#i mean you could probably actually ask a librarian that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vioartemis · 6 months

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Friends?

(Wednesday Addams x fem! reader)

Summary: One day, in the library, you catch Wednesday's attention... Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 Warnings: none a/n: expect a part 2, not proof read, it was in my drafts for like 3months now so I can't guaranty it's not awful (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

Wednesday pushed the library’s door and directly walked to the aisle she knew had the books she needed. After 10 minutes spent in said aisle, she let out a frustrated sigh; she couldn’t find the books, which meant someone either borrowed them already -which was unlikely, or the librarian forgot to put them back on the shelves.

Either way, it annoyed her.

Now she had to talk to the librarian to ask if the books were here, and it would probably take longer than necessary.

When she arrived at the desk with a blank expression, the woman was writing something on her computer, not sparing Wednesday a glance.

“I would like to borrow some books.” She said through gritted teeth, causing the librarian to look up

“What books?”

Wednesday put a piece of paper with the references of the books on the desk as an answer.

“Botanical curses & poisons, and The supernatural” the woman read out loud “You’re lucky, they’ve just got returned”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. Even if she did think it could’ve happened, she was still surprised. She didn’t actually think anyone else would ever borrow these books. It wasn’t common seeing someone read that kind of books -or read at all. And usually Nevermore students only read the books in the school’s library.

She didn’t hear the door while she was in the aisle, which meant the person was still there. Maybe she had found a classmate with the same interests as her? Which didn’t mean she would try to befriend them, but it was always good to know.

“If you’re looking for the girl, she’s in the aisles over there” the librarian said, as she had already put the books on the desk

Wednesday looked at her, a frown on her face, but nodded once and grabbed the books.

She then walked to the aisles the woman talked about. And here you were, looking at the books on the shelves, reading the back of one while holding another in your arms; Royal art of poison. Wednesday had read that book before, she recognize it was a good one.

Her attention then shifted on your face, even if she could only see your profile. She was sure she never saw you at Nevermore. She usually had a good memory for that kind of things, so maybe you didn’t have classes in common.

After looking you up and down, she walked out of the building to go back to Nevermore.

On the way there, she couldn’t help but think if she had seen you in the hallways, she would’ve never thought you would read this type of books.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

The following week, Wednesday tried to find you in the school. Unconsciously at first, as she didn’t really care, but then it became more and more important to her as she couldn’t seem to see you. That frustrated her. You had to be somewhere.

And yet she couldn’t find you.

She always got what she wanted, it was unusual for her to ‘fail’. So naturally, she decided to go back to the library.

When she did, she wandered in the aisles, looking for you. Unsuccessfully. It was like you didn’t even exist.

She felt like she was losing her mind, and it wasn’t as fun as she anticipated.

Just as she was about to go back in the aisle she saw you in for the first time, she saw Thing out of the corner of her eye. He was pointing a nearby aisle, signaling you were in there.

You were indeed in the aisle, looking at the books on the shelf in front of you. Venomous was already in your hands. A book about earth’s deadliest creatures… Wednesday thought.

Then your hand rose up to pick up another book; The Black Dahlia.

Now Wednesday was really interested by you. She never met anyone who knew about her favorite unsolved murder case, let alone read about it.

She took some step closer to you and grabbed a book on the shelf.

“You might as well read this one, if you’re interested in the Black Dahlia case.” she said as she handed you the book

You gave her a surprised look, not expecting anyone to recommend you any books in that section, let alone about this case.

“Oh, thanks” you grabbed the book “Do you know much about this case?”

“Of course, for it is my favorite unsolved murder. How come you know about it?”

“I saw a documentary on tv yesterday. Just thought I’d read some more about it. It seems to be a very interesting case” you explained

“Indeed.” A little pause “So what are you? Werewolf? Siren? Psychic?”

You frowned, confused as to why she would ask that.

“Are you from Nevermore?” you asked

“Are you not?”

You shook your head.

“I’m at Jericho High, sadly”

“‘Sadly’?”

You nodded.

“There’s a bunch of idiots there. Like- a whole bunch. I don’t really fit in. They’re all about social medias, hating on outcasts for no reason”

Wednesday looked at you, waiting for you to continue and explain yourself.

“I prefer books, even if I have to admit that scrolling on Pinterest while listening to music can be addicting. As for outcasts… I’ve always been interested in them, especially vampires. But I mean- every ‘class’ of outcasts I read about was interesting”

The raven took a moment to think about what you just said.

“It’s unusual to see a normie who doesn’t hate outcasts. Are you sure you’re a normie?”

“Pretty sure, yeah”

She looked you up and down after that, analyzing you. You seemed to be honest, she didn’t sense any hostility coming from you.

The following days, Wednesday caught herself thinking about your conversation, and by extension, about you. As much as it pained her to admit, something in you attracted her. Or at least made her ant to know more about you, which led her to the library once again.

This time, you were sitting at a table, reading another book about poisonous plants, some other books stacked next to you.

“Are you planning to murder someone?” she asked as she sat on the chair facing you

“Holy shit…! Do you make a habit out of scaring people?” you asked, half joking, a hand on your chest after her voice made you jump

“It’s more of a hobby. Who is going to be your victim?”

“No one!” you chuckled, once your heartbeat calmed down a bit “I’m just trying to find information about Aconitum, like where it grows, etc”

“Why?”

“I want to experiment with it myself, simple curiosity” you shrug

So you did want to poison someone. Interesting. She thought.

“No, no, I can guess what you’re thinking. I’m not trying to kill anyone. But you never know when that kind of information can be useful”

“Indeed.” she nodded, even if she was a bit disappointed

“And if I did want to kill someone, I would probably use something else like Nightshade or the Nerium Oleander -but I’d have to find some first” you added “Anyways, I need to go, I have class… See you later, maybe?”

Wednesday looked at you as you packed your things and left the library, not without putting the books back on their shelves. You definitely had a little something that made her look forward to the next time she would be in your company. That thought surprised her; she usually wasn’t one to seek others’ company.

She stayed sat at the table for a few minutes, lost in thoughts, before standing up almost abruptly. She walked to the door and was about to leave, when the librarian called her.

“Hey, wait a sec!”

Wednesday turned to face the woman who got out from behind her desk. She handed something.

“What is that?”

“A micro-cassette recorder. It must have fallen from your friend’s bag when she left. I thought you could give it back to her”

“She’s not my friend.” Wednesday said blankly but took the object anyways

The librarian rolled her eyes at the smaller girl and went back to her desk while Wednesday left the library, putting your recorder in her backpack.

“What’s that?”

Wednesday looked up from her typewriter; Enid was holding the recorder.

“A micro-cassette recorder.” she simply said “Put it back where it was, Enid.”

“Oooh what are you doing with it? Recording podcasts? I thought your thing was novels” the blonde continued, not listening

“‘My thing’ is novels.”

“Then what’s on this recorder?”

Before the raven could say anything else, the werewolf pressed the play button.

“Okay… Is it recording? Ah, yes, the numbers are moving. Okay okay… um… Where do I even start? God I must look so dumb talking to that thing… Anyways. Uh… Day 1 of research on outcasts, I guess? Is that how they do in movies?”

The recorder stopped playing, for Wednesday had pressed the button again, taking it from Enid’s hands.

“Whose voice is that? It’s not yours”

“Of course not. It’s…” she paused, looking for the right words “… it belongs to someone I met at the library.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?? I want to know everything!”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Why do you have her recorder then?”

“She forgot it. I just keep it until I can give it back.”

“Hmhm, sure”

Enid said with a big smile, before going back to her activities: laying on her bed and scroll on Instagram, probably. The other girl watched her do so, then went back to her writing, putting the recorder on her desk.

After half an hour of peaceful writing, she heard Enid tell her she was going in Yoko’s dorm for whatever gossip session they had every week. From the corner of her eye, Wednesday saw the recorder move closer to her.

Thing was pushing it in her direction.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you want to hear more?” Thing signed

“I wouldn’t like it if anyone read my novel without asking me first.”

“But you’re curious”

“… Of course.”

“Listen to it then! Maybe you’ll be able to help her. She seems nice, she won’t get upset” Thing signed quickly, almost as curious as Wednesday to hear your research

“Fine. Give it to me.”

Thing pushed the recorder further so she could grab it. She did, and pressed play again, but not after a glance at Thing.

“A word to Enid and I’ll snap all your fingers.”

“Hmhm… so I borrowed this book in Jericho’s library about outcasts -I’m surprised they have books about that considering the way they see them. I think it was a pretty interesting book!”

Wednesday listened to what you had to say on that book, then fast-forwarded to a bit later on the record.

“… lost count of the days at this point. It’s crazy how I can’t find anything more than what I already read! It’s like normies’ knowledge about outcast is only the basics -not to say the clichés. God, I wish I was at Nevermore. I’m sure they have sooo much more books there. Not only about outcasts, but about poisonous plants as well!”

The raven was about to stop listening when you started speaking again.

“Oh, yesterday, I met a girl at the library! She advised me to read a certain book about The Black Dahlia case. She said she was from Nevermore. Well, she didn’t deny it. I wonder what’s her gift… But it’s a weird question to ask, isn’t it? I bet she knows lots of outcasts if she studies there… of course she does, what I am even saying?”

The record stopped by itself after that.

Wednesday had the tiniest smile on her face. You were smart, that she had noticed when you first talked, yet hearing you speak freely like that made you sound so clumsy. You were passionate, that was for sure.

“Thing, do you think you can find her quickly?”

A knock on your bedroom window caught your attention. Your stopped what you were doing and opened it. To your surprise, a hand -without a body- ran (?) in your room.

You looked at it, mouth agape, certainly not expecting that.

“Hi…?” you said hesitantly

The hand stopped on your desk and starting signing.

“I uh… don’t speak sign language… sorry”

The hand paused, as if it was sighing.

“You can… hear me?” you asked, surprised

It gave you a thumbs up as an answer, before showing its palm to you. A message was written on it with a marker: ‘You forgot your recorder at the library. Call me.’ Followed by a phone number.

“Thank you”

You said while typing the number on your phone, before calling it.

On the other side, Wednesday was waiting in front of Enid’s computer. She remembered how to use it from last time Enid told her. When she saw you were calling, she pressed the spacebar to pick up.

She certainly didn’t expect to see you with Thing on your shoulder.

“Hi!” you said with a smile “So you found my recorder? I was afraid someone random found it…” you paused “Your room is… more colorful that I would’ve imagined”

“It’s my roommate’s side.” Wednesday frowned, a bit offended you could think she would decorate her room this way

“Oh. What does your side looks like then?”

She turned Enid’s computer to show you -quite proudly.

“Ohh it’s nice! Wait- you have a typewriter?? That’s so cool! Like the overall decoration”

Thing typed lightly on your shoulder.

“Oh, yes, sorry. He’d like me to drive him back to Nevermore. Which I can understand, it’s a bit far away… So, we were wondering if you could open a window or something? I don’t think your principal would appreciate if someone from outside came without permission”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Let’s say it’s for keeping my recorder safe, that way we’re even” you smiled

Wednesday nodded, and said she would open their window, just before your parents called you from downstairs, asking who you were talking to. While you were answering them, Thing gave the raven a thumbs up.

Of course it was your plan all along, bringing her here… she thought, a slight smile forming on her lips again. Well played.

After going out by your bedroom window, took your bike, put Thing in the little basket attached to the handlebar, and started making your way to Nevermore. On the way there, you talked with Thing; he used your phone to type and made it read the text out loud so you could hear.

When you arrived at Nevermore’s gate, you left your bike against the low wall near the entrance. To your surprise, the gate wasn’t closed -which was a good thing. You got on the school’s territory, walking silently to the school itself.

You had only ever seen it in pictures, and you had to admit, it was way cooler to see it for real.

Thing tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality, and pointing at a big round window with a metallic spider web on it. It was probably the dorm you had to reach.

“You could’ve told me it was on the fourth floor…”

You examined the architecture of the school, before cracking your knuckles and starting to climb.

“If I fall… I hope I won’t break too many bones”

After what seemed like an eternity, and three times almost falling, you finally reached the balcony. You took a moment to lay there, catching your breath, Thing patting your arm reassuringly.

He then disappeared inside and came back with the raven right as you were standing back up.

