#i went to the library this month and have a nice stack of books to get through

[kuwdora]

tagged by @poetikat ! ❤️

Currently Reading: I recently finished Defekt a sci-fi novella by Nino Cipri. A queer anti-capitalist adventure taking place inside a fictionalized IKEA with some world-hopping elements and other SF elements. The main character is Derek and he finds out he is not as alone as he thought and finds community and discovers some interesting things about himself. It was sweet and cute. Definitely made me want to punch management in the face. Great story. I'm gonna go and read the first novella in the series now.

Last Song: Oh, whatever that RuPaul song is from that improv dancing video I've seen on my tumblr dash several times this week.

Currently Watching: I recently finished Midnight Mass. I'm also watching Only Murders in the Building, Ahsoka, Nailed It! Baking Challenge. Star Trek Lower Decks!!! And the occasional Suits episode.

Current Fic: Currently in the middle of reading several long fics. 😍 And So We Fall Together (The One With The Unicorn) by galeaspida, AMAZING Yennefer/Tissaia story. I'm also rolling around my Ciri and bandit feelings with @poetikat 's At Another Time. I've also got @dragneto 's Midnight Mass fic ...in vitam aeternam in my to-read queue this weekend while my religious horror feelings are still fresh. I'm just CHOMPING on those tags. I have a few other stories I need to pull out of my saved tabs this weekend.

Writing: Going to be working on my Vilgefortz fic edits. I'm also trying to make headway on some yennskier/geraskefer stuff and a smattering of other witcher wips.

Next on watchlist: my to watch is so long, I haven't picked anything out yet. Probably something from my horror list since I'm behind on horror films from the last six years. Or maybe John Wick 4.

Current Obsession: I'm still rolling around in a variety of witcher feelings for all the canons. It doesn't want to let up. I have so much fic and many vids to make and try to finish. uhhh I don't know who to tag for this round so if you want to do it!! do it! and tag me please so I can read. ❤️

[moviecritc]

like the movies ⋆ max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x actress!reader

summary: even though you've been all your life acting, you never experienced a love like the movies, until max appeared in your life

word count: 1.7K

warnings: none, just pure fluff

a/n: I'm going through a max verstappen phase, so if you have any requests for a blurb or something cute, send them <3

english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

"Are you breaking up with me over the phone? While I'm on my way to your parents' house? Are you stupid or what?" With each sentence, Y/N's voice grew louder.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry. But…"

"But my ass! Don’t you have any common sense?"

She could hear her boyfriend sigh, and she sighed four times louder than him.

"You are too… cold-hearted for me," he finally said from the other end of the line.

Y/N stifled an exclamation. Cold-hearted? How could she be if she was an actress? She was the warmest person he had known.

"You're always focused on your job and yourself, I need someone…"

"Idiot!" Y/N interrupted him. "Just say you don’t have enough self-love to date an independent woman. You worthless piece of shit."

She hung up after her sentence, not wanting to hear her ex-boyfriend's response. She parked the car and ran her hands over her face. She looked at herself in the little mirror of her car, touching up her lipstick and reassuring herself that she was a good person worthy of love.

She got out of her car and went directly to the bookstore in front of her. She still had quite a few books in her apartment to read, but she didn’t mind. It was her third breakup in four months, and she was starting to wonder if she really was the problem, and the only thing that could distract her from that was spending money she didn't have.

She began to pile books on her arms, and by the fifth manuscript, she started to wobble.

"Do you need help?"

Y/N blinked and peeked her head out from the stack of books, meeting a blonde with a very un-London-like accent and skinny jeans who looked like anything but someone who worked in a bookstore. She didn't know that strangers were now offering help out there.

"No, thanks," She took a step and added a sixth book, enough for all of them to fall. "Shit!"

Y/N felt so embarrassed she even blushed. She knew everyone in the bookstore would be watching her, and that terrified her.

"May I help you now?"

Y/N looked up, having completely forgotten about the presence of the stranger, who was looking at her with a kind smile.

"If you insist…" She smiled a little while rolling her eyes, which made him smile too.

They picked up the books together, which were a bunch of rom-coms. For a moment she thought he would judge her choices, but he didn’t make any gesture.

