Ocean... Hey, you know what? I'll do The Ocean. So, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, by Neil Gaiman. I love this book so much, you don't even know. It's about a middle-aged man, the narrator, who comes back to his childhood town after his dad's funeral. His steps lead him to a farm nearby, and as the woman living there invite him to sit in front of the pond behind the farm, he unlocks some forgotten memories from his childhood, and the time he spent with the ageless girl who used to live on the farm, her mother, and her grandmother, who pretended she witnessed the creation of the moon. I love Gaiman's books (the 3 I've read so far, at least), because it's not fantasy set in a fantasy world, it's set in an ordinary world, in which the main character lives an ordinary life, until magic comes into their life, turning their world upside down.

Fun fact about this book: I first read it in Finland, when I got a library card (I had read and loved Good Omens and was curious about reading more books by Gaiman and Pratchett, and stumbled upon The Ocean). And it broke me. It was so good. And heart-wrenching. Several months later, I buy the (gorgeous) illustrated version of this book, and decide to reread it. And you know what? Much like the main character, I had forgotten about the ending. So when I read it again, it broke me some more. Anyway, that rec is wayyyyy too long, but if you haven't, you should read it (but maybe you have, since you've read other stuff by Gaiman). Also Gaiman says this one is 90% autobiographical.

19. most disliked popular books?

Idk, I'm not a hater of books, I'm a non-reader of books I'm not interested in (also, I tend to not read a particular book when the hype is big, like I wait for it to calm down or I don't read it at all). Gotta say tho, HP lives a sour taste in my mouth now, obviously. Sometimes writers need to shut the fuck up.

#ask thingy

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bloodpen-to-paper · 2 years

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In honor of Book Lovers Day, I shall rank the three books I’ve read so far this year, going from best to least favorite (its only three cause I’m a slow reader and just recently got back into reading)

1 - “1984″ - George Orwell: I’m big on philosophy, politics and history so this was #1 by a long shot; I personally loved the writing style, though it can be a bit dense with information (books written before the 2000s tend to be); I would note that Orwell was cringe when it came to writing about women (trigger warning for brief mentions of r*pe on pages 15 and 120), but I definitely recommend for anyone interested in those topics I listed

2 - “One Last Stop” - Casey McQuiston: I haven’t actually finished this one yet, but based on what I’ve read it starts off a bit slow but picks up as the story goes. The book is very modern and relies on pop-culture references more garnered towards millennials. More of a relaxed and very human writing style that fits what you as a person might think and say on a regular basis. The MC has yet to win me over but some of the one liners and great, and its a book with queer main characters/romances.

3 - “Coraline” - Neil Gaiman: If you’ve seen the Coraline movie but haven’t yet read the book, I’d definitely try not to compare the two too much or you might end up a bit disappointed. The movie is definitely more whimsical, and personally I found the writing style a bit dull and dreary; it has a lot of description on the environment but in a way that didn’t really interest me (might be different for you though); writing picks up more towards the second half, and its a short read so good for if you want a book that’s not too overwhelming

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus: Webtoon Edition

(not ranking these since I haven’t finished any of them, just giving general reviews)

“Heartstopper” - Alice Oseman: very heartwarming romance that heavily revolves around queerness and homophobia; diverse in both racial and LGBT identities; can get very angsty as it addresses some depressing themes, but it represents those themes well and is mostly very sweet and wholesome (sidenote: Netflix has one season of a show adaption of Heartstopper that is pretty good if you’re interested!)

“Wayne Family Adventures” - DC Comics (via various artists/writers listed on the site): for all the Batfamily fans that want a break from the gritty and dark nature of the comics; slice-of-life that revolves around the members of the Batman franchise having light-hearted hijinks, with the occasional angst that delves into life lessons; love this one in particular cause it actually puts a spotlight on more than just the four most well-known “batbros” and gives some love to the others in the family; highly recommend for any Batman fans that come across this post (not because you’re a Batman fan, but because you’re on Tumblr)

“Get Schooled” - Yongtaek Chae, Garam Han: omfg I love this webtoon so much. Its literally about a guy who beats the shit out of high schoolers. That’s it. But its so funny (and surprisingly depthful); I could go on and on about how this comic is more comedic but tends to nail the more serious aspects of the story, as well as the politics; great world building, and one of the only pieces of media I’ve seen that addresses themes like child abuse the way it does; also if you’re interested in men and women that are scary and could beat the shit out of you in the way that makes you attracted to them, I’d give this a go ;)

“Boyfriends” - refrainbow: episodic slice-of-life that is diverse in LGBT identities, as well as a great read for representation of healthy polyamorous relationships; mostly very light hearted and low stakes; its like when you get candy on Halloween and just keep eating it up without a care in the world

“Study Group” - Hyungwuk Shin, Seungyeon Ryu: very typical Korean “bullied guy fights bullies” comic; love the artstyle though, and it can be pretty funny (I am also in love with the teacher character, she is so fucking gender); its one of my guilty pleasures

“Coffin Jackson” - CTK: I LOVE THIS ONE; subverted my expectations of being a super serious and gritty comic by being quite comedic and light-hearted (mind you it is still gritty and dark, just not all the time). The main characters have my heart, and the artstyle is something I want to put under a microscope and study like some freaky little scientist trying to understand color theory

“Fictional Skin” - Kris Nguyen: the one I read through the least; seems pretty easy-going so far, and Vivi is a character I enjoy a lot; from what I’ve seen, the plot will pick up into more exciting themes as the story goes, but its mostly just really cute

“Everything Is Fine” - Mike Birchall: a very normal comic where everyone is perfectly happy and easy-going; the characters are all content; nothing bad ever happens; nothing is wrong in this world; Everything Is Fine :)

“Vibe Check!” - Ucheomaaa: I literally don’t even know how to explain this one just go read it if you wanna laugh at obscure and weird internet humor

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mariacallous · 2 years

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As a civil servant in the 1980s, I had a front row seat as the British government began to lose touch with reality. Since then, things have only got worse

by Simon Petherick

Six years after Margaret Thatcher became prime minister, I got a job as a writer at a strangely dysfunctional government department called the Central Office Of Information. Even though I lived in a squat, had the socialist historian EP Thompson’s Protest and Survive on my bookshelf and had been an organiser for a miners’ support group during the 1984 strike – when we put up some of the miners’ families during visits to London for marches, they found our earnest wholegrain lifestyle utterly ridiculous – I thought it was OK to join the COI for a number of reasons. Dylan Thomas and Somerset Maugham had worked for it during the war, for a start, and I considered myself to be a “writer”, too, even though the only thing I’d had published was a 20,000-word guidebook to Edinburgh under the imposed pseudonym of Elspeth Mackintosh (my own surname too clearly Cornish for a book on Scotland).