“Thing said you were hurt.” Wednesday said, her eyes shifting from your face to your hands, bruised by the climbing

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve done rock-climbing with my parents before, I’m used to it”

“… If you say so.” she paused, and handed you your recorder

“I almost forgot about it” you chuckled, taking it from her hands and putting it in a pocket of your vest “Thank you”

Wednesday nodded. You did the same, as a goodbye, and were ready to go back home, when she spoke again.

“If you want more books about outcasts or something else…” she stepped forward and gave you a piece of paper “… let me know.”

You took the paper and opened it. Another phone number. You had guessed the previous one wasn’t hers, and according to what Thing told you, she never used the phone some guy gifted her.

You smiled and put the paper in your pocket.

“Thank you”

You were about to leave, but you remembered something.

“You never told me your name”

“Neither did you.”

“I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n”

“Wednesday. Wednesday Addams.”

“It was nice seeing you, Wednesday” you smiled “It’s probably going to sound weird… But I enjoy your presence, I feel understood. I hope we’ll be good friends. Anyways, good night!”

With that, you climbed down the wall, disappearing from her field of view.

Wednesday looked at the sky; it was dark, lots of clouds, but the moon was still visible behind them. It even illuminated the raven’s face.

Thing tapped in her direction.

“I only tolerate her presence. Don’t imagine things.”

More tapping, and what looked like he was rolling his eyes.

“One more word and you’re locked in the drawer until I decide otherwise.”

Thing saw it as the sign to go back inside, not wanting to risk it.

When she was alone on the balcony, Wednesday’s eyes shifted to your small form while you were getting on your way home.

Her little smile was back, that smile which was so unusual to see on her face, that only the people she really cared about ever saw.

Friends, hm? I suppose that’s what we are.

[Next part]

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday #wednesday x fem reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday netflix

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wqnwoos · 8 months

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kwon soonyoung is hopeless at subtlety.

when a guy who’s never touched a book that wasn’t absolutely necessary for an exam suddenly starts lingering around the campus library, it becomes noticeable. it becomes more noticeable when it’s soonyoung, as the popular dance captain and renowned party thrower that he is.

hell, even you’ve noticed, and you’re usually miles and miles away, in a world of your own. when you’re not helping students find books or scanning out their required readings, you’re sitting behind the student librarian desk reading your own books, or studying, or, in some of your lesser moments, scrolling through tiktok. you don’t pay too much attention to who comes in and out, but the thing about soonyoung is that he demands attention.

not him himself, that would be obnoxious. but it’s the bleached hair, and handsome features, and just the fact that he seems to know everyone around here. so yeah, his face becomes recognisable with each day he skulks into the library, dithering between shelves that you never would have assumed held his interest.

today, however, is the first day he actually borrows a book. he waltzes up to the counter carrying, surprisingly, a jane austen — persuasion. which is only one of the greatest novels ever written, but you restrain yourself from blurting that out, instead asking for his name and typing it in.

he’s quieter than you’ve seen him be, around campus with his friends. gentle, almost — shy, too, with the way his cheeks pink when you repeat his name, and the way he drums his fingers nervously on the book.

a moment later, your brows are furrowing at the words that pop up. “um. soonyoung? it says here you last borrowed a book… three years ago. and you didn’t return it.”

the boy in front of you practically goes scarlet. “shit,” he curses, quiet but emphatic. “which book?”

you cast another glance to the computer screen. “um, diary of a wimpy kid. cabin fever.”

he passes one hand over his embarrassed face; it seems that a meagre amount of words is enough to reduce him to a fumbling mess. he drops persuasion, picks it up, slides it back over to you, and, with a strained voice, says, “i’ll find it! i’ll bring it tomorrow. cross my heart.”

and, much to your surprise, ten minutes before you shift ends the next day, kwon soonyoung is running breathlessly through the library double doors; he meets your eyes and brandishes a battered looking copy of cabin fever with a triumphant grin and needless declaration;

“i found it!” he drops it with a satisfying thunk, and you can’t help the amused smile that breaks out onto your face. “you won’t believe where it was,” he continues, shaking his head. “it’s probably best if i don’t even tell you — anyway!” he cuts himself off before you can think too deeply about what that means. “do i have to pay a fine?”

“no,” you say, and bring forward the copy of persuasion he’d been eyeing yesterday. “do you still want this, by the way? i kept it to the side in case you came back for it.”

he beams, and it’s like the sun’s in front of you: bright, warm, lovely. “you did? thank you, ___. actually… you finish up in a few minutes, right?”

“i — yes,” you say slowly, squinting at him. “how do you know that?”

“i’ve been coming here every day for two and a half weeks trying to get the courage to talk to you, and i accidentally memorised your schedule doing that,” he admits with a shameless grin. before you can even process that, he’s suddenly looking a lot shyer; but he taps the cover of the book between you, and continues: “so, um, could i… persuade you to get a coffee with me?”

you can’t help it — you laugh, much louder than library regulations allow, but you can’t bring yourself to care when soonyoung is looking at you, half-hopeful, half-sheepish. “did you pick this book just to — ”

“yes,” he interjects, cheeks flushing. “i was desperate!”

you pretend to consider. “so… you’re not an austen fan?”

“i am if you are,” he says instantly.

again, you laugh, but this time you add an answer. “in that case,” you say, lips curving upward. “i’d love to get a coffee with you.”

an / requested by the lovely lovely @etherealyoungk !! hope u like it skye <3

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

#seventeen x reader #hoshi x reader #hoshi fluff #soonyoung x you #seventeen fluff #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung x reader #seventeen fic #hoshi fic #soonyoung fic

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uglypastels · 11 months

Note

i have to say this, eddie love fucking you when you’re in a messy bun and your glasses almost falling down your nose. Chef’s kiss

Chef's kiss indeed and i hope this is ok, but this gave me major librarian!reader vibes, and I meant to make this pure filth, but as I started writing, I realised that I adore these two wholeheartedly, so please enjoy the fluff fest around it.

warnings: 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. p in v sex. sex in a public place. unprotected sex (dzon't dzo it). swearing.

masterlist // inbox //

Working in the Hawkins Town Library, you got to be in the presence of almost everybody who lived there, from the youngest readers to the eldest. Everyone needed books for one reason or another, let it be homework research, recipes or just some entertainment. There were the quiet readers who settled themselves somewhere in a corner to spend the rest of the day with their noses in between the pages; the ones who search for hours for the one book they had their mind set on the moment they walked in; the ones that, for whatever reason, forget to stay silent. There were fans of fantasy as well as historical non-fiction, philosophy and romance. There was a place for everybody here.

With such a variety in patrons, it was only natural you grew to have favourites. Some might be more self-explanatory than others. Of course, your heart doubled when Julie came in with her daughter, Sandy [who just turned six!], to pick out a new book every few weeks. Or old man Farrell who already knew all the facts in the books he checked out and was more than happy to share with you.

It could come to most people as a shock then that the person you looked forward to seeing the most was none other than Eddie Munson.

Surprisingly, he could be the definition of the perfect library patron. Besides the fact that he had never been late with book returns, when you started working there, the first few times Eddie came by, he scared you to death—so quiet was he, sneaking around the aisles and up to the counter to check his stacks of books out.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya there, sweetheart,’ he said as he put the books on the desk.

‘It’s alright.’ You started picking up books from the pile, stamping in the date on the inside sheet. ‘Might have to consider getting a bell.’ You smiled, ‘that way I could hear you coming.’

‘Hmm, too bad I don’t have a bell.’ Eddie clicked his tongue but reached into one of his pockets, ‘but… would these do?’ He pulled out a handful of thin metal chains. They rattle around.

‘Why do you have those in your pocket?’ You asked curiously as you gave him back the books.

‘Always have them on me– I mean, on my jeans, but I take them off when I’m hear. Don’t want to disturb anyone.’ And with that, he gave you a shy little smile that made your heart melt.

‘That is, actually, really sweet of you.’ If only more people were so considerate. ‘Thank you.’

‘Yeah, well, I have my moments.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘See ya.’ You waved as he walked away, barely able to contain the smile on your face that the metalhead had caused.

Not a lot changed since that day, but your and Eddie’s conversations did begin to grow. You’d keep on talking while you checked out his books, sometimes for so long that another patron would have to interrupt to get their books. Then, Eddie would pop by your desk to ask for the location of some particular book— one you had never heard of, in all honesty, but he probably easily could have found it if he bothered to look through the cards.

‘Excuse me, sweetheart,’ he’d clear his throat, ‘do you have any idea where I could find Carrots Love Tomatoes?’

‘Sorry?’ You must have misheard the title.

‘Carrots Love Tomatoes: Secrets of Companion Planting for Successful Gardening. It’s for my uncle.’ Eddie would clarify, reading the title out from a scrap of paper he had scribbled on.

‘Right. Do you know who it’s by, perchance?’

‘I’m surprised you don’t.’ He reread the paper. ‘Louise Riotte– shit, I’m definitely mispronouncing that.’ He quickly spelt it out for you.

Well, you had to admit, you weren’t personally familiar with Miss Riotte’s work, but you knew this library inside-out and told Eddie to follow you into the section you thought it most likely to be. The non-fiction section was off in the corner of the library, with only rectangular windows blocks near the ceiling, letting in barely any daylight. The light was, instead, coming from the lamps above you; they flickered and buzzed on the off-moments.

Eddie stayed a step behind you as you navigated through the shelves, muttering the alphabet to yourself repeatedly as you tried to find the RI– shelf. Once you finally found it, you realised it was on the top of the bookcase, where you couldn’t reach it.

‘It’s up there.’ You pointed, thinking that maybe Eddie would just get it himself now. But instead, Eddie offered to pick you up. A bit flustered, you accepted the offer and tried to ignore the feeling of his hands on your hips, the way his rings dug into your soft skin. He picked you up, and you grabbed the book quickly. Once back down on the ground again, you handed it over to him. Eddie thanked you with a large smile as he looked at the book.

He frowned.

‘Something wrong?’ You asked.

‘No, no, it’s all good, thanks. It’s just that…I don’t know…’ He looked at the book a bit longer. ‘Oh, you know what? I think I must have read it wrong.’ He looked down at the scrap of paper again. ‘...yeah. That definitely says Catcher in the Rye. Well, thank you anyway, sweetheart. Really ‘preciate it.’

‘You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.’ You laughed.

‘Uhm, I’ll have you know,’ he leaned against the bookcase by your side, ‘that this had actually all been an act of sheer brilliance.’

‘Oh?’ You were leaning against it, too, your shoulders almost touching.

‘Yes. I would say that the way I got you here with me, away from all those people, is MacGyver-level brilliance.’

��Don’t you think it might have been easier to just… I don’t know, just ask me to meet you here.’ You would have been going on a break soon anyway.

Eddie grinned as he leaned forward to you, ‘Now, what would be the fun in that?’ You could feel his breath on you. The scent of excessive bubblegum chewing greeted you.

‘Fair enough,’ you tried to act cool, ignoring the hot flashes he was causing all over your body. ‘So, why did you want me to come out here? What couldn’t wait until my lunch break, Munson?’

‘Just wanted to say how cute you looked today.’ Eddie smiled, then, as if he remembered something– ‘Oh, and this–’ he leaned in, cupping your face in his hand, kissing you softly.

So, perhaps, some things had changed over time. Smalltalk and jokes at the front desk turned into stolen kisses and hushed laughter in the dark corners of the library. Just as with everything around, Eddie was gentle and soft. His grip on you was there for support, to make you feel how much he wanted you near him.

You pulled away with a small gasp, chest-beating fast, eyes fluttering open.

‘But I suppose I could have waited with that.’ Eddie said afterwards, his hand still on your cheek.

‘I’m glad you didn’t.’ Your voice was hushed, but you kissed Eddie deeply instead of breathing in the air you needed. You pulled at his shirt to bring him closer, and his other hand reached for your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

‘You should probably get back,’ he muttered between kisses.

‘Probably,’ you replied. Neither of you meant any of it, and you both knew it. You had no idea why you only saw each other at the library. Maybe because you always knew to find each other here; it was a certainty. Outside, it would be a mere coincidence to bump into Eddie. Here, you knew he would be here every week.

Maybe because it felt like a haven for both of you and it felt like a different reality—an escape from the real world. But it was precisely this that made everything else so fragile. Who knew what it would be like outside of these bookshelves? You didn’t want to know, so why risk it? What you had now, it was an unspoken agreement. One you both were more than happy with. It was special—a rarity.