"I'm Max, by the way"

Y/N blinked. She had no idea what was happening, it seemed totally unreal that a stranger would help her pick up her books and suddenly introduce himself.

"Do you like Sally Rooney?" he asked, holding the last book she'd picked.

Y/N realized that this guy wanted to keep a trivial conversation with her, like those you have in nightclub bathrooms with girls. But this time was a bookstore, not a library. And not a girl, but a Max.

"I’ve never read her, but I saw Normal People, the series, and I was left wanting more," she explained, with a shy smile. "Y/N, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," he showed her a gorgeous smile. "I read the book, I haven’t had time to watch the series yet."

"Oh, it's really good,"

The conversation flowed too easily. She wasn’t used to talking so normally with someone she had just met a few minutes ago and moreover without it being awkward, but that was how it was. Y/N told him about the books she planned to buy and the one she was reading now.

"Excuse me, we're going to close," an employee informed them. In London, shops always closed in the mid-afternoon, for lunch, and although Y/N had arrived around eleven-thirty, the clock was almost striking one. "Are you taking the books?"

"Sure, yes," said Y/N at once and turned to Max. "Hold on a sec."

Max waved his hand, telling her not to worry, that he would wait. She paid for the books and quickly returned to Max.

"Do you have plans for this afternoon?" Max asked directly. Y/N loved the confidence in his voice.

"No, I don’t,"

"Can I invite you to lunch?"

"I'd love that,"

Y/N went to leave the bag of books in her car and she and Max walked to a nearby restaurant, continuing their conversation. It still seemed extremely surreal to her, in what universe does she break up with her boyfriend and moments later meet the nicest guy she had ever known?

"What do you do?" Max asked, once they were seated in the restaurant.

"I'm an actress," she pursed her lips. She was still in the phase where it was hard for her to admit she worked in that field.

"I'm not much into movies," Max commented, scrunching his nose.

"Great because I do theater,"

"Really?" he leaned back in his chair, impressed. "I don’t frequent the theater either, to be honest."

They both laughed softly and Y/N sipped her drink. "And you?"

"I work with cars,"

Y/N furrowed her brow, waiting for him to specify a bit more. "In a repair shop or how?"

That caused a small laugh from Max, leaving Y/N even more confused.

"Yes, exactly. In a repair shop," he continued with a wide smile.

"Well, if you like cars, there's some Prix thing here this weekend. There are tourists everywhere, it's terrible," she complained, rolling her eyes a bit.

Max gave her a goofy smile. That was perfect. Simply perfect.

"Really?" he arched his eyebrows slightly. "I had no idea."

"They do it every year. A silly thing," Y/N shrugged, letting the topic pass.

They continued talking for a long time about how Y/N once almost knocked down the shelves in a bookstore.

"Just like in the movies!" Max said, laughing.

She nodded, also laughing. "I swear things like a character in a tragicomedy happen to me."

They continued laughing for a while, then Max squinted a bit, resting his head on the palms of his hands. "And don’t you think it’s very movie-like that someone picks up your books for you?"

Y/N looked around, with sudden terror. "Where are the cameras, Max?"

He threw his head back laughing with a soft scrunch in his nose. The sound of his laugh felt really warm for Y/N.

"I hope nowhere," Max was right. Too good to be true. Too good to happen to her. Her look darkened a bit, and Max noticed it quickly. "Something wrong?"

She looked up and shook her head a little. "It's just… Is this weird?"

"I don’t think so, unless you want to make it weird. I’m pretty good at that,"

Max got a small smile from her.

"It's just that I’m used to…” Y/N thought about that sentence. “To things like this not happening to me. I haven’t been doing too well in love this past year,"

"Oh, me neither," Max didn’t mention the part about being a famous person and everyone wanting to be with him out of pure interest and not because they really liked him. "It's complicated."

"Quite," she pursed her lips. "Anyway… I have a performance at a theater in Soho on Thursday, you could come by. If you want, of course."

Max bit his lip; he had his first free practice that day and likely several meetings and driver duties.

"Oh, I'd love to. What time?"