But the main reason I joined was that I discovered during the application process that the department’s role was to issue information that was not beholden to any political party. The COI was not Margaret Thatcher’s loudhailer, my new bosses told me; she had to use the Conservative party’s own funds for that. Our job was to describe clearly and objectively to the British people what it was that the government was doing. I liked that. I’d read George Orwell’s 1946 essay Politics and the English Languageand I was filled with notions around the democratisation of language. Having spent the past three years writing blurbs for a small publisher (the books were westerns: “Peace wouldn’t reign in Vulture valley until six gunshots rang in the air!”), I was intrigued by the idea of cold truth set out in type. I thought I could learn my trade, and I was right about that at least. Also, I thought, Thatcher would soon be replaced by a Labour government and everything would be rosy.

By the time I left, seven years later, the COI was no longer the sole arbiter of what was and what wasn’t “objective information”. During the years they employed me, Thatcher had eroded this notion so effectively that we COI writers had little or no authority left. Advertising and public relations and lobbying agencies now clustered around Number 10 like flies over treacle, and the idea of truth had evaporated. Something got lost in those years. It is difficult to imagine the administrations of Tony Blair, David Cameron, Boris Johnson and Liz Truss without the preparatory demolition of the foundations that Thatcher carried out. Never again would our governments allow us the dignity of knowing the facts and drawing our own conclusions from them.

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ginevralinton · 2 years

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10, 12, 20 for the book ask

thank you for asking ♡♡♡

10. do you have a guilty fav?

hmm, not sure i consider any of my favourite guilty, but i do admit i really enjoyed The Pursued and the Pursuing by AJ Odasso, which is essentially Gatsby fanfic, and I'm not sure I'd want to explain that to my family 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

12. did you enjoy any compulsory high school readings?

yes! i enjoyed quite a number of them, including:

Animal Farm by George Orwell - this actually inspired me to read 1984, which got me back into reading anything besides re-reads. I think it showed me that i was ready for adult fiction and that there was a lot more out there besides YA, which at the time was all felt like 'books-with-a-Twilight-vibe' which just wasn't my thing.

Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare - Benvolio and Mercutio were my faves - and my guinea pig is now called Benvolio!!

Poems by Carol Ann Duffy - still think about 'Dream of a Lost Friend' and 'Wintering' sometimes

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck - this was my obsession, my main interest, the thing that took hold of my mind at 15/16. i got invited to this fancy school in my local area to do gcse revision days and i refused to go to the science ones, but was kind of ridiculously excited to go to the english one to have a full day dedicated to this book. it obviously has it's issues, but i still love it 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald- one of my A Level texts, that again, i became a bit obsessed with. i find it an intriguing, atmospheric book and i really like Nick's narration. lots to pick apart there.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge - eerie with so many great lines.

Robert Frost poetry - very readable, and 'Stopping by a Snowy Woods', ' The Draft Horse', 'Apple Picking' and 'Out Out' still echo in my head.

Dr Faustus by Christoper Marlowe -possibly my favourite play, maybe?

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë - one of my favourites that ive re-read an embarrassing amount of times. isabella linton is my fave ♡♡ this got me into Victorian literature and the Brontës too ♡

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley - my obsession and pretty much one of the few things that got me through final year of school. Such a brilliant and heart breaking book that has so much to think about within it, is beautifully written and is so layered. Henry Clerval is my fave!

20. what are things you look for in a book?

I think some things i look out for are: good characters, an interesting narrative voice, beautiful writing, not too action packed, unhinged characters 🤷🏼‍♀️, lgbtq themes, texts that you can pick apart and analyse, ones that are set at least predominantly in the "real world" (magical realism, a little supernatural, gothic etc is all good, but high-fantasy and heavy sci-fi just aren't for me)

Thanks again for asking!!

#wow im sorry this got so long winded and rambling #books

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heavenknowsffs · 2 years

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BOOK RECS ASK GAME: 1, 10, 14, 16, 18, 28, 42, 50, 51, 52, 53, 60, 65, 66, 134, 135

thank you!

a book that is close to your heart

The Perks of Being a Wallflower, has been my fave book since i first read it

10. a book that got you through something

yeah the same as the previous question 😅

14. a book that made you trip on literary acid

The Trial by Franz Kafka like what the FUCK man

16. a book you’d recommend to your younger self

There's this book about periods and menstruation that was released very recently in Portugal and i got it for my cousin and... i just wish so so much i had such a positive book in my life back then about that subject. It's called Período by Patrícia Lemos and it's so pretty

(also the heartstopper series)

18. your least favorite book ever

Os Maias by Eça de Queirós do not show it to me ever

28. a book you wish you could read as a beginner again

maybe Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

42. a book that made you want to scream by the time you got to the end

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green i was really young when i read it and in that romance phase ajdkjlas

50. a book that made you cry a LOT

The previous one mentioned for the same reasons but also Midnight Library by Matt Haig because my dog had just died when i read it

51. a book that you found underwhelming

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik

Wool by Hugh Howey

52. a popular book/series that you love

Harry Potter, sorry, that series got me through a lot and gave me back my enjoyment for reading which i had lost in my depression so

53. a popular book/series that you hate

Fifty Shades of Grey 100%

60. (already answered)

65. a book that scared the crap out of you

Misery by Stephen King is the only "scary" book i read ahah

66. a book that fucked you up

Ensaio Sobre a Cegueira (Blindness) by José Saramago, READ IT AT YOUR OWN RISK (it's incredible though)

134. unreccomend any book you like!