Everything- the kiss, the hold, the emotions, the heat- all intensified the longer you kept going. It was getting messy and rough. Eddie had locked you in between him and the bookcase. You could feel him all over you. His hair tickling your face, his cold rings on your skin, his clothes pressing into you, his— fuck, he was huge. You could feel him against your thigh, no hiding it.

‘Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this the whole week.’ He breathed against your neck. ‘Haven’t stopped thinking about you.’ You would have told him the same if you could form an entire sentence. It was hard to concentrate daily when you had the memory of his touch plague you every day, and everything around you at your job was a heavy reminder.

‘Need… I need you, Eddie,’ you gasped out as he kissed your neck, right on the spot that made your knees go weak. ‘Please.’

‘Hmm, need you too, sweetheart.’ He was roaming his hand over your bare thigh underneath your skirt. Sometimes you wondered if anyone around had noticed that you really only wore them on days of Eddie’s library visits. Perhaps Eddie hadn’t picked up on that specifically, but he certainly enjoyed your style. ‘Drive my fucking wild in these short skirts of yours.’ The words rolled out of his mouth as he began unzipping his jeans. ‘Look so fucking good.’

‘Thank you,’ you moaned, giggling about how giddy you felt that he was complimenting you while preparing to thrust his dick in you. It was all so silly, so stupid. You were doing something incredibly risky, most likely illegal, but you couldn’t care one bit. All you could think about was how good he made you feel. How happy you felt with him.

‘C’mere,’ Eddie groaned, pulling you up by your thighs, holding you against the shelves. Luckily, they were pretty sturdy, bolted to the ground, so his force pushing you against them barely mattered. On you, however, it was another story.

‘Oh, fuck,’ you whimpered, trying to stay quiet at the feeling of him inside you. After letting you adjust quickly, he started thrusting in you hard and deep. The way he was moving against you, it made your whole body shake. You could feel your glasses slip down your nose. In the haze of it all, you had forgotten to take them off but were about to do so– when Eddie interrupted.

‘No, keep them on.’ He kissed your cheek.

‘Why?’ you didn’t see a reason for them.

‘Want you to see me fucking you.’ His smile was airy. ‘Besides, it’s hot as shit. The way you get so messy for me. And your hair,’ he punctuated each sentence with a deep thrust. One of his hands brushed some of your hair out of your face, ‘I wish I could take a picture of you right now. Would cum to it like every day.’

‘Gross.’ You joked, and in return, Eddie grazed his teeth over your collarbone, nipping at your skin slightly.

‘Calling me gross as if you’re not getting fucked in the middle of the library.’ Eddie’s smile was contagious. As he continued, your glasses were falling again, but he quickly pushed them back over the bridge of your nose. ‘You’re fucking filthy, sweetheart.’

‘I’m–’ you gasped as he went deeper.

‘Yeah, baby?’

‘I’m– I’m close, Eddie.’ You tried to whisper as best as you could, biting down on any noises that could be heard from afar.

‘Mmm, I know, you’re so tight. So perfect.’ he moaned through his last hard thrusts. You could feel your climax coming, knew how it would come, and quickly hid your face in the nape of his neck to muffle your scream of pleasure as it washed over you. Eddie rode it out with you, only moments behind.

He held you briefly, letting you come down and stabilise your breathing. You smiled at eachother sheepishly and kissed deeply once more. There was nothing else to say.

Eddie pulled out, the emptiness hitting you immensely. It was a strange sensation, and you still didn’t feel quite yourself as your feet touched the ground again. But Eddie’s hands stayed on you for stability.

‘You’re a dream, sweetheart. Just… unbelievable.’

Eddie brushed the loose strands of hair from your face again while you readjusted your glasses. There was nothing else to say.

Now came the awkward part where you timed your exit from the aisle and hid the guilty sex-glow look on your face.

It was a slow day at the library, so no one awaited you at the front desk. You took your place and tried to shake off all your emotions, and it worked for the most part, except for the giant smile. That you just could not get rid of.

It was still there when Eddie returned to you twenty minutes later, now accompanied by a new stack of books.

‘Found everything you were looking for?’ You asked as you took the books from him.

‘That and more.’ He leaned his elbows on the wood, grinning like an idiot. You had to tell yourself not to look at him, or you would get lost in those big brown eyes.

‘I’m happy to hear that.’ You stamped the date into all the books and returned them to Eddie. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ Eddie grabbed them under his arm. ‘Same time next week?’ He winked. Once, the words really were only meant for this little exchange. That had been all you were looking forward to—the small chat at the desk. Back then, you would have never imagined the things you would get up to with the metalhead in the barely visited sections of the library.

‘See you, Eddie.’ You shook your head, still smiling, of course. And that was that. There was nothing else to say.

At least, there wasn’t before. All those other times, that really would have been it. Eddie would have walked away, and you would have watched him do so while already awaiting his comeback. Yet this time…

This time, Eddie stayed in his place.

‘Can I… help you with anything else?’ You raised a brow.

‘Uhh–’ Eddie cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Yes, you could. See if I have these… these two tickets for this thing— a concert… and see, I have no idea what to do with this second one, so maybe you could help me with that.’ He spoke fast and like he was stumbling over an uneven pavement instead of words, but you followed it nonetheless.

‘Concert?’ You asked.

‘Yes.’ He expanded with the name of a band you had never heard of before. ‘This weekend.’

You thought for a moment, or at least pretended to, as you already knew your answer. ‘I might have a friend who would be interested in taking that ticket off you.’

‘Any chance this friend of yours wears cute glasses, short skirts and works at my favourite spot in the city?’

‘She just might.’ You bit the inside of your cheek.

‘Then it’s deal, sweetheart,’ Eddie slammed his hand on the table in excitement, then immediately cringed at the noise he made. That same noise seemed to have awakened a quick realisation in him: ‘Wait, we were talking about you, right?’

‘Yes, Eddie. I would love to go to the concert with you.’ You rolled your eyes at the needed clarification.

‘Cool, just checking. Great.’ he started walking away now. ‘Great. I’ll pick you up– wait; I don’t even know where you live.’

‘You can pick me up here.’

‘Do you live at the library?’ he asked quickly, and you were sure he was being serious.

‘No, Eddie, I do not, but I work weekends too. But you can bring me back to my place afterwards. Stay the night, maybe?’ Was that too much too quickly? You started to panic for a second, thinking you took it too far, but then Eddie replied, repeating his previous words.

‘It’s a deal, sweetheart.’

the end

thank you so much for reading!! please consider supporting with comments and reblogs <3 (maybe leave a review??) I would love to hear your thoughts

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anincompletelist · 1 month

Text

feb + march recs <3

[other rec links below the cut!]

y'all know the drill! as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

I had quite a few recs to catch up on - and am STILL catching up on - as I have been MIA with physical/mental health shenanigans as of late (so please excuse the fact that these are a bit angsty skjdhkjhd). thank you as always to these authors and their beautiful words for being a comfort! I love having a full 'to-read' list! :D

see you again soon, and happy reading! <3

I've Always Loved New York, Since Garlic Aioli | KingCaspianX | E | 12k

Alex would say that this date is going really, really well. It hurts to admit because he now owes Nora a six-pack of beer, but he’ll happily swallow his pride if it means he gets to spend as much time as humanly possible with the cute librarian with the elbow patches who’d asked him out last week. The cute librarian, Henry, is not wearing any elbow patches this evening, but is instead dressed in cream linen pants and a soft blue oversized shirt. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, on his collar bones, down his neck from the balmy New York air but instead of being gross, the way Alex probably is, it’s sinful. He’s glowing. Alex wants to lick his throat. Jesus, he could have sworn he was straight a minute ago. Or, Henry asks Alex on a date. Alex, straight, accepts.

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At the NYE Gala, Henry starts feeling the hazy edges of anxiety and an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. It takes him longer than it should to take notice of the feeling, and even longer to realise that the cause is likely the binder he’s been wearing all day. He escapes the party, Alex gets him upstairs to his room to change, and the rest of the night goes far differently than Henry could have expected.

getting good now | Standinginmoonlight | M | 20k

Alex sighs and balls his hands up into fists, digging them into his eye sockets until he sees stars, and then he’s speaking without his brain giving his mouth permission. “I can’t believe I’m going to marry someone British.” Or: the Love is Blind AU that no-one asked for.

cause you're classic and I'm reckless | @firenati0n | T+ | 5k

“I've, actually, uh. I've never done this before.” At this, Henry stops short, takes a second as his gaze moves up and to the left, trying to recall something. “I've seen your films. You most certainly have done intimate scenes.” Alex clears his throat. He hopes his nerves aren't completely obvious, the slight waver in his voice about to give him away. “Yeah, well. Never with a man, so. Not at this scale, anyway.” “Would it help to, er, practice?" Henry winces a little as he says it, which does not inspire confidence. But Alex is shocked nonetheless. What the fuck?

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There are moments in Henry’s adolescence, maybe even later, when he feels he doesn't belong to anyone. He is no one’s son. He is no one’s little brother. He is no one’s partner. He isn’t related to anyone at all. He’s just there really, just existing. Just an entity. Though he thinks he’s realistically always felt this, it doesn’t make itself known until he turns thirteen. Or: moments from Henry's pov

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After years of taking suppressants to hide his omega status, after the email leak and the election, after things finally settle, Henry and Alex spend Henry’s first heat together.

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5 times Henry is too scared to come out to Alex and 1 time Alex gives him the courage. Or, 6 times Alex slowly falls in love with Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, for exactly who he is.

*I HIGHLY recommend this entire series! check it out here!

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Nora helps June achieve her first vaginal orgasm.

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AKA ouroBROros, as dubbed by the Brownstone. The long awaited foursome fic. -- It’s late when they end up out in the yard, the fire from the firepit casting all of them in golden syrupy light under a dark sky. It feels like a night for secrets and Liam thinks it’s why he asks, Spencer’s hand a gentle pressure on his thigh.

cut | validvali | E | 12k

Holy fucking eyelashes. He’s all tan skin and bright eyes and charming smile— everything that makes Henry weak in the knees. Pretty brown eyes dart between the lineup and his clipboard, trying to put two and two together, but all Henry can focus on are those arms. Those hands. That arse. “Can I call you up, handsome?” Henry almost blacks out. [or, the five times alex and henry shoot a video together as (not so) strangers, and the one time they do as a couple.]

Silence & Sound | @nocoastposts | E | 2k

Alex tugs at his hair and tries to focus on choosing his next words. He knows that Henry will help him - that he wants to help him. He knows that all he has to do is say the word. Henry stands and steps closer, holding Alex’s chin firmly and tilting his head up so their eyes are forced to meet. “You need me to clear that lovely head of yours, hm?” “Please,” Alex says in barely a whisper. or: Henry helps Alex fill the silence before indulging in the sound.

Through All My Cards | @cactusdragon517 | E | 7k

Alex, preparing for top surgery, gives in when June suggests he not recover alone. Enter her friend, Henry Fox.

I love you (ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard) | coffeecatsme | E | 20k

Henry doesn’t doubt that, just as much as he doesn’t doubt now that Alex won’t have a single issue with him being trans. In another life, when Henry whispered it in the quiet hours of the night, he didn’t. In another life, when he kissed Henry anyway, he didn’t. In another life. In this one, when Alex meets his eyes, all there is left behind them is a cold glare that freezes Henry to his soul. One year ago, Henry had a whirlwind of a day with Alex after a chance meeting in a coffee shop, only to leave in the morning to protect his heart. He doesn't expect to see Alex again, until he shows up at June's wedding and finds out her brother is the same Alex he hasn't been able to get out of his mind for a year - and he's pissed.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) | @affectionatelyrs | T+ | 7k

“Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?” There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react. “Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?” [Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare]

At the end of a bar | @hgejfmw-hgejhsf | E | 9k+

Alex has a supremely shitty day at work and finds himself wandering into a bar where a mystery man catches his attention.

What do you have against color? | jumpsuit | E | 11k

Upon opening the hardcover of a found sketchbook to locate the owner's contact details, Alex discovers only this inscription: In case of loss, please return to: Instagram @henryfox.usk He, of fucking course, knows who Henry Fox is. That striking yet humorless, rude, and self-righteous British prick he met on the first day of the symposium. [Or, an AU where Alex and Henry are urban sketchers. A short story of how they get to know each other, fall in love and in bed within one day.]