They exchanged phones after the meal, which dragged on quite a bit, so that Y/N could send Max the location of the theater. And to exchange several messages throughout the day. They didn't see each other again until the day of the performance, but in that time, they had written dozens of messages. Y/N would tell Max about the series or movie she had watched that afternoon and recommended that he watch it, even though it was more than likely that Max hadn't turned on a TV in months.

Thursday arrived, and Max managed to sneak away from a meeting, arriving just in time for the play.

Y/N was nervous, and her co-star wasn't helping.

"Y/N!" Her co-star approached practically running. "I just heard that a famous driver is watching the play."

"Really?" She didn't care too much. She had been without news from Max for hours.

Luckily, he appeared at the door with a kind smile and a bouquet of roses. "Hi,"

Y/N flashed a smile and went up to him, instinctively wanting to hug him. Max, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, left a short kiss on her lips. She instantly blushed.

"Hello," Y/N greeted, with a silly smile. "Gorgeous flowers."

Max looked at her co-star, who was completely astonished.

"Lily, are you okay?" questioned Y/N, still hugging Max.

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating a famous driver?"

Y/N turned to Max instantly.

"What do you mean, 'famous driver'?"

Max pursed his lips slightly. "Aren't you going to call her out on the 'dating' thing?"

Y/N paused for a moment, trying not to laugh at what Max had said.

"Y/N, this is Max Verstappen. The Formula 1 driver!"

She lifted her chin and looked at Max again. "Formula 1 driver?"

Max scratched his neck.

"I think so…"

Y/N paused again for a moment. "And you let me mock your career just like that?"

"It's because you're strangely nice, what can I do," Max shrugged, causing Y/N to laugh.

"Well, I'm not one to deny it," she smiled a bit, then kissed Max's lips a second time. She placed a finger on his chest. "Though we're not dating, huh. We need to have a second date before we throw it all in for each other,"

Max burst out laughing. "Like they do in the movies?"

"Absolutely."

taglist; @theseerbetweenus

[bratdotcom]

Oh, Honey

( college!Ford Pines x reader || second- not first date jitters )

Ford's eyes were trained on the paper slipped into his newly bought electric typewriter, he adjusts his glasses with his palm as he types. Unsurprisingly, having six fingers on each hand helped a lot when trying to reach an essay word count. 

Ford somewhat wishes he went to the library to type out his paper. His fingers were starting to cramp from making contact with the keytops of his typewriter. Maybe asking Fiddleford to tweak with how the keytops were fixed would help with the spacing? He'd have to ask later. 

Ford hears a knock on the door.

He almost falls out of his chair, something under his sleeve makes a loud beep sound. It was his watch. It was supposed to remind him of something. He couldn't remember what.

"One moment!" He calls out to whoever was at the door, adjusting his glasses again. He stares at himself in the reflection of his window to check if he at least looked somewhat presentable. Ever since he woke up at nine, he's been working on his paper. 

He messes with his hair to make it seem like he actually brushes it in the morning, running his fingers through it to make it look nice. "I-I'm coming!" He looks away from his reflection at the door. Whoever it was, they seemed impatient.

Surely, it wasn't that serious, the knocking seemed to get louder and louder and- oh. 

He forgot about you. He also forgot that it was a Saturday. And that the paper he was working on wouldn't be due until next month. 

Ford almost trips over his untied shoelace as he scrambles to answer the door.

"G-greetings." Again, Ford adjusts his glasses. This time, because he was embarrassed. He can't believe he forgot he agreed to a date. A date with you. 

He smiles awkwardly, already feeling his face heating up in embarrassment.

He's red by the time you make eye contact with him, while he's trying his best to avoid making eye contact with you. "You look great." He says, not having looked toward you once. Not like he had to. He knew you probably looked better than him right now. He was still in the clothes he wore yesterday- he was too busy working on equations to change into his proper sleeping clothes. His fingers tug on the cuff of his button-up sleeve. 

"And you look," you look him down from his head to his shoes. Which he most likely, also, slept in. "Comfortable." You say with slight amusement. Ford could hear the smile in your tone.

"Thanks." He replies, looking down at the floor. Ford then realizes that he's wearing his dress shoes. And that one of his laces was untied. 

To avoid embarrassing himself more, and to avoid looking at you, he immediately kneels down to tie his shoe. He can feel the sweat build up around the collar of his shirt. He mentally slaps himself in the face for wearing white. 