I would say 1984 by George Orwell if you're conservative because you will NOT understand it and will make stupid remarks about communism online

135. recommend any book you like!

Super recommend The Midnight Libraby by Matt Haig and Blindness bby José Saramago but i must advise you should be in a healthy mental headspace before you delve into any of them

#or be like me and cry while reading both #whatever experience you would prefer #sorry for slightly traumadumping on all of you #thank you for the asks lovely!#ask game

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fuckandfable · 8 months

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sad-istic 💋

You know I punish myself for having this ungrateful episodes of manic sadness and bleak perception. They fill me with no color. They are silent black and white films, where you were mustering in your seat, sitting there thinking “what if they could talk?” With big dreamy eyes while you imagine yourself living a life something along these astronomical margins and lines. Yes, I punish myself for not being alive while alive but someone tell me what the fuck is “alive?” Who defines it. And who decided all the words and definitions in the fucking dictionary? It doesn’t matter because words have been massively murdered in the last few centuries. I read enough Kafka, Path and Poe to know that language has fucking died and we are speaking in “new speak” - a reference from George Orwell’s book 1984, at least with every generation. Culture is changing and changing and changing. The margins continue to get bigger in some areas while it takes away from others.

I asked myself this morning- “ I wonder what the world would be like if women were to rule all of those centuries?” A lot fucking different. I would bet my reincarnation on it. We wouldn’t need to invite all democratic leaders from around the world to see the army we built, parading the streets for four hours straight. Yeah that’s some man shit.

I found myself trying to look straight today. No crooked thinking. No real need redirect today. Feeling sorry for myself looks very much like standing with my arms wide open and letting it all hit me like some power force wind. Bitter emotions eat me alive literally. But if this is what happiness looks like, then today I am happy. Because happiness is gonna look the way I say it looks. No one determines what makes me happy but me. Fuck being nice. I will kindly counteroffer with my actually happiness from now on. Redirecting that person instead of me. Using my words beautifully. Let it not turn into something decaying inside of me.

At the end of the day I’m just a spoiled little girl rich with emotion, and I hate when I feel poor, but I have mistaken peace for poverty. I never lose my value when I feel “poor,” I know that now, but sometimes I forget it in the moment. There is something so present about sadness. It keeps you in this fully aware stage of present moment. I never stop to think about what I’m feeling when I am happy, excited, eager, willing. Never! I just FEEL IT. sadness? Nah that really gets you standing at attention. Guarding yourself. Pacing back and forth in your mind until the day is gone and the street light becomes an indicator that you’re still in the same fucking position. I laugh now, but it’s incredibly intimate experience with yourself. The most intimacy you can have really. That’s why people don’t know the difference between romantic and intimate. Intimate is feeling, romantic is doing. People want to feel one another much deeper than the flesh. They want the insides of themselves to touch. People want to open the vast void of nothingness they spend so much time in hoping to god that you like it just as much as they do.

Difficult? Well, yes, humans are weak, I will always resort to this answer. It has been indirectly taught as a weakness because it never really got us anywhere productive or profitable in society. Do you see? I’m so happy I have all my energy to give to me. That also makes me happy. Are we writing these things down? Are we feeling these things? Something easy for us to gain?

I’m ready to stay in my lane. I’m ready to move in pure love and pure trust. I will be intimate with me. I will open myself to the plethora of beauty that surrounds me DAILY. I will touch the colors and let them fill my body with wonder. I will restore sad places with love. I will restore conditions with unconditional affection.

Today I feel like such an unconventional woman. I am way more woman than I think. I am way more woman than I thought. I am a woman who can challenge a man where I see fit. I am a woman who can hear a man where I see fit. I am a woman who respects and admires the differences between men and women.

The world needs more open women.

I love you mon coeur, you’re such a good listener *pats head* I love when you look at mommy like that, sucha good little void ✨😍😘💭

-x

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khodorkovskaya · 1 year

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so i was looking for an exercise for my lesson with lucien the other day and i was looking thru my documents and stumbled upon this little story i wrote last year when i was procrastinating studying for exams lol. i don't remember if i posted it on here already but i read it again and it's so funny!

and btw fun facts: tania is my london bestie, ira is my manchester bestie, daisy is my oxford bestie. and i just realised that when tania talks about her first kiss she's talking about my zurich friend! the gangs all here lol. but yeah, hope you guys enjoy this fun little story about how 15 yr old me realised she was gay.

It felt like a ritual.

I remember sitting on the floor of my bedroom, surrounded by my schoolbooks and scrunched up pieces of paper, 1984 by George Orwell in my hands and my diary, in the middle of it all, negligently open at some random page filled with black-ink scribbles.

The History exam was coming up and the most efficient way to organise the chaos of my notes, according to my 15-year-old self was to, of course, dump it all on the floor, and sort it into piles. The pile by my bed would be for the chapter on Hitler’s rise to power, the one by the window for the Arab-Israeli conflict and the one by the book shelf would be the pile of scrap notes I would eventually throw in the bin. The sorting was off to a good start, but, soon after emptying all my folders, my drowsy mind wondered away and I could no longer concentrate on the task. I got up and took the brand-new copy of 1984 out of my bag. I had started reading it on the tram on my way from the bookstore and was quite intrigued. Dystopia was by far my least favourite genre and I hated this type of moralistic fiction all together, but 1984 was different. It wasn’t like The Hunger Games, that I had to force myself to read to keep up with the trends, or The Giver, that was part of the school curriculum. Reading this particular dystopian novel, however uninteresting it seemed, had a purpose for me. And that purpose was John.

John was an interesting purpose for sure. He was someone I considered a close friend, despite barely ever talking to him. And, since the start of Year 11, he was also my best friend’s boyfriend. He was about my height, which, me being the tallest person in the year, was quite an achievement, and had an incredibly deep voice for his age, which made him an unintentional authority amongst his peers. His favourite school subject was History, just like mine, and he would often get into long debates about it with teachers. Given his deep and loud voice, people just had to listen to him and, being an exceptionally good student made him even more respected. We were all sure he would have a future in politics some day and me and my friend Tania even nicknamed him “The politician”. Having picked up an interest in politics myself, I just had to get to know him better. I was dying to talk to someone about my newly found interest in the history of North Korea, and, out of the thirty people in my year, John seemed like the only one who would know anything about the subject. During our two-day Duke of Edinburgh hike in Valais, I had managed to find out what John’s favourite books were. Not surprisingly, they were 1984 and Brave New World. I rolled my eyes at how basic his choices were – a 15-year-old boy with an interest in politics obsessing over dystopian fiction, how typical! – but he was my only option, if I ever wanted to have long discussions about international relations with anyone I knew. And so, 1984 it was.