Sunless Dusting Libraries | @itsmaybitheway | T+ | 7k

Henry should leave, he should wait until everyone is asleep and then silently leave, without a trace. As if he never existed in Alex's life, as if he never touched Alex's body, as if he never wanted only exist in his heart and mind. Because that is what Alex deserves. Alex deserves someone who can love him out and proud, someone who is not shamed for his existence, someone as bright as him, not the pale starlight gleam Henry is. But lying there on the pile of mattresses they piled together and called a bed- Henry can not even find it in himself to breathe, let alone get up and go. Betrayed by his own existence, once again. [or: what-If taken by a depressive episode, Henry can not leave the lake house?]

each time we touch / I wanna take too much | firenati0n | M | 1k

Alex keeps his head angled away from the couch, leaning his back against the base for support as he pretends to be engrossed in conversation with Pez on the floor; pretends not to shamelessly eavesdrop on Henry's conversation with some girl on the opposite end of the couch, a classmate in Henry's course on human sexuality and expression. He digs his fingers into the frayed edges of the shaggy rug, feeling the soft strands slip through his hands as he keeps his eyes on Pez. Keeps his ears on Henry, who's sitting behind him, his knee occasionally nudging Alex's back as he talks animatedly, his whole body moving as he gestures; all languid limbs, lithe body, loose lips, lazy smiles.

to repair a hollowed heart | coffeecatsme | E | 28k

Alexander Claremont-Diaz, the young ruler of the Underworld, the presider of souls that have passed away, has been banned from Olympus his entire life, on account of bringing death and destruction wherever he goes. His seat in the highest council of gods has been left permanently empty until someone sees all that he is and still falls in love with the man behind. It's been twenty centuries since the curse has been put upon him, and Alex has long since given up on finding the right person. [Or, a Hades and Persephone AU no one asked for]

back with more soon! see my other recs below:

vol i

vol ii

vol iii

vol iv

vol v

emotional hurt/comfort

kid fics

tag for all recs

#my fic recs #rwrb fic rec #red white and royal blue fanfic rec #firstprince fic #Henry x Alex

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tennessoui · 7 months

Note

I'm begging on my hands and knees for more Twilight au, and those are words I never thought I'd say! Anakin being able to resist compulsion, and Obi-Wan seeming instantly obsessed, and poor Shmi! Pretty please 🥺🙏

hey!! sure! here's some more!

(2.5k)

Having a sheriff for a mom sucked a lot when he was a kid growing up in a small town. There was probably nothing Anakin was rebelling against more at eleven, at thirteen, at seventeen than the rule of law his mother represented.

All things considered, she was pretty good at separating her home life from her worklife. It was Anakin who was bad at respecting the separation, Anakin who couldn’t keep son out of delinquent. There’s only so many times he could be pulled out of wreckage and bars and buildings with Keep Out No Trespassing signs on them before he got The Sheriff at home and out in public.

He’d hated it growing up and had come to grudgingly respect it later and in fits and starts. His dad dying had, terribly and ironically, helped a lot. His mother had had a stroke just before and then Anakin had been faced with the possibility of being an orphan, and the terror of that had mellowed him out.

Sorta.

He still hates a lot of things about his mother’s job. Especially the fact that she’s the sheriff of a very small town.

And when people talk, she listens.

The thing about small towns is that everyone’s always fucking talking. And other people are always fucking lsitening so they can talk later. One big fucking community, which means when Anakin comes home from his weird doctor’s appointment with Dr. Kenobi, a few hours later because he took a detour biking along the edge of the seaside cliffs just to spit in the good doctor’s metaphorical face, Shmi Skywalker already knows more than Anakin ever planned to tell her.

Like, for instance, “Sheila says that Dr. Kenobi thought it would behoove you to spend some time at the local library volunteering.”

Anakin pauses, backpack half-slung off his shoulders. He hangs his stuff up slowly, careful to keep his tone very light. “Did Sheila say what I told him after he said that?”

His mom’s silence is very loud.

“I don’t want to do i—”

“I asked the new librarian about it on my way home from the station. She thinks it’s a wonderful idea. Apparently we used to have a program like that in the forties but it died out during the war.”

“Mom, come on—”

“It’ll look good on resumes, saying you created and supported a local reading program.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit too old to be applying for babysitting positio—”

“It’ll look good for me as well,” Shmi says in her sheriff voice. “Elections are coming up soon. It’ll be good, if my kid was involved in the community.”

Anakin’s glad that his back is still turned to the living room, where his mom is sitting. “Are you gonna run again?” he asks, paying special attention to his tone this time.

“Why wouldn’t I?” his mom replies. “I’ve been sheriff for a decade and a half.”

Anakin lets his eyes fall closed for a second, knowing that his face can’t be seen. This is how they end up half the time: Shmi’s ardent belief that she is invincible, going up against Anakin’s desperate desire for her to be so.

And they just don’t talk about it. As if they’re actually in agreement.

He knows how this is going to shake out.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” His mother asks.

Anakin’s eyes remain closed. “I guess so,” he says.

—--------

Mrs. Kenobi—call me Satine—is sort of scary up close. She’s tall. She glides between bookshelves. Anakin’s never met someone who glides before. And she’s so intensely, incredibly, blindingly perfect that Anakin would rather be anywhere but in her vicinity. There’s something incredibly unnerving about the symmetry of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones. She’s obviously an absolute knock-out, just drop-dead gorgeous, but it makes Anakin’s skin crawl and his heart beat fast, but not in a good way or a normal teenage boy way.

Anakin tries to keep the unease off his face as Satine leads him through a tour of the library, a gentle hand on his forearm. That’s another thing Anakin doesn’t really like. She’s wearing satin gloves. He doesn’t know anyone who wears gloves anymore.

It’s just all a bit…unsettling.

“I put in a few words around the school yesterday afternoon,” Satine tells him. They pass by the mystery section, the fantasy section, and take a hard right into the young adult section. The shelves are smaller here, and Anakin feels rather stupidly gigantic as he and Satine walk through them. “To some parents picking their children up after school. They agreed it would be good exposure to bring them to the library for an hour or so of reading before supper.”

Anakin highly doubts it will be, but Satine hasn’t really asked him.

She sweeps past his figure and pushes open a pair of double doors with a flourish better suited for a Russian tsarina hosting an elaborate ball than a small town librarian showing off a small, cramped, and dusty room filled with padded seats and threadbare rugs.

And then, as if she has been waiting to put the last nail in the proverbial coffin, Satine adds, “A few students from the local high school will be here as well.”

“Sorry,” Anakin says, “are you saying I’m going to be reading to high school students? Can’t they do that themselves?”

After all, Anakin went to high school here. Academics hadn’t been too rigorously challenging, but they’d taught the fucking basics.

Satine raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow in his direction. “They’ll be volunteering as well.”

Oh. Right.

“It looks good on their college applications,” Satine waves a hand through the air and the words linger there. Anakin looks out the rather dirty window, jaw clenching. “I’ve already chosen a handful of books I think the young ones will enjoy.”

Anakin, committed to his fate, pads over to the titles placed carefully ontop of a short, stout side table.

“Peter the Rabbit,” he reads off the top. “Peter Pan. Alice in Wonderland. Treasure Island. The Prince and the Pauper—look, you’re the librarian here, but don’t you have anything written this century maybe? Harry Potter, even.”

“These are classics,” Satine tells him, her nose raised into the air as if she has encountered something particularly foul-smelling. She turns away, presumably to return to the front desk so she can welcome half the fucking town inside the library so Anakin can read them fucking Anne of Green Gables and become a better person.

“These are fucking boring,” he mutters to himself, flicking the cover of the first book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz open. Publication date: 1900. “I’d rather be in Kenobi’s office getting lectured at.”

There’s a sharp noise of disapproval from the doorway, and Anakin’s head snaps up to see the tail end of a very heated look from the librarian before the door closes behind her.

He shivers, alone in the emply room, and it takes several long minutes for his heart to settle back into its normal pace.

—----------

After the fourth kid sneezes, Anakin closes his book with a snap and stands from the very small chair they’ve got him sitting on. “Come on,” he tells the cluster of children he’s been assigned to. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Are you kidnapping us?” One of them, a snot-nosed kid who’d started the sneezing says, rubbing at her cheek beneath her glasses. “Cause mommy says that’s not allowed.”

“I’m not kidnapping you,” Anakin snaps back, barely holding in his natural follow-up to the sentence which is of course, I don’t want to be around any of you in the first place. “Also, just for future reference, you shouldn’t ask if someone’s kidnapping you after you already start following them.”

The girl scowls and reaches up her hand to hold onto Anakin’s.

For the love of Christ.

“We’re just going to go into the main part of the library,” Anakin tells his children, all six of them. “They have windows out there.”

They have windows out there and they also have parents. Parents who absolutely should be doing other things with their lives and precious hour of extra freetime.

Parents who are clustered instead around the library’s front desk as the town’s newest librarian holds court.

“Is reading time over?” one of the kids asks him, turning his head to look up at Anakin.

Anakin thinks about it. “Do you want reading time to be over?”

The kid thinks about it back. “Yeah,” he decides. “You don’t do the voices good.”

“It’s a boring book,” Anakin tells the kid. “Voices aren’t going to make it better.”

“Voices always make it better,” another kid says. “They make everything better.”

“Oh look,” Anakin says. “Is that your father?”

He gestures vaguely towards the cluster of drooling middle-aged somethings focused on Satine.

The kid peeks around his thigh and then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “That’s Dr. Obi.”

“Dr. Obi!” The kid holding Anakin’s hand says, and she lets go.

Anakin gets a bad feeling about this, a feeling that only doubles when he turns around to see Dr. Kenobi sauntering towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of a long dark jacket that makes him look even more pale than he already is.

He scowls automatically as the man gets closer. “Dr. Obi.”

Dr. Kenobi spares him a look that’s far too amused for Anakin’s pleasure before he crouches down to the level of the kids. “Hello there, young ones,” he says, opening his arms to accept a hug from the traitor of a girl Anakin’s just spent thirty minutes reading to. “Are you eating all your vegetables? Even the brussel sprouts?”

“I like brussel sprouts,” one of the kids reports sounding proud, and that starts a cacophony of opinions about brussel sprouts from all around Anakin.

“Wow! One of mine just absolutely hates them,” Dr. Kenobi says. “She refuses to eat them, so you’re very brave, Michele.” He lets go of the girl and turns his golden-brown gaze up to Anakin. “And what does Mr. Skywalker think?” he asks, raising a hand for Anakin to take. It’s very obvious he’s asking for a hand up and Anakin is obeying before he thinks about it. He snatches his hand free almost too soon, but Dr. Kenobi doesn’t even have the grace to lose his balance and fall over.

His hand is like ice in Anakin’s, and Anakin stuffs his fingers into the pocket of his jacket automatically a second later.

“Do brussel sprouts help with circulation?” he’s biting out before he can stop himself. “Cause you may need some then.”

Kenobi’s head tilts very slightly to the side as his eyes catch and hold onto Anakin’s. “Oh?” he asks lightly.

“You’re cold,” is all Anakin mutters in return. He swipes his other hand against the back of his neck. “”S poor circlutation, isn’t it? Something in your diet maybe?” Dr. Kenobi blinks at him and then breaks into a wide smile. “I can assure my diet is very…circulation-mindful,” he says. “Blood health positive.”

Anakin’s mouth thins into a line. He guesses that’s what he gets for trying to give health advice to a doctor, especially a doctor like Kenobi who just so happens to be devastatingly attractive and also smart.

And also an asshole. And also married.

Speaking of which. “Are you here to fend off your wife’s admirers with a scalpel?” Kenobi’s eyebrows raise. “Young ones,” he turns his head away from Anakin, down to the children.

The strangest feeling breaks of Anakin the second Kenobi looks away, almost as if a strange pressure he hadn’t even realized had been building was suddenly dissolved.

The very small beginnings of a headache begin to thrum in his temples.

“Young ones, it’s time to find your parents, isn’t it?” Kenobi says, and like fucking magic, the crowd of six children around Anakin disperse, children swarming away from him towards the group of adults surrounding the front desk.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Anakin blurts out, even though he’d meant to ignore Kenobi now that he doesn’t have to make nice in front of small kids. Not that he was really making nice in the first place. But now he definitely doesn’t have to.

Kenobi gives him a half-smile, eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s a special sort of skill that takes, above all else, much practice.”