"Were you powdering your nose or something? I heard you struggling in there." You look over his back and into his dorm. You see papers sprawled out on a desk, three questionable-looking coffee mugs, chewed up pencils, and sticky notes. Everywhere. Like he was trying to remember everything. 

Ford gets up, you both hear his knees crack loudly. Which wasn't normal. At all. Good grief. He needed to go out more.

"You...you can come in, if you'd like." He says, unable to stop himself from stumbling on his words. He steps to the side, once again, almost tripping on something he forgot he had put on the floor. This time, a stack of textbooks he placed next to his dresser. 

"Thank you." You say in a pleasant tone, looking around the room. You couldn't tell which side of the room belonged to Ford or to his roomate. Both sides were equally messy and somewhat neat.

"My bed's uh, right there." He points to your left, to a bed with a book laid face-down on the comforter. "Don't mind my roommate's side- he's working on something right now so don't touch anything- please.”

You smile along to his words. "Sir, yes, sir." You pretend to salute him as you traverse through the room, making sure to be careful where you step. 

You were going to be the death of him. And you didn't even know it yet.

"I'm going to the washroom! Uh, please excuse me!" Ford says in a tone louder than he wanted to say. He quickly turns around and makes a beeline to the bathroom. You snicker to yourself as the bathroom door closes behind him.

"I will, don't worry." You say loudly enough for him to hear over the sound of him turning on the bathroom sink. He felt stuffy. And sweaty. 

"Get. Yourself. Together." He points at himself in the mirror, glasses off. He needed to calm down. He desperately needed to calm down. How did he get the second date? How? 

This wasn't even the first date. He passed that base! Like what Fiddleford said! Why was he still nervous? 

He splashes cold water onto his face to wake himself up, stray droplets splash onto his shirt. Looking in the mirror again, he bares his teeth at his reflection. 

Ford brushes his teeth- just in case. You haven't kissed yet. But it wouldn't hurt to brush. He couldn't remember the last time he brushed his teeth. Or if he did this morning.

He wipes his mouth on his towel before looking in the mirror one last time. He looked presentable. He hoped that in your eyes, you thought the same. 

Opening the bathroom door, he's met with the sight of you sitting on his bed. Looking around at all the posters he and Fiddleford hung up. Sometimes, he forgot they were even there. 

"Do you like the decor? You can take a poster if you want." Ford had no idea why he was offering you one of his posters, but that's what people do on a date, right? Give each other things? Gifts? 

You chuckle as you turn him down on his offer. "No thanks, I think my roomie would kill me for messing with the decor back at my dorm." Come to think of it, Ford's never actually been to your dorm before. It was always you going to him, not the other way around. Ford laughs along, not knowing what to say. 

"So, are you ready for our little field trip?" You ask, watching as he stepped around the room to search for something. Ford wasn't actually looking for anything in particular- he just wanted to seem busy, so you'd think he was cool. "Field trip?" He repeats with a raised brow. "Yeah, we're going to that café with the good pumpkin lattes, remember?”

"So we're going into town, then?" He asks, slapping himself on the forehead mentally when he realizes how stupid his question must've sounded out loud. Ford could do fifth dimensional calculus but couldn't be smooth for the life of him. "Yes, we're going into town." You reply, leaning your elbows against the foot board of his bed.

"Let me grab my coat." He says, playing with the collar of his shirt as he opens his closet. To add insult to his multiple figurative injuries, several hat boxes and shoe boxes fall straight out of the closet and onto his face.

"Oh shit!" You exclaim, quickly getting up from his bed to help him.

Ford tries to angle himself in a way that wouldn't get his face squished between several hat boxes and shoes. He's never done anything this physical in years.

"Uh, here. Let me..." You carefully pull off his glasses so that they wouldn't get in the way. Carefully, you pull each box off of his person in a way that wouldn't hurt him and place each one onto the floor. 

It was a silent exchange, Ford couldn't see, and you didn't really know what to say to make this feel any better.

You try your best to slip his glasses back onto his face. You almost poke him in the eye. "Sorry." You both say in unison, which makes Ford's face go red. For a man who prided himself in being an overachieving genius, he surely felt stupid now. 