Reading had always been a difficult task for me and, after about five minutes, I couldn’t concentrate on it any longer either. I continued reading, but my mind was already far off, imagining how I would proudly tell John that I knew everything about his favourite book. In my fantasy, he would be slightly shocked, immediately asking me to hang out and talk about it after school. We could go to a park or a café and talk for hours on end and I would tell him about some actually good books like Without You, There Is No Us or Nothing to Envy, both of which were about North Korea and, unlike silly dystopia, were based on facts.

Thinking about John gave me a warm feeling in my body that I couldn’t quite explain. I wanted to daydream about him more and more, replaying unrealistic dreamy scenarios in my head over and over. I noticed that my heart started pounding the more I thought about him and I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline that made my hands a little shaky, as I was holding the book. The feeling was so familiar, yet I couldn’t explain it. I had felt it before, for sure, like when I wanted to be friends with my Physics teacher or when I, for some reason, would wonder what would happen if I became friends with certain girls I never really talked to at school. It probably meant that I wanted to be closer friends with John too. Or…

I opened my eyes wide and lowered the book on the floor. The sudden realisation made me weak in the knees.

…Did this mean that I was in love with John?

I had to tell someone; this was huge! But who would I tell? My best friend was his literal girlfriend! Or did it matter? I mean, as far as I knew, they weren’t having sex. And, if being at that posh private school a couple of years ago taught me anything, it was that serious relationships involved sex. If not, it was just friendship, just like my 6th Grade friendship with my “boyfriend” Vlad. But something told me, my friend wouldn’t approve.

I took out my diary and started writing.

“I can’t hide it anymore,” I wrote my secret in the tiniest handwriting possible. “I love John.”

Seeing it written on paper was thrilling. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, heart echoing in my ears, as I was coming to terms with my own confession.

“And I don’t just like him,” I continued. “I would straight up have sex with him. Oh my god. I love him so much. Why is he so hot?”

Immediately after writing this strange declaration of love, I folded the page into a triangle and taped it closed. It was a strange practice I had kept since childhood for writing my biggest secrets. My diary was a safe enough place to keep my thoughts, but in extreme cases like this one, I had to be absolutely sure that no one would ever find out. The chance of someone reading my diary without permission was small, but I couldn’t risk it.

There it was. My secret was out. Well, to my diary, at least. It was exciting. Thrilling. I was in love! John, my first ever crush – what an exciting milestone! I guess I wasn’t asexual after all. But it was strange that I had felt this feeling before. Did this mean I didn’t want to be friends with all those girls I had experienced similar emotions for in the past? Thinking about John, while having butterflies in my stomach was nice, but I had to investigate further.

Leaving the mess of my History notes on the floor, I started looking for my diary from 7th Grade in my chest of drawers. It was easy enough to find – a roughed-up grey notebook with a picture of an owl on the cover. The last time I had experienced that feeling was when I was getting extra help from my Physics teacher and, since everything was nicely documented in my diary, I could easily get to the bottom of this. By coincidence, when I dropped the notebook on the floor, it opened itself to another taped over folded page, another secret I wanted to keep safe from any intruders. ‘What’s in it?’ I thought, not remembering what I could have written all those years ago. After giving it a thought, I reached for the scissors, and cut through the tape. What I saw there – written in my own handwriting! – shocked me to the very core.

“I had a strange dream yesterday,” it read. “I think I was a man in the dream. I was with Katarina. She was on the bed, wearing a white knee-length nightgown. I stroked her stomach and thighs and spread her legs. And then… I think it’s called giving oral…? It was nice. She orgasmed and I woke up.”

It all made sense… My weird fondness for my Physics teacher in 7th Grade suddenly made sense… And so did my nervousness around Arina in 8th Grade, when we would walk to the bus stop together and I couldn’t stop myself from looking at her cleavage. And so did the endless scrolling on Katarina’s Facebook page, when I would look at photos of her in a bikini and feel a strange tingling at the bottom of my stomach. And so did the fact that when my best friend showed me porn when we were thirteen, I would look at the woman and never at the man. It all made sense. It all came together. There was a reason I felt weird in the girls’ changing rooms. There was a reason, why I wrote a story about kissing a girl for my English class assignment. There was a reason I never fancied any boys at school. There was a reason for everything! I was a lesbian!

But what about John…?

No, I couldn’t be a lesbian, I thought. All those instances I thought about and, even that dream, were just feelings of friendship! I couldn’t be gay. That was impossible. No way. I was normal!

I took my laptop and opened an Incognito tab in my browser.

“Am I gay quiz,” I typed into the search bar. No. That was ridiculous. Of course, I wasn’t gay. But, if my feelings for those girls weren’t love, that meant that I wasn’t in love with John. And I definitely was. And so, I was stuck in a contradictory dilemma. If I was in love with a boy, it would mean that I was a lesbian. But, if I wasn’t, why would I sexually fantasise about a friend? If only there was another option…

I could be bisexual, I thought. The definition did describe me pretty well, but, in practice, I was the polar opposite of what a typical bisexual girl was. It was a label reserved for “sluts”. The only bisexual I knew was my middle school friend Sasha. She was the first one in our friend group to lose her virginity, her nude photos circulating around the school when she was only thirteen. I wasn’t like her and plus, I had no proof that I was sexually attracted to either gender. The “straight” part would be easy enough to prove to the public; I was a girl, after all, so it was only natural to be attracted to men. But to me, the only proof was my desire to talk politics with John. As for being attracted to women, my diary had plenty of proof, but, since I had never acted upon any of my fantasies with girls, did they even have any value? In theory, the word “bisexual” sounded just right, but no one would believe nor accept me. I decided to wait until sharing these thoughts with anyone else. I was only 15 after all; I had plenty of time to figure things out. But, until then, it would be another one of my deepest secrets. So deep, in fact, that I wouldn’t even trust my diary with it.