Anakin scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Does Kenobi think he can’t commit himself to something even as mundane as a fucking commanding persona? Does he think he doesn’t have it in him to be–-

Kenobi’s eyebrows go up again. “Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly defensive?”

“You’re extremely nosey,” Anakin snaps back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have better things to focus on right now anyway?”

He gestures loosely towards Satine, who has started playing with one of the mother’s bracelets as the other woman stands and looks at her rather dumbfounded.

Kenobi follows his gaze and then lets out a huff of laughter. “Satine can take care of herself,” he says, even though it hadn’t really been Satine that Anakin was worried about.

He’s about to open his mouth to say so when Kenobi turns back to him. His eyes are piercing, a dark, captivating sort of gold.

“Do you find my wife beautiful, Anakin?” he asks.

Anakin blinks. His headache is getting worse, which is probably down to what can only be a trick-question fashioned to look like a grenade lobbed at his feet. “I don’t think there’s a good answer to that,” he mutters, rubbing absently at his forehead. “What the fuck.”

“An honest answer is a good one,” Kenobi says lightly. “Tell me honestly.”

The words feel pulled from Anakin’s stomach, and he’s opening his mouth before he realizes it. “No,” he says.

Kenobi’s eyebrows crinkle together. “No?”

Anakin curses his stupid impulse control. “She’s beautiful,” he adds quickly. “Really. But…it makes me uncomfortable.”

Kenobi’s lips purse, and then there’s something like disappointment in his eyes as he examines Anakin. “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I’ve been told my wife can make countless young men feel rather uncomfortable. It’s normal in men your age, Anakin. Sexual ar—”

“Uncanny,” Anakin blurts out. He doesn’t mean to, but he also doesn’t want to listen to Kenobi trying to lecture him on fucking arousal in the public library. When it’s not even relevant. “She’s so beautiful, it’s uncanny.”

“Uncanny.”

“Yeah, like. Monstrous.”

Kenobi’s mouth falls open, pink lips parted in what looks like honest surprise.

Anakin’s own eyes widen as it hits him that he’s just called Kenobi’s wife a monster to Kenobi’s face.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m going to go.”

He throws a look at Kenobi, whose eyes are lit with something a lot like interest and then across the library to where Satine’s head is turned, cocked, and eyebrows up high on her forehead, as if she’s just heard everything he’s said.

He decides rather immediately that he’s going to take the backdoor exit.

#asks #twilight au #obikin #a couple of things:#all the books mentioned are published before 1920 because satine was probably a young mother around that time #imo she became a vampire during ww1 #brussel sprouts tasted very bitter in the 60s through the 90s before we tweaked how they were grown genetics wise #so kids used to hate them and one of the vampires in obi-wan's coven was a kid during the 60s so has strong memories of brussel sprouts #being awful #satine's special vampire power is her beauty which is like double that of the normal enthralling/alluring/perfect predator beauty #so anakin's own sort of immunity to vampire powers a la bella means he just finds it unnerving and uncanny #but he did fall prey to obi-wans mind trick at the end there because the immunity thing i think would be something he has to practice #to get strong at #so his immunity kicked in at satine's beauty and it didn't affect him #but he couldn't also effectively protect himself from obi-wan's mind compulsion #to tell the truth #because systems overloaded

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beeanca-writing · 4 months

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That other anon was being an asshole, but I am curious about what you had planned for EfC? Not gonna lie, I'll miss the cast—would be nice to know what happens to who!

I'm still unsure what I'll do with EfC. I might come back to it once this current period of my life is over, though it'd likely be very different. First of all, it'd be a shorter story. I'd either get rid of some of the ROs, or find some way to better integrate them into the narrative (compare Harry, who you can have this huge, important backstory with vs Val, whom I love but is also just some guy, I guess?). It'd also probably be more focused on romance since that's usually what interests me the most in IF anyway.

I also might scrap a lot of it and stick to the storylines that interest me the most—mainly the Harry stuff. A shorter game dealing with The Hedonist returning to Court and having to face Harry sounds really fun to write, and it'd be a lot less complex to plan than this whole mess. Also, Harry is definitely a more developed character than some of the other ROs. For example, I love Camila to death, but she doesn't have much significance in the story other than "The Hedonist's friend" and I was never able to find her some meaning.

I'd also make The Hedonist even more of a fixed character by getting rid of all personality stats and focusing solely on their actions instead of worrying about personality. The stats were all carried over from CoG, and it's never been something I enjoy in their brand of IF. I was going to do this anyway when I first transferred the game to Twine, but stupidly asked Tumblr what they thought and, since most people preferred keeping the stats, I did that even though I didn't really want to.

As for to what would happen to the cast... In case I do come back to EfC, I don't think this would change much, so I'll put it into a read more in case someone doesn't want to know. If anyone has any more questions, don't hesitate to ask!

Grandma would die. Sorry!

Also, Cordelia was The Hedonist's twin who drowned in front of them, but that was a bit obvious, wasn't it? I'd definitely remove that from any rewrites, it's so unnecessary and cliché.

Henry would divorce Elizabeth to be with Nicholas. The Hedonist could either support him on this or not.

Due to the divorce, the rest of the family would be disgraced in Court. Evie's reputation is a little less affected if she's still with Harry.

As I mentioned in the past, The Hedonist can choose whether to stay in Court or not at the end.

The Hedonist and Evie can repair their relationship or not. Evie eventually makes an effort to become friends with The Hedonist, and you could choose whether to play nice or not. If The Hedonist romances Harry and you manage to have a good relationship, she forgives you, but asks for some time away from both The Hedonist and Harry.

I didn't really plan Camila's character arc well. She becomes a Republican rebel and can either still be friends with The Hedonist or have distanced herself a bit if they continue to be an asshole.

Sabina can choose to no longer be a nun if encouraged either by a friend or romanced Hedonist. If you romanced her but didn't encourage her to leave the convent, she dumps you. (Note: You later find out she was forced to become a nun by her family.)

Similarly to Sabina, Narcissa can choose to break things off with the Emperor if, again, encouraged either by a friend or romanced Hedonist.

Calvin's ending is the wildest one, actually. He finds out he's a father after the boy's mother passes away. The Hedonist can either tell him to abandon the boy or tell him to raise him (if Calvin is romanced, they kind of become a step parent).

Val can be encouraged to start studying to become a librarian. Also, his whole thing is that his father is the Emperor lol

Lastly, horse boy Harry will want to divorce Evie if romanced and marry The Hedonist instead. If you refuse to marry him, he divorces her anyway but doesn't stay with The Hedonist. A friend!Harry stays with Evie, I think? I don't know.

#have fun w all this info lol

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emsprovisions · 2 months

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“you really thought i wouldn’t remember what you like? please, give me a little credit.” from the trope prompts...go wild...

Title: it’d be so nice, right? Tags: Human au | exes to lovers | early-twenties gustho A/N: this is sooo heavily inspired by “skinny dipping” by Sabrina Carpenter Word count: 873 words Prompt: Tropes

Gus certainly wasn’t planning on running into his ex on Valentine’s Day of all days. Really, he’d hoped to never run into Matt Tholomule at all if he could help it. He was still trying to get over him almost a year later, and sure, Gus thought he was just being stupid when every little thing reminded him of Matt. He couldn’t even walk into a hardware store without thinking about his ex’s job, or the sets they used to build together for the theatre department at school.

So when Gus’s head snapped up when he heard the barista call a “double espresso over ice with light milk for Matt,” he wasn’t expecting it to actually be his Matt. He just figured maybe a lot of Matt’s had a terrible taste in coffee.

He wasn’t so lucky.

Matt caught Gus’s eye, having noticed him from the spectacle he’d put on when the barista called his name. He grinned that stupid lopsided grin that Gus remembered too well. There was a small scar on the right corner of his bottom lip. His left cheek dimpled with his smile. Gus gulped and tried his best to put a hamper on his emotions when it became increasingly clear that Matt was approaching him.

“Hi, Gus.” Gus’s insides tensed up hearing Matt’s voice saying his name. It felt so right. It felt so wrong.

He smiled cordially at his ex, trying to hide all of his true emotions so Matt wouldn’t be able to tell how much seeing him was affecting him.

Somewhere in his mind, a little animated Augustus was stomping on Matt’s stupid heart and his stupid face, Lizzie McGuire style.

“Hi,” he said back. Then, before he could help it, “How are you?”

“I’m good! It’s been awhile. You look really good.”

Gus felt his face begin to flush. “Thanks,” he said awkwardly, looking anywhere but Matt’s eyes.

“So, How’s your dad?” Matt asked, changing the subject.

Gus shrugged. “He’s alright, still working too hard.”

“Yeah,” Matt laughed. “My folks, too. Hey, how’s grad school going?”

Gus was a bit alarmed by the small talk. Matt was supposed to know all of these things about him already. He was supposed to be by his side. It was weird there were gaps in his knowledge about Gus. Though Gus realized that, in nine months, anything could be different with Matt. He wondered briefly if Matt was seeing someone new, if he’d already replaced him. Gus hadn’t been able to move on, hadn’t gone on any dates or tried to meet any guys–much to Skara’s dismay. It was Matt, his heart belonged to Matt, it always had. Right now, back in Matt’s presence, he was forgetting why his heart ever stopped belonging to Matt. He couldn’t seem to recall any of the ways they had self-sabotaged their relationship, their fights in Steve’s garage, Matt’s commitment issues.

“Grad school’s going well, I’m pretty much all geared up to graduate in the fall.” Gus said, smiling a bit. He was proud of the hard work that he had accomplished.

“That’s awesome! You’re gonna be the most bad-ass librarian, man. I’m still at my job and working slowly on my bachelor’s. I’ll probably graduate next year.”

“That’s great to hear, Matt!” Gus couldn’t be certain right now, but he was pretty sure Matt’s six-year long and counting degree in architecture had been one of the wedges in their crumbling relationship. It really had been a long time.

Matt suddenly looked around where Gus was sitting. “You didn’t get a drink yet?”

“Oh,” Gus said lamely. “No, I was, uh, waiting for Skara. She was taking pity on me on single’s awareness day.”

“Skara running late? Neeever.” Matt laughed. “Can I get you something though, while you wait, I mean?”

Every alarm bell in Gus’s head was screaming no. “Yeah, sure.”

“Venti upside-down caramel macchiato with oat milk?” Matt asked, pointing at Gus to confirm his order even as he started heading to the register.

Gus sat back in pure shock. “Yeah,” he nodded, eyebrows knit together as he stared at Matt hard.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t remember your order?” He grinned that dumb lopsided grin again. “Please, Augustus Give me more credit than that. After all, you remember mine too.”

Gus felt his cheeks flush with heat as Matt went to order his drink.

He came back a few minutes later with Gus’s sugary, caffeinated drink in hand. “You know, this has been really nice. Maybe we should do this on purpose sometime.”

Gus blinked at him. “What, like a date?”

“Maybe,” Matt grinned. “Doesn’t have to be. You free Friday? We could go to Antonio’s like we used to.”

“You don’t think there’s too many memories attached to that place?” Gus chuckled nervously.

“Not if we don’t sit at our old table,” Matt shrugged.

And Gus couldn’t fathom anything wrong with that. It was just dinner. It didn’t even have to be a date, Matt said so. And he missed Matt. So, so much.

“Friday it is,” Gus smiled.

They could just have dinner, it’d be that simple. They’d avoid their old table. There’d be no baggage. They could just exist.

Matt smiled back. “See you Friday!”

#gustholomule #toh #toh fanfics #valentines day prompts #drabbles #emsprovisions

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qqueenofhades · 4 months

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Completely shocking, out-of-the-blue prompt that I've never mentioned to you before, definitely not inspired by work:

Ivan is a grumpy librarian/archivist, and Fedyor is a researcher who comes by looking for information on Darklina and/or their connection to Nikolai, and he finds the background of a love story. Obviously, the main character is Ivan's Disgust at the Perception of Heterosexuality

The light in the windowless back office is dim, grainy, and often gives Ivan a headache within the first few hours of him getting to work, which is not ideal for improving his temper. (Then again, not much is.) And despite its flaws, he does vastly prefer it to actually having to interact with the library patrons, as there is literally nothing worse than that. Especially academics, who come in with their laundry lists and their obscure texts, their pet projects and their insistence that if he just looks harder, he's sure to find it this time. Ivan has entertained many, many happy visions of just walking out, locking the doors behind him, and setting the whole thing on fire. Not that he has done that, and he probably -- probably -- wouldn't. He needs this job. Employment for a notorious ex-special ops soldier is thin on the ground as it is, and especially when it means he can, if he plays his cards right, spend most of the day completely alone. But still.