He stumbles back, almost falling over the boxes you set aside earlier as he reaches for his coat. "Let's go, then?" You say, watching as he folds his coat onto his arm. "Y-yes. Let's go." 

For the first time ever in his life, Ford extends his arm out for you to hold onto. He keeps his fist closed as he does so. He hopes he's doing this right.

[snek-panini]

As promised, I've got more books to share and they are all fic binds. Have a look at this new one:

This is Among the Stacks by MeinirRhos, and it's one of the few post-s2 Good Omens fics that I've liked enough to bind. It's canon-compliant and full of pining, fluff, angst, and a memory loss plot and I knew before even finishing it that I wanted it on my physical shelves.

I kept it pretty simple on the outside, with Library Summit book cloth and white HTV for the title. Large parts of the fic have to do with libraries and library books, so I thought it would be fun to make it look like a library rebind, something that looks innocuous and blends in to the shelves but it's actually going to be your new fave once you open it up and start reading. I wanted very badly to have the titles hand-written in embossing inks but I couldn't get a clean enough line with the textured cloth, so this handwriting font saved the day.

More photos under the cut; I'm really proud of the typeset for this one!

Top view, with pre-made end bands and a ribbon bookmark. Going with the library rebind aesthetic, I didn't think it ought to have handmade end bands, so these were perfect. Honestly I'm not sure the ribbon bookmark fits the theme, but you can pry that from my cold dead hands. All my books have them and I love them too much to leave it out. The endpapers are cream-colored cardstock, and while they look plain they feel nice. I tried out a new-to-me corner style, the library corner, where you don't trim off the excess material at the turn-in. It's supposed to be more durable than other styles and is common in rebinds. Library Summit is stiffer than most of the other book cloth I've worked with, so it was a little challenging to get it to lay flat while drying, and it's a bit bulkier than I'm used to, but it's perfect for the theming. Unrelatedly, it also holds a hinge crease really well.

Title page. I could not be more pleased with this title page design. I showed it to my husband after I finished the text block but before I had the cover on it, and he didn't realize at first that it was one of mine. I have cracked the code of professional title pages. The graphics were, at the time I put this together, available for free on rawpixel. I'm in love with it. It is sexy as hell and it will never be equaled.

Couple more interiors. The chapter header font is called Book Ends and I found it on DaFont. You add in the little plants and stuff with symbols. I haven't done much with custom fonts until this batch of fics, and in some of the others I've got in the pipeline I went a little nuts with them, but I think this one's my favorite for how well it fits the story. I also started experimenting with formatting text messages in this fic, and I'm very pleased with how those came out as well. The Renegade Bindery discord has resources on this kind of formatting, so check them out if you haven't already. I'd never have gotten them so professional-looking otherwise.

And that's it for this bind! I started working on it back in April and I'm thrilled to finally be able to show off the finished product. Thanks @rhosmeinir (Hi! It's Amberfly from Ao3!) for giving me permission to bind it nearly six months ago.

[turvi]

Promises-2

For the first time in months, Y/n was somehow able to get a fully rested sleep. Severus had a spare room for her that he used to store ingredients and utensils for his potions. The room had a small library filled stacked with books from up to bottom and one small bed that was lit by moonlight.

Despite all the things Severus had stuffed in this room it still had enough space to move around. Severus quickly dusted the bed despite it looking quite clean. It looked like Severus used this room for his restless nights in the company of his favourite books with the moon overlooking him.

"This room can feel stuffy so feel free to open the window" he suggested now standing there fiddling his fingers. Before Y/n could say another word he interrupted

"If you need anything feel free to ask me I am up anyways"

Y/n nodded and Severus was out of the room in no time letting Y/n settle down in the new environment. Y/n reminisced about the last time she met Severus and how has not changed a bit, if anything his eyes looks softer than before, kinder, sadder.

She got up from the comforts of his bed, his smell so present it felt like he was there but the cold sheets said otherwise. She thought of making breakfast, it was the least she could do. She had to make herself busy it was the only way to keep her mind from spiraling into dark thoughts.

As she carefully walked down the stairs she saw Severus up and working on a potion on his makeshift table in his room. Guilt filled her heart. She felt like she was taking advantage of Severus while he was just happy with the organically grown ingredients he was using.