---

My mum gave me a worried look, as I got out of my room to make myself a cup of tea.

“Are revisions going alright?” she asked in a worried tone, looking me up and down.

“Uhh… Yeah..?” I said quietly, realising that, after discovering not one but two crucial life- changing details about myself, I probably looked mad.

“Ready for the exam?” mum asked again, trying to calm me down. “What’s it gonna be on?”

“Arab-Israeli conflict,” I muttered, avoiding eye contact, as I made my way to the kitchen.

Despite what seemed like the biggest discovery of my life, I quickly forgot about it, once I got to school the following day. I had a crush on a boy after all; why would it matter if I was hypothetically attracted to women? And when you’re fifteen, the hormonal rush of being in love feels like the most important thing in the world. I was convinced that I was going to marry John and, if I was into him, he had to be secretly in love with me too. After all, love was a mutual feeling, right?

After being subjected to the despicable sight of my supposed best friend Daisy and John snogging in front of my locker as usual, I decided that this atrocity had to be put to an end. I had a new life purpose – a new mission! – and nobody was going to stop me. I had to let John know how I felt! How else would he know that we were meant to be and that I wanted to have sex with him? I had to be direct, yet discrete. In a tiny school like this one news spread quickly and, if I didn’t play my cards right, all the thirty people in year would know the secret that I had so carefully folded into a page of my diary the night before.

Brainstorming for ideas of how to let John know about the way I felt was a lot easier than I thought. The answer was in front of me this whole time. The book, the god damn book! The shitty dystopian novel I was trying so hard to get through had finally proven itself useful. I could do the same thing! Give John a piece of paper with the three simple words written on it, just like Julia’s note to Winston; direct, yet discrete, exactly what I was looking for. And, even better, I could simply rip out the page with the love confession straight from the book and give it to John. How clever! And, most importantly, how romantic! Christmas was coming up so John, officially being a part of my friend group, would receive a present from me. It wasn’t weird; we were friends after all and it was only expected of us to give each

other Christmas presents. I would then casually slip the ripped-out page into the bag and, after opening the present, he would see my confession. The plan was brilliant!

I felt like a genius. Even if John wouldn’t be so eager to jump into a relationship with me straight away, this confession would mark him for the rest of his life and that was exactly what I wanted. Back then it seemed to me that, if I was in love, it was going to be for life, so it didn’t matter if John wasn’t in love with me just yet. And I was willing to give him the time to grow and mature. What counted was that he would know about my feelings and that my creative confession would stay with him forever. But the way things played out, wasn’t at all what I was expecting.

After giving John his Christmas present and the ripped-out page from 1984 with the words “I love you” in the middle of it carefully circled in pencil, I waited for a reply. On the 25th of December, I finally got the awaited Facebook message.

“Thanks for the present jacky. Very cool!” it read.

And that was it. “Very cool”, huh? No mention of the page at all. No heartfelt message about how surprised he was to see my confession or, on the contrary, a “I don’t feel that way about you” type of rejection. Hell, even a “don’t talk to me ever again” would’ve been better than nothing! But there it was, the only reply John would ever give me. And at school, it was the same as before. It was like he didn’t even understand the confession. I mean to me, it seemed very obvious! I circled the words “I love you” in the middle of the page, God damn it! Was it that hard to understand? Or maybe, he didn’t notice the page at all, I started thinking. Maybe it had slipped out of the bag or he had accidentally thrown it in the bin with the wrapping paper. Maybe he never saw it in the first place. And what was I supposed to do? Walk up to him and say “hey, did you see the ripped-out page from 1984 in your Christmas present?”. What seemed like the biggest romantic gesture of my life had gone unnoticed; it was like there was no 1984 in the first place.

I started thinking that I was going mad. Did I make this all up? Did I never actually confess anything at all? I mean, frankly, who wouldn’t react to a love confession? If John was aware of my feelings, he would certainly say something about it, not act like nothing had happened. The only proof I had was the mutilated copy of 1984 with page 114 savagely ripped out of it, as if leaving behind a scar. But did I even put it in the bag with his Christmas present?

However soon enough, I got the confirmation that I was not in fact going mad. Daisy, my best friend throughout all of Year 10, knew. And there was no way we were going to remain friends after I had tried to sabotage her relationship with John.

And so, I was back to being lonely, just like I had been in middle school. And finding new friends in a class of only thirty people was going to be tough.

---

After Christmas I had quickly realised that my fear of becoming friendless was largely exaggerated. It wasn’t like Daisy was my only friend in the entire school. It was true that halfway through the school year friend groups had already been formed, but it wasn’t completely impossible to join either clique and talk to people you wouldn’t normally talk to at lunch. It was weird not to spend every break time with John and Daisy, but, after spending some time apart from them, I started to realise that my friendship with them wasn’t as great as I thought. A lot of the times John would go on and on about politics and current events and, despite being interested in the subject, it wasn’t fun; there was nothing exciting about hanging out with the two of them and I started to miss my old mischievous friends Aisha and Jessica from 7th Grade. Luckily for me, this school gave me some options.

The first person I thought of when I brainstormed about who I could become closer friends with was Ira. We took Art together and would occasionally hang out after school. During the October holidays we even went to Montenegro together, so, according to some, we were even considered close friends. What I liked about Ira was that she was unapologetically interested in sex. Despite being a bit of a tomboy and probably the quietest person in the year, contrary to everyone’s expectations, Ira had a long and elaborate list of sexual fantasies. She watched porn, read a lot of erotic fanfiction and had encyclopaedic knowledge of fetishes, kinks and anything sex related. Once you got to know her, the shy innocent-looking girl transformed into a real qualified sexologist – a high priestess of lovemaking! And talking to her about it was fascinating! Now that Daisy was out of the picture, I could spend more time with Ira. I had missed talking about sex after all and Daisy was always too prude to ever bring it up.