It is now, however, winter break at Os Alta Imperial State University, which means the throngs of panicked students trying to finish their last-minute assignment have mercifully receded, and Ivan can mostly organize his boxes in peace. Or so he thinks, until the accursed tinkle of the Please Ring for Service bell summons him like a wrathful specter, sweater-clad and glowering, to the front desk. "What?!"

"Uh. Good morning to you too." The newcomer -- young, dark-haired, and holding a large manila folder which portends absolutely nothing good, raises both eyebrows. "Can I speak to the archivist?"

"You're speaking to him," Ivan growls. This welcome has caused more than one quaking undergraduate to flee in abject terror rather than ask for even one book, and he fondly hopes for a similar effect this time. But the newcomer -- too old for an undergrad, so probably an advanced doctoral candidate or junior lecturer -- is made of stronger stuff, and doesn't flinch. "Can I help you, Mr... ?"

"Doctor," the annoyingly handsome interloper (not that Ivan has noticed) informs him. "Dr. Fedyor Kaminsky. I'm the new lecturer in the history department, Modern Ravkan History, and I was hoping that you could retrieve a few records for me? Boxes..." He consults his notes. Ivan contemplates murder. "T-1343 and T-1345 especially?"

Oh, great. Not again. Kaminsky -- yes, he vaguely recalls that name, from a department telegram welcoming the new faculty and staff, but it is absolutely not germane to Ivan's further actions in any part. He knows what is in those boxes, and someone always thinks they'll find something there that hasn't already been found, removed, and/or heavily censored. Ravka's last tsar and tsaritsa, Nikolai Lantsov and his half-Shu queen, Alina Starkov, are a figure of fascination and mystery for plenty of people, even after the revolution and the establishment of the Konsilium and everything that befell them as a result. Especially their relationship with the so-called Darkling, Aleksander Morozova, one of the most enigmatic and controversial figures in all of Ravkan history. Doctor Fedyor Kaminsky thinks he's going to jump into his new job with that? Good luck.

"We don't have those boxes," Ivan says, which is almost true. The Konsilium strongly prefers, in general, that people don't look at them, and any other uncomfortable bits of their history. "Go away."

Fedyor Kaminsky folds his arms. "No."

Saints, Ivan thinks sourly. What has he done to deserve this purgatory? (The Konsilium has also tried to outlaw the Ravkan Faith, since they're all supposed to be modern and secular now and because nobody wants another Apparat, but old habits are hard to break.) He stares at Fedyor, who stares back. This is confounding. Why hasn't he run away in terror yet? Everyone else does.

"Sorry," Ivan says, and turns away. "Can't help. Good day."

Naturally, Fedyor Kaminsky does not take the hint. He's back again the next day, still politely and stubbornly repeating his request for those boxes, and when Ivan loathingly suggests that the library is on winter-break hours and does not have to accommodate him at all, cheerily asks if Ivan's boss, the director of special collections, would agree. The threat of workplace discipline (or Saints forbid, a note in his permanent file) is stiff enough to make Ivan finally, furiously recant. Fine. If Kaminsky wants to get himself fired before even finishing his first year, it's nothing to Ivan. Might be a perk.

So, when they're into the second week of the requests, Ivan gives in, stomps to the back, and angrily hauls down the boxes, which are gathering dust from all the times he has, according to the rules, refused access to them before. It's not wise for Fedyor to look at these materials in the open, so Ivan tells him to take them to one of the backside reading rooms -- which is right across from Ivan's office, and makes him grimly reflect that he should have planned it better. But Fedyor works steadily and mostly silently, which is always a commendation in Ivan's book, and finally, on one dead-silent freezing morning right after the Winter Fete, when they are literally the only two people in the library and probably all of campus, he gives in. "What are you looking for?"

Fedyor jumps, glancing up in patent surprise. They eye each other for a long moment, as if to be sure that Ivan Sakharov actually did, entirely of his own volition, initiate a conversation with another human being. Then finally, warily, he says, "What's it to you?"

Good, Ivan thinks. Good instincts, just in case I was in fact an informer for the Konsilium. "I don't care," he says aloud. "I was just curious. They seemed so important to you."

"I'm just working on something," Fedyor says, after a long pause. "Confirming a hypothesis. It'll probably get me into trouble, but -- " He shrugs, with no small amount of bitterness. "I'm used to that."

Ivan thinks about it. This can't go anywhere good, but they've been made a strange sort of partners in this buried secret, and he's almost gotten used to Fedyor working away outside his door. "What?"

"I think they were lovers," Fedyor says, after a final, reluctant moment. "Alina and the Darkling, that is, and then also Alina and Nikolai, and maybe all three of them together. I think it's a love story. And as for why this matters, well -- it wouldn't change anything about our own history right now, how it all ended. But the narrative has always been that the Darkling was this awful monster who had to be destroyed, and the Grisha were his secret shock troops determined to overthrow the country on his behalf, and that pulled Alina and Nikolai into some regrettable circumstance they couldn't control and that led to their tragic downfall -- you know. It's just..."

"What?"

"I don't think it's true." Fedyor shrugs again. "I think everything we know about our own past, about the fall of the Imperial House of Lantsov, and about the Grisha, is a lie. And if that's the case, then the Konsilium knows it, or has covered it up, and that means -- "

"Shut up," Ivan interrupts roughly. "Saints. Don't talk like that. Someone could hear you."

"You could hear me." Fedyor smiles a little, a shadowed eclipse, and it does something very strange to Ivan's innards. "Does that matter?"

"I... " Ivan's mouth is dry. He can't look away. Not for any reason that means anything. "Never mind," he says, which seems the best and safest option, if it isn't already far too late. "Go back to work."

Fedyor eyes him a moment longer, then nods, a deliberate motion indicating that he knows and understands Ivan is choosing to keep his secret. Ivan himself doesn't know why, or what it is about Doctor Kaminsky, the feckless and foolish and fearless, that's gotten under his skin. It could be -- but no, it's not, it can't be that. From time to time, the very brave or very stupid actually think that Ivan himself is good-looking and try to flirt, and once a woman actually asked him on a date, which was the worst moment of his entire life (does he look like a heterosexual?!?!) But it's just shallow, surface-level, not like they're seeing him. Not like they know what monstrosity lies beneath. I think it's a love story. As if love matters. As if love, and the simple truth of it, can change the course of history.

Ivan shudders, once and then again. He looks at Fedyor for a very long moment, allowing himself -- just for that short and fleeting instant -- to imagine something he can never, never have. He grieves for it as if it was real, and then he lets it go. Turns, and walks away.

#mearcatsreturns #ask #fivan #fivan ff #heartrender husbands #darknikolina #winter prompts

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kissagii · 1 year

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here’s a request idea.. armin always checks books out from his local library then one day he sees you working the counter and all of a sudden all his afternoons are being spent in the library and at some point he doesn’t even go there to read he’s just admiring you and mustering up the courage to ask you out

so sorry this took so long for me to write this ;-;

cw: gn!reader, 0.4k words, armin is a shy baby, it's just fluff <3

Working part-time at the local library was often boring, but you found ways to entertain yourself. Mostly, you spent your time behind the counter people watching, noting down who came in when, what they liked to read, where they sat, and who they came with. Some of the regulars were particularly entertaining, like the family that came in every Friday whose three children were unbelievably unruly.

But your favorite was a blonde young man about your age, a nonfiction enthusiast whose reading speed decreased exponentially over the months. When he first turned up, he’d devour half a book before leaving. But now he’d only get through a few pages, if that. I wonder… is he okay? He seems absent-minded. But you’re just the librarian, it wasn’t your place to get involved.

Until the day when he was shaking when he came to check out a book.

As you scanned it in, you asked, “Hey, are you alright? You’ve seemed a bit off lately.”

“Oh,” he said with an awkward giggle, “You’ve noticed?”

“Well, I like to keep tabs on the regulars, and you’re easily the most regular of them all. It’s kinda weird, but you start developing a concern for them, you know?”

“I see, I see, that’s actually really sweet.”

“Good, I was worried that you’d think I was insane,” You said with a laugh, “So, for real, are you doing alright?”

The young man - Armin, if you remembered correctly - nervously fiddled with his library card, looking in just about every direction but at you. “Yeah, but, I’ve been absent-minded because… you see… I was wondering if… maybe…. I could get your number? Or maybe take you on a date? Because you’re always really nice and patient with the unruly kids and you never look at me weird when I want a book about marine biology or military history and you’re just so pretty and- ohmygod I’m sorry I should’ve rambled like that I’m so sorry you probably think I’m crazy.” He ended his ramble abruptly, pink-cheeked and grinning in embarrassment. You felt a warm flush creeping into your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t apologize. Here,” You slip him a piece of blue paper with your name and phone number on it, “I’ve been meaning to slip it into one of your books but I just never had the confidence to. I get off early today, let’s meet at the café down the road in an hour or so.”

“Yeah, definitely!” Armin smiled brightly, then darted off with his books. As you returned to checking out books and helping customers, you noticed his sparkling blue eyes trained on you, watching in admiration as you worked.

That last hour couldn’t’ve passed faster.

#imagine ⋆｡°✩#armin #armin x reader #armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #snk armin #armin fluff #armin x reader fluff #armin aot #armin drabble #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #armin x gn reader

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uneducated-author · 8 months

Text

I got a present from a student of mine, a beautiful hardcover copy of 'Howl's Moving Caste' and I'm so happy, but it does remind me of what 10 (AND A HALF) year old me did when she found out that it wasn't in my local WHSmith.

Full of rage and vitriol I knocked on the door of every classroom in my school (I was a renowned introvert, so this was EXTREMELY out of character) and politely asked if anyone had a copy. I received Many Many Many rejections. Inconsolable I lay in the library and wept. Then, like a beacon from the dark, the librarian miraculously told me that when I'd asked earlier she was mistaken and 'oh, I think we have it actually! It's just in loan'

I've looked back in this moment with the benefit of hindsight and realised that the librarian, who knew me as the girl who'd hide from bullies in the reading room and spent lunch hours organising books, must have elected to specially order the book for me, and it makes an already sweet moment even sweeter.

But a week later, I was distraught again. The winter holidays were coming up. I would loose access to the only library that had this treasure. I was holding Diana Wynne Jones masterpieces in my hands, despairing against my upcoming tragedy, until it came to me. The perfect solution.

I just had to write the whole book.

'Oh you fool, you could not write three books in a week'

I could sure as hell try.

I was in a frenzy. I would shovel breadsticks into my mouths and fervently write at lunch. I stayed up late and wrote by torchlight.

(Honestly, I probably could have written by lamp, but torchlight felt more dramatic and I lived for the feeling it evoked.)

I wrote in my reading class, permitted because I'd finished the list of books and the assorted quizzes. I wrote in friday PE because the friday teacher never took attendance and nobody cared if a young girl had locked herself in the bathroom for an hour, scribbling away.

I learned how to write with my left hand, but I was too slow if I wanted it to be legible, so I worked through the pain.

So? Did I finish? Was my fervent effort rewarded? Books had to be returned to the library on Thursday so I didn't even have Thurday night. Would the fortnight be enough?

Sort of. I finished my transcription of 'Howl's Moving Castle' and 'Castle in the Air' but couldn't move on to the final book in the trilogy. Hence started my winter vacation. I poured through the story, luxuriating in the rereading. I impressed my mother with my skill in making whipped cream, turns out mixing is much less intensive than furtive writing.

And on Christmas, I opened a beautiful collection of three paperbacks. I reread those books until I could recite swathes from each, and memorised the whole first chapter, which I'd murmur to my younger cousins.

I passed those books down to a younger girl in the neighbourhood, who passed them down to her sister, who gave them to a friend who lost them on a holiday. I have no idea where they are now.

But I have a book, from a student who loves reading where she used to hate it, and revels in a story with happy ending and good characters.

I don't know if there's some greater meaning to this. But I love the story, and it's come back to me. And my wrist almost hurts remembering almost 100,000 words for this story, but I can't help remember how much I wanted it.

Sometimes I think 'do I have that passion now? Is there anything I'd care about to that extent, until it hurts, until I hate it?'