She went to the kitchen and saw dishes piled up in the sink. She went ahead and tried to wash them as quietly as she could. Soon she knew shy everyone called Severus a dungeon bat as he sneaked up on her and almost scared her to death.

"I'm sorry Severus I disturbed you" she gasped trying to calm her heartbeat.

"No, you didn't but why are you washing the dishes Y/n"

"You helped me Severus it is only right I help you too"

He sighed and pinched his nose bridge. He thought why can't everyone be just like him. What is the point of being so nice?

"Go sit down I'll make breakfast for you"

"You will not eat?"

"I am already late for school Merlin knows Potter and his little army will make my day hard" he complains to you. He would be lying if he said he didn't like that someone was listening to his complaints. On most days he wished the walls had ears.

"Potter that name sounds familiar"

"Yes he is the son of James and Lily Potter, great people" he snarled

"Really? Oh how lovely" you said thinking he actually meant that

Severus stared into the void questioning his existence. He really asked Merlin today how come he gets to meet such people but then again he never saw you at Hogwarts, he didn't know who you were you were just there.

"Would you mind if I ask you a question?" He asked plating her breakfast. He placed the plate in front of her and sat across from her. It felt weird having company. This felt very intimate yet Severus tried to focus on the question.

"You can" you replied with a sweet smile. Severus never saw you smile. He is glad he did now.

"I never saw you at Hogwarts yet you are somehow connected to its happenings how?"

You took a deep breath. You know you had to tell him. There is no point in hiding it. The man gave you shelter when you needed it the most no question asked. You looked up to see he was waiting patiently.

"I perform ....black magic, my mother taught me, she used it to cure people and it is one of the things that remind me of her. One day a man came by my place. He was pale and very sickly. He told how no healer had been able to heal him. So he was under my shelter until he was back on his feet." You looked back to find Severus still listening to you his finger fidgeting. "He told me his name was Tom Riddle. He was impressed by my skills and told me a powerful witch like me had been using her powers incorrectly," she said wiping away the stray tear that fell down her cheek.

"One stormy night he came back, he killed my mother. He told me I had to be on his side and make him victorious. He tortured me every night since that night and made me use black magic for the wrong purposes." Severus panicked when she started sobbing, he hesitantly held her hand which felt warm against his cold palms.

"I am sorry I didn't mean to hurt you, I just needed to understand your situation"

"It's alright Severus you don't need to apologize I can understand it is just too much and I am scared for the first time in months I felt fully rested last night, usually woken up by a nightmare or just couldn't fall asleep because news got out that the Dark Lord is returning." her voice broke.

Severus looked at the time and now the professors will start asking him questions, but he couldn't leave you like this.

"Would you like to come to Hogwarts? You can sit in the library, we have some creatures I can ask Hagrid to let you meet them, you can sit in my office albeit it can get boring." Severus never thought he would ever get to brag about Hogwarts but he knew you were hurting and thought about things that helped him distract from his harsh reality.

"You wouldn't mind that?" your voice was low and Severus was thankful it was usually quiet in his house.

"Not at all, you can get some sunlight, and meet others, especially Minerva," he added awkwardly he just hoped you were comfortable

"Thank you for being nice to me Severus"

"No Y/n I have to thank you, well now I know how you were able to heal my wounds so quickly, but you wiped my tears and reminded me that I have some good left in me, that I am not the monster everyone thought I was." his breath hitched when you got closer to him not breaking eye contact. Your eyes looked so beautiful under the sunlight Severus thought.

When you touched his arm he flinched but quickly calmed "You are a great man Severus I know it because you regret the mistakes you made and you are willing to correct them"

He nodded and looked away from your eyes "I... uh we need to leave now"

"Sure I will get ready quickly" with that you took the last bite of your breakfast and beelined towards your room. Severus watched you retreat, he wishes he doesn't get attached to you, that won't go well

A/N: REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK IF YOU ENJOYED THIS. TAKE CARE.

[vii-is-free]

Parseltongue or Snoring

Summary: A moment between Natty and Sebastian that she often thinks about.

---

"Phew." Natty sighed. Another long day at the library complete.