The second friend I had, but never got the chance to get close to, was Tania. She was also in my Art class and, just like me, didn’t seem to fit in with any other friend group. But, unlike me, or Ira, or Daisy, Tania was cool. She looked a bit older than the rest of us and had a lot of friends outside of school. Every weekend her Snapchat story would show her partying at her older sister’s flat, drinking Jack Daniels and smoking red Marlboro cigarettes with her Russian friends and, despite never being really interested in alcohol, a part of me really wanted to be a part of this clique. At school however, Tania was mysterious. She didn’t have a friend group or a best friend like everyone else, but it never seemed to bother her. She could effortlessly join anyone else for lunch and, being the prettiest girl in the year, would be welcomed by everyone. And after school, she would often invite the people she liked the most to her favourite place in the entire town – Starbucks. Being one of the few people who actually enjoyed coffee at that age, I would often come along, and we would gossip for hours on end. And, just like Ira, Tania wasn’t afraid to discuss subjects deemed taboo by Daisy, like crushes and sexuality.

One time after Art class, after Daisy had stormed off to yet another snogging session with John, Tania came up to me and Ira and gave us a mysterious look.

“Starbucks?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Sure thing,” agreed Ira immediately.

“Uhh yes please!” I said, rolling my eyes, eager to talk about how much I despised John and Daisy’s relationship.

On our way to the café, Tania started to bombard us with questions. “Have you ever been in a relationship?” she asked.

“Yeah, when I was 12,” I laughed. “Doesn’t really count, I guess.” “Have you had your first kiss yet?” Tania continued her interrogation. Ira and I shook our heads.

“How do you think your first kiss will go?” she asked.

“I don’t really see it as a big deal,” I said honestly. “I mean to be fair, I don’t think I’ll be in a relationship any time soon, so it’s not gonna be this whole romantic thing.”

“Yeah, it’s not like losing your virginity,” Ira agreed. “Would you do it, if it was a dare?” Tania asked. “Sure,” I said. “It’s not a big deal.”

Tania sighed and gave it a thought.

“Because look,” she said in a quieter tone. “I was doing a bise to a guy and we accidentally kissed on the lips. That doesn’t really count, right?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” I said. “I feel like it’s an awkward thing everyone has experienced. I mean I’ve accidentally kissed my family members on the lips a couple of times and it’s not like a first kiss, you know?”

“Yeah, same,” Ira confirmed. “I mean it depends how the guy reacted, I guess. If it was just an awkward slip up it doesn’t really count.”

“What makes it worse though is that my first real kiss, like with tongue and everything, was a dare,” continued Tania. “I feel like it doesn’t really count either, you know?”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Well, it’s not like I was dating the guy. We were just drunk and played truth or dare. I didn’t even tell him it was going to be my first kiss,” she explained. “Like… does that even count? Like… I’ve never been in a real relationship, you know…?”

“Well, neither have I,” I reassured her. “Who cares? We’re fifteen, it’s the perfect time to be single.”

“Yeah, but I feel weird,” Tania sighed. “You had a boyfriend when you were twelve, it still counts. And you,” she turned to Ira, “you went on a date with Chris in Year 7.”

“Come on, don’t bring that up!” Ira playfully punched Tania’s arm. “Ouch!”

“Yeah,” I stood up for Ira. “It happened when we were kids. Those weren’t real relationships. It’s perfectly normal to be single at our age. I mean come on, do you want to be like Daisy and John?”

Ira stuck her tongue out, mimicking the pair. We laughed.

As we got our overly expensive Starbucks coffees, we decided to play one of our favourite games, “Fuck, marry, kill”. The rules were simple; you would be given three people and you would have to say, which of the three things you would want to do with them.

“Ummm,” hesitated Ira. “How about Daisy, John and… Mr Gilbert!”

“Oh no,” I laughed. “Okay… Kill Daisy – sorry Daisy! Fuck John. And marry Mr Gilbert with his very attractive Swiss teacher’s salary.”

“Smart choice,” laughed Tania. “I’d have to agree.”

“I’d kill Mr Gilbert actually,” said Ira. “Imagine spending the rest of your life with an old guy at your house. ‘You have to pay attention’,” she mimicked the teacher’s voice and hand gestures. “Miss me with that bullshit! I’d kill him off and marry Daisy. I mean she’s my friend, so I wouldn’t mind her.”

“A year ago I would’ve said the same thing,” I said. “But nowadays she’s so annoying.”

“Don’t even get me started,” Tania rolled her eyes. “Ditching her friends to make out with a fugly loser. She’s honestly such a bad friend.”

“For real,” I nodded and took a sip of my caramel macchiato.

As the school was so small, when we’d tried all the possible combinations with the boys in our year, we had moved on to girls, the options “fuck” and “marry” being purely metaphorical of course. But, after my big discovery, the game made me nervous. I didn’t want anyone to know my secret and openly saying that I would fuck a girl would be way too suspicious, even if I didn’t mean it.

“Okay,” continued Tania. “How about Caitlin, Gemma and Lisa?”

“Hmm I’d say fuck Caitlin, marry Lisa and kill Gemma…?” said Ira without giving it a second thought. “I’ve never really talked to Gemma, so if one has to go it’s gonna be her.”

“And you?” Tania turned to me. I was getting nervous.

“I’d kill Gemma too,” I started out with the easiest option. “And probably fuck Caitlin…? I mean, if I absolutely had to, I would. I wouldn’t really want to fuck her because she’s cute, but not like hot, you know? But like if I had to, I would. But I wouldn’t. She’s not really my type.”

“Wow you’re really getting into this, huh?” laughed Ira.

“No, I get it,” reassured Tania. “I mean it’s if you had to, that’s the point of the game. Like you’re not attracted to girls, I get it.”

“I…,” I paused. “I think I am.” And that was my coming out.

---

Just like telling John that I loved him with a ripped-out page from 1984, the fact that I had told Tania and Ira that I was attracted to girls didn’t change anything at all. They quickly brushed it off and the topic was never brought up again, as if I hadn’t confessed to anything in the first place. My two most important discoveries ended up having no impact on my life whatsoever and, to the confusion of my dramatic fifteen-year-old self, the world didn’t stop or even slow down to acknowledge the importance of the findings of my inner world. What did have a lot of impact, however, was the development of my friendship with Tania and Ira and the presence of a certain mysterious substance otherwise known as alcohol.