I was so foolish, but so so alive and that week feels impossible. I talked to strangers! I transcribed a book! I didn't give up, not for a second!

(In fact two years later I did the same thing for Good Omens, transcribing the copy at my library over the period of a whole Summer. I purchased a copy a year after that, and gave it to a friend last year.)

I'm proud, of what ten and a half year old me did. Not because it was specifically moral, or impressive. Because of how much she loved something that she resolved to do anything to keep it with her.

The frantic handwriting is unfamiliar to me. It's spidery and smudged. The paper seems unbelievably thin, and the script uneven and unlevelled. A whole chapter has been lost to water damage. I barely have any of the book memorised. I keep it all the same because ten (and a half) year old me would weep if I lost it.

A heart is a heavy burden. But I poured mine into a strangers words, and then into those pages. I can't give them away.

#howls moving castle #howl pendragon #sophie pendragon #good omens #not sure what this really counts as #storytelling?#important to me

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rriavian · 5 months

Text

So @jessamydreams-deactivated202311 sent me an ask but it disappeared before I could answer it!

No idea what I did wrong but it might be the deactivation. Thought I'd make my answer into a separate post :) I think they are now @jessamydream but I will remove the tag if not. I've used the questions they asked as little subheadings so hopefully this will all make sense.

What are the Corinthian's feelings towards Jessamy and Lucienne?

In your ask you mentioned Jessamy flying out of Dream's robe in episode one and I had actually completely forgotten about that! It is very intimate! I also have the most adorable image of her tucked in there and peaking her head out to judge people. During that first scene with the Corinthian she would have been right there listening. Ooh, if he had known it could be a reason for telling Burgess to get rid of her (for having witnessed him being rebuked?) but I also think that it was a practical choice. The Corinthian would have known she’d never give up trying to free Dream.

There might be some degree of regret, but I don’t think he really felt guilty for it. The Corinthian would very much see it as necessary, but it was also quite a self-serving way of soothing jealousy.

Personally I think he’s very jealous of the ravens!

Especially Lucienne. I think there’s this very real tension between them because of it. I do think the Corinthian is like ‘yes well you may be a human soul but he made me and I’ll have something you’ll never have’. The intimacy between an artist and their work I suppose. Though I also think it makes him resent the way Dream dotes on her, because she’s not held to the same standards as he is.

Lucienne has a freedom within the Dreaming that is unique.

She has changed from the role of a raven to that of a librarian, an agency within her place there that the Corinthian doesn't have in his. The ravens aren’t there to shoulder the burden of Dream’s role in the same way that his creations are. While that means the Corinthian can be smug about sharing that, perhaps seeing that he can do far more of the heavy lifting in terms of supporting Dream's responsibilities to the dreamers, he might also feel siloed by it. I’ve got some wips that play with this idea but yeah…jealousy, a bit of resentment, but also a lot of possessiveness.

They both have something of Dream that the other will never have.

How does the Corinthian feel about Dream visiting a human every 100 years?

Ok so I definitely think the Corinthian knew that Dream was meeting someone in the Waking World. But in many ways I don’t think he really cared too much. Based just off of what we see in the show the meetings themselves seemed very contained. It was probably seen more as Dream keeping an eye on an experiment, and I think any jealousy would be folded into the Corinthian’s resentment of Dream’s strict commitment to role.

So I don’t really think it impacted the Corinthian at all—especially given Dream’s nonchalance when Death reminds him about missing the meeting with Hob—I think he’s far more jealous of Dream’s relationship with Lucienne (and Jessamy/Matthew).

Is the Corinthian jealous of Dream's lovers?

In terms of Dream’s other relationships, I really need to finish my fic with Calliope and the Corinthian so I can delve into this a little more.

But in truth I think the Corinthian probably feels similar to how he feels towards Lucienne. When Dream married Calliope he probably saw it as ‘yeah you’re his wife but I’m his favourite creation so how does that really compare’?. A weird mix of jealousy and possessiveness? The same as with all the relationships I think – the Corinthian is very much like ‘he is mine in a way he’ll never be yours’. And he’s proven right most of the time in how quickly the lovers come and go, in how easily (in his eyes) they give up.

I think the Corinthian is satisfied by that, looks down on them, is amused when a new one comes along like ‘oh? How long will you last before you do your best to break his heart?’

The Corinthian knows that eventually they will leave, that the Dreaming will return to how it was before. So maybe there is a little bit of protectiveness too. I think he considers them unworthy, unable to really appreciate all of what Morpheus is, and again that is something he’s consistently proven right about.

Calliope is probably the only one who he felt actually ‘threatened’ by though.

Interestingly enough (to bring this back to your questions about Lucienne and Jessamy) Dream’s longest ‘relationships’ are arguably those he has with his ravens. I think that's why the Corinthian is far more jealous of them then any new/old lover. There’s a degree of compatibility and love between him and them that is incredibly powerful, incredibly unique. And it lasts. There is always loyalty and care there, the ravens understand him, and they all stay with Dream throughout everything he has to be without flinching. Even when things end terribly (as with Jessamy’s death).

Hopefully that answers your questions!

Don’t feel guilty about asking too many! I really enjoyed thinking about this and putting some of my thoughts into words. I always love your questions <3 Please ask as many as you want and, hopefully, this time I won’t take as long as I did to answer the other one you asked me!

#dream of the endless #the sandman #the corinthian #corintheus #character meta #it's a pretty long post but hopefully a good read

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ghostofskywalker · 2 years

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Just One Evening

Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 18 of 31

Words: 1,165

Summary: When Bucky asked you to be his date to an Avengers gala, you were a little nervous to say yes.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“So what do you say?” There was a hopeful look on his face as he waited for your response. “Will you do it?”

“I don’t know Bucky, I think it might be better if you asked someone else.”

This was not how you pictured your afternoon going, and you never expected that Bucky would approach you as you were shelving books and ask you to be his date to an Avengers gala later that week. You liked Bucky (maybe a little more than you wanted to admit), but the idea of meeting all the Avengers and being expected to dress to the nines made you more than a little nervous to go. And besides, it’s not like you and Bucky were actually together anyway. You friendship with the super soldier had grown quickly in the time that he started spending in the library you worked at, but it was just that, a friendship.

“Please?” he asked. “I don’t know who else to ask, and apparently it’s required that I bring a date to this shindig.”

Your resolve was crumbling with each look he gave you. “What exactly is the point of the event?”

“Some fundraiser thing for Stark Industries, but all the Avengers need to be in attendance. Or at least that’s what our PR lady said, and she heavily implied that we should all have dates. I know it’s probably not your idea of a fun Friday night, but they’ll be an open bar if that influences your decision. And it’s just a date, it’s not like I said I had a girlfriend or anything.”

You stifled a small laugh before responding. “Alright,” you said. “I’ll go with you.”

Instantly, you could see a look of relief cross Bucky’s face, and you could tell he had been worried about this for a while. “Thank you so much Y/N, I owe you.”

Despite the slight worry now building in your stomach, you tried to offer a comforting smile. “No Bucky, don’t worry about it. I just have to figure out something to wear.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that under control,” he said, and you stopped shelving books and stared at him.

“No offense Barnes, but I don’t think you’d be my first choice to take dress shopping with me.”

He laughed, a sound that you didn’t hear too often but one that never failed to take your breath away when you did. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “Clara, our PR manager, said to us that when we get our dates, all you need to do is send her your body measurements and preferred styles and colors, and she’ll work with a designer to come up with something for you.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Really? Why?”

“Tony may be someone who can get a date on short notice, but some of us aren’t really great when it comes to interacting with regular people,” he said. “So I guess it takes one hurdle away from trying to find a date, and it’s a thank you for putting up with me for the evening.”

You nodded, still processing this development, and thinking about what you wanted to tell the PR manager and the designer about your outfit. “I don’t need a fancy outfit as payment for spending time with you,” you said. The ghost of a smile crossed Bucky’s face, and you really hoped that he knew that you meant every word of that. “However, I am going to accept this offer because I don’t own anything as fancy as I have a feeling this gala is.”

He laughed again. “I figured as much.”

***

When you had originally sent your measurements and design ideas to the email that Bucky had given you, you really weren’t expecting much. You never really had any luck when it came to online shopping, as things always fit strangely even when you used the provided size chart. You tried to pull together a “last resort” outfit from your closet, this way if the outfit provided was past the point of no return, you could still show up in something remotely nice and try not to embarrass yourself. Unfortunately, the life of a librarian didn’t really lend itself to fancy parties and designer gowns, so the best you could pull together was something that would probably fit in at the library’s yearly holiday party more than a million dollar gala, but it would have to do.

But standing here now, you couldn’t believe your luck. The dress that had been delivered to your work two days ago fit perfectly, and the fabric had a slight shimmer to it, catching your eye every time you moved. You had sent a few color choices in your email, and they had unwittingly picked your favorite, only adding to your love of the dress. You didn’t want to think about how much it probably cost, especially when you saw the signature of a very well known designer printed on the box, but you felt like a million bucks.

Bucky was supposed to arrive any minute, and you put the finishing touches on your appearance right as there was a knock at the door. And when you opened it to reveal Bucky on your doorstep, you almost wanted to drop dead. He was wearing a tuxedo, his hair combed back and perfectly in place, and you stopped breathing for a moment as you stared. Bucky had always been attractive, but right now you felt so out of his league as you looked at him.

Lost in your thought, you barely noticed that Bucky was looking at you the same way you were looking at him. His breath hitched when you opened the door, and he really wanted to kiss you. “Wow,” he said, after an embarrassingly long period of silence. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said, stepping out and closing the door behind you. “So do you.”

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his arm for you to take.

“We shall,” you said back, a small giggle escaping your mouth. “Don’t want to be late meeting all your friends.”

“Oh definitely not,” Bucky said. “They’ve been hounding me for days about meeting you.”

“You’ve talked about me?” The shock was evident in your voice.

“Of course,” he said. “When Tony and Sam found out I was bringing someone tonight, I was practically interrogated.”

Nervousness bubbled in your stomach at his words, but you tried to remain calm. There was nothing about his words that made it seem like this would go anywhere farther than the one evening, as much as you hoped it would. Instead, you tried to look on the bright side: that you’ve never looked more amazing than you do right now, and you were about to go drink and eat some expensive things. The night was going to be fun either way, and the fact that you got to spend it was Bucky was a big incentive as well.

- the end -

#ghostofskywalker.fictober #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader

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jessefandomunited · 5 months

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Library Vibes

I had a very short idea about being a librarian starting to close up for the night and realizing Spencer is still there. I was at work late and my brain is mush so bear with me lol

Spencer Reid x GN reader ( I made extra care to not put anything regarding gender, race, or name .trying to be as inclusive as possible enjoy)

It was a cold rainy night , one that always caused my mind to wander. The sky darkened much quicker and I thought of nothing but the rhythmic thrumming of the rain pattering against the expansive windows and skylight. The thunder rumbled as I finished putting another book back into its place and casually checked my watch. " ITS NINE," I Gasped much louder then I mean to which made, probably the last person here, drop their book , startled.

" I'm so sorry," I apologized walking towards the man hunched over picking up his book," the rain made me lose track of time, we've been closed for thirty minutes." He stood up and I knew who he was. Instantly I was flustered. Spencer Reid of the BAU came here often when he wasn't busy to just read surrounded by books. I noticed he'd always grab about ten thick books and get through them all quicker than I thought anyone could read. We've had a few conversations about books and his job but nothing more. I wanted more , so much more . I wanted to pluck up the courage to ask him on a date, but I just didn't know how, but this may be my best chance.

" hey im sorry too i should have known to leave i just assumed you'd kick me out whenever it was time to close up," he said awkwardly piling the stack of books he had been reading ," im typically very good at keeping track of time." I laughed ," I'm sure you are the genius that you are." I swore I saw him blush when I said that . Instead of brining it up though I began gathering the books he had been reading to put them in the return basket for me to resell later. " I can do that , I shouldn't have kept you here so late," he blurted scooping up the remaining books, " I mean , I remember where got them all too." I smiled and instead of telling him what my original plan was I nodded and said ," I'd love that."