She carefully tread up the stairs, as to keep from dropping the stack of books in her arms, pushing the door open with her shoulder. The extra homework Professor Weasley assigned was killing her social life, as was that dreadful field guide. She welcomed the bright ambiance of Central Hall, eager to spend the afternoon with her dorm mates.

As she approached the top of the stairs, Natty noticed Garreth Weasley, waving at her. Next to him was Leander Prewett, whose attention was focused at something near the doors to the greenhouse.

“Hello Natty,” said Garreth, “would you like a bit of help with that?”

“Ah thank you!” She said, offering the stack of books his way. Garreth ran his fingers down two, no, three book spines, leaving Natty with only her field guide to carry.

“I hope my Aunt Matilda's assignments aren’t driving you too bonkers.”

“Of course not,” Natty lied. She glanced at Leander, who was chuckling to himself. "What are you two doing?"

“Just watching our dear Slytherin classmate across the way.” Leander pointed at a small figure crouched against the corner of a wall. Natty was surprised to see it was Ominis Gaunt of all people. His head was dropped down, eyes closed, and Natty noticed the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders.

Was he...sleeping?

“Is he okay?” Natty asked.

“Ominis does this quite a bit,” Leander said, “Sleeping outside. Not sure I blame him, considering he dorms with Sallow of all people.”

Natty was only four months into her first year at Hogwarts. She kept to herself mostly, as the considerable amount of schoolwork made her too busy to do much else. Of course, it did not help that she was constantly under her mother's watchful eye. She was grateful to be in Gryffindor, as her housemates always went out of their way to make her feel included. As a consequence, however, she did not have much experience with students outside of her house.

She didn’t know Ominis, but she knew his connections with dark wizards. He seemed friendly enough. But Natsai knew many wolves in sheep’s clothing, and to gain her trust wasn’t easy. She preferred to keep a healthy distance between the two.

“Isn’t he from a wealthy family?” Natty said, leaning against the banister of the stairs.

“Not just any wealthy family,” Garreth said, “The Gaunts. Direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin.”

“They’re so obsessed with their bloodline,” Leander said, “they’ve taken to marrying their own siblings.”

Natty frowned. “He's going to marry his sibling?”

“Doubt that,” Garrett said, “He hates his sisters."

Natty found something endearing about watching a supposed rich kid from a pure blood family sleep on the floor like that. Perhaps she was wrong about him?

Was he a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Or just another lamb up for slaughter by his own family of dark wizards? Natty couldn't be sure.

"Anyways," Garreth said as he leaned the stack of books against the railing. "Do you hear that?"

Natty leaned forward, focusing her attention on Ominis. Through the sounds of the students’ chatter and papers flying in the air from magical books, she heard a soft rumbling coming from his direction.

"Is he...snoring?" Natty chuckled.

"Perhaps!" Garreth said, "Or is it Parseltongue? Leander and I are waging a bet."

“Snoring,” Leander murmured, “Not that I've ever actually heard Parseltongue. I imagine it’s just a bunch of hissing.”

“Me neither, but....I’m gonna say-"

“Levioso!”

Natty's stack of books fell to the ground, and she jumped at the sight of Garrett and Leander being swept off their feet. She turned her head to see a chuckling Sebastian approaching them.

“Garreth! Prewett! Nice to see you this afternoon."

"You as well," Garreth said shakily, glancing quickly between his feet and Sebastian. "It's just a bit of fun between Leander and I, nothing insidious!"

"Put us down!" Leander demanded, his arms flailing about.

"Funny I should catch you here, Garreth," Sebastian said with a smirk, “I found something interesting in Madam Scrivner’s desk!” He effortlessly kept the wand steadily pointed at them as he used his free hand to pull a stack of looseleaf papers from his robe.

“On hand detention notices for one, Garreth Weasley,” Sebastian waved the notes in front of Garreth's face. “I considered selling them back to you but, I think I have other plans in mind.”

“Oh, Sebastian!” Garrett laughed nervously, “Come on now!”

Sebastian smirked, a flick of the wrist released the levitation spell, sending Leander and Garrett crashing to the floor. He placed the papers back in his robe pocket and started walking towards the stairs. He stopped in front of Natty, and looked in her eyes.