Alcohol had always been something I was absolutely terrified of, the smell and taste of it reminding me of my dad’s lavish parties and, later, the blank stare of my mum’s new husband, who, without invitation, had moved in to live with us when I was fourteen. The thought of getting drunk made me nauseous and, as a child, I had sworn to myself that I was never going to drink this disgusting substance ever in my life. However, as time progressed, I had to come to terms with the fact that, just like sex, alcohol was something I had to accept, going into adulthood.

The summer before Year 10 was the first time that I had really gotten drunk. My cousin suggested to sneak out of the house past midnight and go drink beer with the soldiers at the military base hidden in the nearby forest. Loving adventure, I immediately accepted and, after making sure that everyone was asleep, we put on mascara and tiptoed to the small convenience store by the train station to buy a couple of beers.

“These are for the guys,” she picked up a sixpack of Baltika. “And these ones are for us,” she gave me a cute pink bottle with raspberries and passion fruit on the label.

The soldiers were more than happy to see us. Who wouldn’t be happy to see girls after a whole year of compulsory military service in the middle of nowhere? They showed us to the hole in the barbed wired fence and led us to the garage, proudly showing us the new paint job they had recently completed on a big and menacing-looking military vehicle. Looking back, there were so many ways this reckless adventure could have gone wrong, but ignorance was bliss and, luckily for us, the soldiers we stumbled upon were honest and well-mannered guys. They could probably tell we were so young, despite us trying our hardest to convince them we were eighteen, and were very polite and courteous. Sharing a beer with them while listening to their captivating stories about life in the army was fascinating and the presence of alcohol didn’t bother me at all. The sparkling raspberry and passion fruit drink was tasty and not scary at all. Maybe alcohol wasn’t as bad as I had thought it to be.

My prejudice had completely disappeared once I had started drinking with Tania. For my sixteenth birthday she had organised a surprise party for me and, after doing shots of vodka with her and our friends, there was no way I was going back to the boring strolls around the lake with Daisy I had previously called “going out”. In fact, there was no way I was going back to Daisy at all; Tania had not invited her nor John to the surprise, making it the final straw in our friendship breakup. Soon enough my Friday nights were spent sharing two bottles of rosé with Tania, while eating pizza and snorting snuff off the living room chair.

Although it was just tobacco, sniffing lines of anything felt thrilling. It felt like the beginning of a new life; I was entering into the booze-filled and rebellious age of adolescence I had seen in movies. Soon enough I was going to become the main character of a teen drama everyone’s loser parents were worried about, and I couldn’t wait to see what this kind of life had to offer.

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grandexodus · 3 years

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Breaking and Entering - (Part Three)

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is the first finished short story I’ve written in years. While I still need to write more often, I’m thrilled that you guys have enjoyed this mini series. If you have any feedback, criticism, or requests my inbox is always open. Thank you for the support.

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,933

Content Warnings: discussion of stabbing (wound), stalking, breaking and entering, animal abuse (not explicitly detailed), blood, fighting, light cursing. Fem reader insert, she/her pronouns.

Summary: When the replicator continues their criminal activity, you find yourself as their target upon arriving home from a long case with the BAU. Aaron Hotchner, your unit chief, is more than accommodating during the string of traumatic events that you endure before, during, and after the replicator case.

Previous Part // First Part

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“There’s only one bedroom, so you can have it. I’ll take the couch.” Hotch stated.

“Hotch-” You started.

“Aaron,” He corrected.

“Aaron, I’m not taking the only bed in the house. I’ll take the couch.” You said as you set your go bag on the ottoman.

“Y/n, I’m not the one with an injury. You should take the bed.” He insisted.

“Daddy.” Jack came into the living room. His babysitter was following close behind.

“Sorry.” The sitter mouthed from behind Jack.

“Hey, buddy. Listen, it’s really late, so you should get back to bed.” Hotch said as he hugged his son.

“Is y/n going to stay the night?” Jack asked tiredly. Though a twinge of excitement was evident.

“Yeah, she’s going to stay with us for a little while. She’ll be sleeping in my room, so if you need me I’ll be in the living room, okay.” Hotch explained.

“Why don’t you share your room like I do with my friends?” Jack asked innocently.

“Well, Jack, I think that’s up to y/n.” A smile spread across Hotch’s face.

“I don’t mind.” You said as you gave Jack a warm smile.

“I’m going to head out. Goodnight, guys.” The babysitter said.

“Goodnight, Jessica. Thank you.” Hotch said sincerely.

“Goodnight, Jack.” Jessica smiled and gave a small wave before leaving.

Hotch looked at you, “Have a seat, I’ll be back.” He turned his attention back to Jack, “Come on, Jack. I’ll tuck you in.”

You took a seat on the couch. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you noticed how happy Hotch was when he was with his kid. It was endearing.

“I’m sure you’re more than ready for bed.” Hotch said upon returning to the living room.

He picked up your go bag, and he slung it over his shoulder. “You have no idea.” You stood up, and Hotch almost immediately had an arm around you to support you as you walked.

The walk to the bedroom was a short one. “There’s a bathroom right through there, and this will be your side of the bed.” Hotch gestured to each location.

“I’m going to get cleaned up real quick.” you said. You were suddenly sheepish now that you were in his room. He nodded, and you took your go bag into the bathroom.

You quickly removed what was left of your makeup, brushed your teeth, and changed into your pajamas. When you returned to the bedroom, Hotch was changed and lying in bed reading. You crawled on to your side of the bed, thankful to finally be off the clock. Hotch closed his book, set it on the nightstand, and turned off the lamp.

“If you need anything, let me know. Even if you have to wake me up.” His voice was low.

“Okay.” There was a moment of silence. “Aaron.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for everything today.” At first he was silent. However, within seconds he found your hand and laced his fingers with yours.

“You’re welcome.”

You smiled to yourself, and before long the two of you were asleep, hand in hand.