As we methodically put back each book I noticed that he had been reading a series I'd mention was my favorite. It was a bit childish compared to his other ones but I felt touched. " so how did you like it,"I pried handing him each book in the series. " not what I normally read but it was fun, I thought the story was very fanciful and reminded me of being a kid again, at least the good parts of that," he said stumbling over his words. "Oh," I said not wanting to pry into his childhood," well I'm really touched you read it." Red was creeping up his face again ," it's no problem, I enjoyed it." I felt this push in my gut saying " here is your chance." " you know .... I havnt had dinner yet have you," I pressed measuring out my words carefully. He shook his head," no ." " perfect, would you like to go out then," I blurted feeling a bit foolish. He looked stunned like he couldn't believe I had actually said that ," yes... like out out , like a date or like a friend thing?" My smile broadened," a date, I am asking you, Spencer Reid, on a date." " I'd be honored," he said almost giddy.

With that we walked to the front of the library, I locked up, and we were officially on a date. Now I just needed to find a place that was open

#spencer ried #spencer reid x reader #fanfics #fanfiction #criminal minds #I'm trying to ease myself back into writing so be gentle with me lol

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nyx22-blogs · 9 months

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A Library Incident

So hi- I know I’ve been gone forever 😭 but what better way to come back than with great content! (hopefully great content lol)

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It was currently 6pm when you decided to leave your apartment and visit the library to borrow a couple of new books your friend Wanda recommended. Her favorite of the bunch was a romance novel about two teenagers, a young girl and a vampire. And who were you to pass up a good vampire romance novel?

You walked out your apartment and locked your door. Making your way down the stairs you made sure to say hi to Ray, the owner of the apartments’ cat. He meowed happily and rubbed against your leg before running back behind the front desk. You walked out the door and felt the blast of the summer heat, suddenly grateful you were wearing your comfiest pair of summer shorts and a striped shirt.

You continued walking and made a left on the corner shop. The library’s mahogany doors made its way into your view and you smiled. There was nothing more relaxing to you than being able to sit in a nice, peaceful space to read. As you walked inside the library the scent of the librarians’ perfume made its way to your nose. You scrunched your nose in distaste, the smell was a bit too strong for your liking, but continued walking until you made it to your favorite section of the library. Romance. You decided to put your earbuds in and listen to some music while you looked for the book. You passed rows and rows of books, gathering the few she had recommended while letting your fingers glide across the bookshelf, until a specific one caught your eye. ‘The Chronicles of A Young Girl and A Vampire.’ This was the last one you were looking for.

You put the books down so you could grab this last one. The only issue was it was a bit high and you couldn’t reach it. How annoying. You tried to tip toe and stretch your arm a bit but the tip of your fingers could barely even touch the bottom of the book. So that definitely wasn’t going to work. You didn’t want to jump and grab it because you could plan the entire scene out in your head, missing the book by just a bit but instead of landing on your feet you tripped and knocked down some books on your way to the ground. You shook your head and tried to think of what else you could do. You didn’t want to ask the librarian either because in all honesty she freaked you out. “Excuse me?”

“Excuse me? Hello?”

You didn’t hear him because of the music you were playing but then he tapped your shoulder, scaring the absolute crap out of you, and you spun around a bit too quickly causing you to lose your balance. You closed your eyes and made a sound that was a mix of a shriek and a scream, but you were still conscious of the fact you were in a library so it was much quieter than the usual shriek or scream.

But instead of feeling the impact of the ground you felt a pair of arms wrap around you instead. You looked up and a pair of concerned, blue eyes greeted you. You had to admit that he was quit handsome, more than handsome really.

“S-sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, you were just standing there for so long…I wanted to know if you needed anything.” He said, stuttering a bit.

Your earbuds were no longer blasting music that probably could’ve been heard a mile away, even with the buds in.

“I- uhm it’s ok…and I actually did need something..you think you reach that book up there for me?” You said, smiling shyly.

“Oh yeah ‘course.” His long arms easily grabbed the book you had pointed to and he placed the book in your hands.

“Anything else?”

“No..thank you for uhm, the book..and catching me.” You said, chuckling a bit at the last part.

“Yeah..uhm no problem.” He said, sharing the same goofy smile you had plastered on your face.

“Your hands seem a bit uhm..full, maybe I could help you check this last one out?” He mumbled the last part, unsure if you’d say yes or no.

"I'd love that actually..." You handed him back the book and he walked with you.

You noticed him open the book, just at the first page, but didn't think much of it.

While walking to the librarian to check out your book you stole a couple of glances at each other, quickly turning your faces when one caught the other. After checking out all of your books you both said your goodbyes and parted ways. Walking out the library door you looked back and waved goodbye again, he smiled and waved back.

When you got home you set down your books, deciding which one you should read first. The vampire novel looked appealing.. especially after the events of today. You opened the book and a little card fell out of it.

It was the books library card with different dates recorded. You picked it up and placed it back in the book, but as you gave it a second glance you smiled to yourself. You realized why he had flipped to the first page in your book.

He wrote his name and number on the library card.

You giggled and grabbed your phone, thankful that Wanda had told you about those books, and even more thankful that you couldn't reach the book in the first place...

~Nyx 💜

#nyx22 blogs #I’m back bitches #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #fluff #soft bucky #bucky x female reader

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babybluebanshee · 1 year

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Things I've Had To Deal With As A City Librarian: I'm Just So Tired

Haven't done one of these in a while, and things have just been...they've been a time, let me tell you.

*We caught a guy hiding in one of the bathroom stalls after closing. We check the bathrooms to clean up any messes for the next day, and Julie knocked on the men's room door. No one answered, so she went in and checked the stalls. Didn't see any feet so she starts opening the doors. She gets to the handicap stall, and she tries to open it. It's locked. She mutters something about having to unlock it, and suddenly a voice from inside calls out, "Hey, I'm still in here." Julie nearly shrieks. The guy claims that his fly was stuck, but given the fact he didn't say anything when Julie came in and we couldn't see his feet under the stall door means he was probably crouched on the toilet, hoping we'd think the bathroom was empty and he could spend the night in the library.

*My coworker Allie did a cute little display in the kids area where you can write a letter to Curious George. She even made cardboard mailbox for it and put out a bunch of books and movies for people to check out. The amount of vandalism this thing has seen is unreal. One night a kid poked holes in the mailbox with a colored pencil. I was doing a walkthrough after a particularly rowdy family was in the kids area, only to discover that they have thrown everything on the display into the mailbox - the books, the movies, the postcards, the coloring materials, even one of the book stands. We spent about ten minutes fishing everything out.

*Speaking of displays, I did the Black History Month one this year. I worked on it for three months, and to be honest, I was very proud of it. It took up two tables, full of historical events and famous figures of black history. Needless to say, since black history is so damn expansive and my space was limited, a lot of people ended up getting left off (especially local people I'd never learned about). The amount of times people told me I left out a person they personally believed should be on it drove me to distraction. Two separate people told me I missed Kamala Harris (which I'll be kicking myself forever about). One woman asked me why I didn't redo the whole display to add one local figure she thought needed to be included. One woman asked me why she herself was not included one the poet's wall, because she was a published author. No, she was not kidding. I guess I should be thrilled that people were actually interacting with it, but at least a few people telling me I did a good job would have been fucking nice.

*To branch off from the black history month display - the city has an anti-discrimination policy when it comes to people reserving rooms for events. The only thing we explicitly do not allow is social events like parties and anyone attempting to sell something; everything else is fair game. This means we get a lot of obnoxious groups whose views we really, really do not agree with - homeschoolers, churches, conservative clubs, and, my personal favorite, the Sons of the Confederacy. Or as Rachel and I like to call them, The Sons of a Bunch of Loser Piss Babies. They had a meeting there during February, and Rachel was working that day. One of them, in his stupid little gray hat, was standing talking to someone...right next to my black history month display. Rachel told me she wanted to take a picture because the juxtaposition was...stark, to say the least. We're really not that surprised Failfuck McStank didn't notice the irony.

*We've had a guy coming in with his guitar and just...hanging out in the study rooms to play. We can't really do anything about it unless he's too loud or someone actively complains, but we're all kind of puzzled about the library being his first choice of places for a jam session.

*There's a pair of teenage girls that have been coming in for about four months now and their punk vibe is immaculate. The first time I ever saw them, one of them had a giant bleach blond mohawk, a leather jacket with studs, hot pink and black striped stockings, and the most badass combat boots I've ever seen. Her friend had a bleach blond buzzcut, a black jean jacket covered in patches, teal leggings, and red converse that were falling apart. Sherri stumbled on them chilling in the kids area, and noticed the buzzcut one was bent over something. She got closer and realized the kid was knitting a scarf. Mohawk comes in more often, and always has a thick book with her, just lounging in the chairs and quietly reading for a few hours. They're my second favorite patrons and hope they never change.

*A woman was interested in attended my classic book club meeting back in June. We were reading Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, so I gave her a copy. She didn't attend the meeting. She returned the book a few days later and said it was "gross". While she was there, she also picked up her inter library loan of a "romance" novel about a woman falling in love with her abusive stepbrother. I'm all for people reading whatever the fuck they want, but I also feel like if you're gonna read stepsibling porn, you don't get to call lesbian comics gross.

*Two women came in with a little boy who was absolutely bouncing off the walls. They did absolutely nothing to control him - one of them was busy talking to someone on her phone (on speaker till someone complained), the other was perusing the shelves - and the kid was just kind of running around being a nuisance. I was walking back from helping someone in the computer lab and saw the kid taking off his shirt. I told him he had to keep his shirt on, and that's when one of the women finally turned to me and said, "He wants to put his Spider-Man costume on." And I'm like, "Lady, that's great, but you're in a public space, not your living room. Have him change in the bathroom." Luckily they didn't hang around long after that, but fucking hell, the entitlement.

*A woman came in to fax a police report to her lawyer, and Sherri and I ended up being privy to the sordid tale of having her car stolen. She was out with a guy she met on Tinder, and they went to a bar in the next town over. They were getting ready to leave, but she wanted to have a cigarette, so they were standing by her car in the parking lot. Suddenly, three police cars come shooting up, right next to them. Turns out the dude she's with has a warrant out for his arrest. He panics, grabs her keys out of her hand, jumps in the car, and fucking peels away. He ended up crashing it into a ditch less than ten miles away, totaling it. She doesn't even know what warrant was for.

*It's very funny whenever I call anyone for reserve reminders or things like that, because people are so used to getting calls from robots and scammers that they're immensely suspicious any time they answer their phone. And it makes the absolute 180 they do into delighted toddlers, excited to get their books, that much funnier. The scenario usually goes like this:

Me: Hi, is this [insert name]?

Patron: *clearly doing the suspicious Fry face* Yeeeees...

Me: This is Blue, at the library! I was just calling to let you know you have a book on reserve ready for pick up!

Patron: *brightening instantly* OMG thank you! Oh, I'm so glad you called! You've made my day, you guys are wonderful!

Never fails to make me chuckle.

*The assistant librarian is in charge of a lot of the teen programs we do, and by far the most popular are her teen book boxes - the kids fill out a form of stuff they enjoy, and she puts together a box of three books, plus crafts and snacks, for them. On average, she does about twenty of them a month. However - because we are located in the heart of Conservative Brainrot Land, where a not insignificant portion of the population thinks if they're a good little conservative who hates what Fox News tells them to, Tucker Carlson will come give them the hug their dad never did - this has also given us great insight into the minds of ultra controlling parents who would encase their kids in wax if that could keep them from learning things they don't want them to. One particularly baffling example started with a mom asking that no "social justice" be included in the box. The next one asked for "no gender identity". This time? No inclusion. Like...I get why she put that. Because inclusivity = woke = liberal = the devil. But like...do these people hear themselves? Do they know what words mean? Also, I told the AL that she should just give the kid an empty box. She did not follow my advice.

*On the flip side of the crazy, controlling parent thing, y'all remember this family from a while ago? The one where the aunt came in and said Pretty Little Liars had opened a satanic portal that drove her niece to a mental hospital? Well, I'm happy to report that I think the mother of that girl might have had a face turn. The same kid just recently returned several books from the Anita Blake series (which are pretty mature as far as sexuality goes), and she's been in talks with the AL to volunteer for us, informing her that she doesn't know her schedule just yet because her mother is letting her start public school. I like to think the mom looked at that whole situation, took a long, hard look at herself in the mirror, and thought, "Ya know what? I don't think I want to be like this anymore. I think this is a problem." And ya know what? Good for her, and good for that girl. I hope it does them both a world of good.

#woe to the librarian #the conservative brain rot is starting to leech into my professional life #and i'll be here to report on it every chance i can

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