***

It had been four days since the replicator had broken into your apartment. You had stayed with Hotch and Jack the entire time. You, Hotch, and Jack had said your goodnights two hours ago, and Hotch had been snoring peacefully for about an hour. You had just rolled onto your side and closed your eyes when you heard your phone vibrate against the nightstand. You grabbed it and unlocked the screen, squinting until your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Once your eyes focused, you opened the text notification.

Your heart sank to your stomach.

Unknown ID: ZUGZWANG

“Aaron.” Your voice came out in a whisper, and he didn’t stir. “Aaron.” You said louder.

“Hm.” He groaned.

“It’s the replicator.” You couldn’t keep your voice steady no matter how hard you tried. Hotch was alert at the sound of your words. You handed him the phone and watched as he read the text.

“I’ll call the team.” If he wasn’t wide awake before, he definitely was now.

He called the team into the office before calling Jessica to come pick up Jack.

“Y/n, I want you to stay here. Whoever did this will be expecting you to work the case.” Hotch stated as he hurriedly got ready.

“Aaron, I can hold my own in the field.” You argued.

“Y/n, this is an order, not a suggestion.” You hadn’t heard him this harsh in a very long time. He sighed when he noticed your taken aback expression. He came over to you and placed his hands on either of your cheeks. He looked down at you, as you were sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” He started, “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I just have to keep you safe.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “I guarantee you would be safe if you worked this case as you are the target.”

You couldn’t muster up a response that was anything more than an understanding nod. This man was driving you absolutely insane. He removed his gentle hold on your face and finished getting ready. I felt like a mere matter of minutes had passed before he and Jack were out of the house.

You certainly couldn’t go back to sleep. You were far too anxious. Last time your nerves ran this wild you at least had the privilege of busying yourself with a case. Now, you had nothing.

There was a small stack of books on the nightstand on Hotch’s side of the bed. Surely he wouldn’t mind you borrowing one to keep you at ease. You scooted over to his side of the bed and skimmed the book’s titles. Most of them were informative regarding law in some way. Those weren’t necessarily your cup of tea. However, at the very bottom of the stack was George Orwell’s ‘1984.’ You retrieved the book from the stack before you propped yourself up on Hotch’s side of the bed and began to read.

A few hours had passed and you hadn’t heard any updates from the team. Perhaps they weren’t updating you in order to keep you as uninvolved as possible. Undoubtedly per Hotch’s orders. As much as you tried to focus on the book, you could only manage to read a few sentences at a time before allowing your mind to wander.

The sound of the front door closing pulled you from your anxiety ridden trance. Your brow furrowed. It couldn’t possibly be Hotch. He would have let you know the case closed and he was on his way home. It was far too quiet of an entrance to be Jessica and Jack.

Your heart began to pound as whoever was in the house got closer to the bedroom. In an instant, you dialed Hotch and placed your phone face down on the bed.

The bedroom door burst open. Your breath caught in your throat.

“So, we finally meet face to face.” An older man began stalking toward you.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spoke quickly, unable to hide your panic. You were trying to focus on the man and search the room for anything that could be used as a weapon at the same time. That venture wasn’t proving to be easy.

“Y/n, or should I say special agent y/l/n,” He paused, “You know why I’m here.”

“Do I?” You questioned as you took a step back.

“I was supposed to be where you are, an agent in the BAU, but you took that away from me.” He stepped closer. There were only a few feet between the two of you.

“We’re going to do things my way, or not only will you get your brains blown out,” He flashed the gun that was tucked into the waist of his trousers, “but this whole place explodes.” He took another step. “You see, y/n, in ten minutes the bomb in the garage is going to go off.” He was calm. He had been planning for this moment for a long time. “But before it does, I’d like to have a little fun before it does.” He was now only a few inches away from you. You had to think quickly if you stood any chance of getting out alive.

Without hesitation, you stomped on his foot as hard as you could. As he doubled over you swiftly brought your knee up to his face. Before he could regain his composure, you snagged the lamp from the nightstand and shattered the base against his head. You saw your chance to make a run for it, and you limped as fast as you could to the bedroom door.

You were almost to the door when you were slung to the floor by your shoulder. The man held you on the floor with a foot on your throat, just barely pressing down. “One move and I’ll crush your windpipe.” He threatened. In one swift motion he pulled a knife from his pant pocket and crouched next to you. He smirked as he ran the back of the knife down your cheek. You shivered against the cold metal.

“Rumor has it you got a pretty nasty stab wound.” He moved the knife to your wounded leg. “Let me guess, the wound is right,” He tapped your shin with the blade, “about,” he tapped your knee, “here.” He plunged the blade into your healing wound.

Instantaneously, a blood curdling scream rose up from your core. It was all you could do to stay conscious. Tears ran down your cheeks as you frantically looked around for anything to use as a weapon. There was nothing.

“FBI, hands where I can see them.” Rossi stood behind the man with his gun drawn. With a glare in your direction, the man raised his hands, leaving the blade in your thigh. Rossi holstered his weapon and cuffed the unsub.

“Y/n.” Hotch came barreling in. He collapsed beside you as Rossi left the room. “I need a medic.” Hotch shouted over his radio before returning his attention to you.

“Try not to move.” Hotch said. “I’m so sorry.” You hadn’t ever seen him like this. His eyes flooded with fear, with worry. He brushed the hair out of your face and left his hand resting on your cheek.

“Don’t apologize.” You winced and placed your hand on top of his, “You couldn’t have known.” Without warning he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. Immediately, you gave into the kiss, ignoring the butterflies raging in your stomach.

“Sir, I need you to back away.” The medics were finally in the room.

“Wait, there’s a-” You suddenly remembered the bomb in the garage.

“It’s diffused, we heard everything during the phone call.” Hotch reassured you and you let out a sigh of relief. “The house is safe.” He still had his hand in yours, “You’re safe.” He gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go so the medics could get you on to a stretcher. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.” He said as he stood up.

“Can’t you ride with me?” you asked, exhausted. Hotch looked at one of the medics for permission. The medic simply nodded.

“Of course.” Hotch said.

“Thank you, Aaron.” you reached for his hand and quickly laced your fingers with his.

He didn’t say anything before softly planting a kiss on the back of your hand as he followed you and the medics outside.