“He’s snoring, by the way.” Sebastian said. The playfulness on his face evaporated at like one of Garreth’s failed potions.

“Ominis never speaks in Parseltongue.”

[bittermuire]

Divorced rhysta angst plsss 🥺🥺

DIVORCED RHYSTA YOU SAID????

.

March 15th.

There are seven yellow roses on her desk.

Nesta runs her thumb over her left ring finger, where the band used to sit. She keeps it in a dish with all of the rest of her jewelry. It has little company. She wears little jewelry.

-

She was waiting in line at the pharmacy when they met for the first time. She’d noticed him blundering around, loitering a bit—it took him fifteen minutes to pluck up the courage to talk to her. But she’d been uncaffeinated and exhausted and he took the brunt of it.

She’d rear-ended him in the grad school parking lot when they met for the second time. She was mortified. He seemed relieved. He was funny. His name was Rhys. He taught in the physics department. She told him her name was Nesta, she taught in the literature department. What do you teach, he asked. She inspected the cars. She inspected him, hands in his pockets, sleeves of his button-down lazily rolled up. Medieval romances, she said.

-

She wanted tenure, so she was up til two most nights, flipping through worn copies of journals and reviews, scouring the internet.

They were serious by that time. They’d been seeing each other for about a year. She was researching, working on a book, working at coffee shops and the library, and he was sitting across from her, working with equations, working with numbers he kept like magic tricks in his mind.

Nesta’s book was on marriage in medieval romances. Ironically that was when Rhys was looking at engagement rings. They had a small courthouse wedding in January. They moved into a little house, a five minute drive from campus. 

-

She should have seen it coming, really.

She married Rhys, after all. Dr. Rhys Irwyn. He was teaching level 300 or 400 or 500 courses called things like Thermal and Statistical Physics and Quantum Mechanics I and Quantum Mechanics II and Stellar Evolution. Gorgeous things she couldn’t touch, couldn’t conceptualize. And he was tall and handsome. He wore glasses. He wore slacks, button-downs.

Anyway—they’d been married something like seven or eight years when she saw him in the car with the TA for one of his courses. Nesta knew who the girl was. She was a pretty, bright student. Her husband was holding that girl’s face, kissing her like he loved her.

-

“What’s so special about it?” He laughed. “It’s a day. Neither of our birthdays, need I remind you.”

She sighed. “It’s just nice, don’t you think? March fifteenth. It sounds right. It’s beautiful.”

“Fine. It’s our holiday, then. It’s a day made for you.”

“I knew you’d understand.”

“I love you.”

“Be quiet, I’m grading.”

-

She didn’t bring it up for a while. Months went by. She didn’t acknowledge it but she didn’t touch him, either. He bent his head to kiss her and she looked away.

On some windless autumn day she’d locked herself in a bathroom stall, squatting, hand clenched over her mouth. That evening she handed him the divorce papers and told him to sign. They had a fight. He lost quickly. He signed them by the end of the week.

-

There are seven yellow roses on her desk.

Nesta checks the calendar on her desk. On her bookshelf she has a small picture of her cat. A rosary, the last gift from her mother. Edith Wharton, Virginia Woolf, Alice Hoffman. Slim volumes of poetry about ghosts, and grieving, stacked atop each other.

She stands there a moment, then grabs the stems, stripped of thorns, and throws them out.

.

[lakecountylibrary]

Howdy! I live the area and want to know how to best support your library right now amidst all the book bannings and political suppression of library resources nationwide. Other than checking out books and stuff, how best can people support their libraries?

What a lovely question. Thank you for asking.

Of course using the library as you mention is important! But other than that I'm happy to say it's pretty simple. Here are our four top suggestions:

1: Tell your friends how great the library is. It can be as simple as posting your book haul to your blog, wearing a pro-library pin, pestering helping all of your friends and family get library cards, or using the swag we hand out at Farmer's Markets: just little day to day things that spread the word about why libraries are great.

We call this advocating for the library and what it does is build up a strong wall of positive feelings about the library in peoples' minds that can stand up to whatever insidious lies book banners come up with.

If you want to get really extra about it you could write to your local politicians (especially the ones who appoint library board members) or newspapers just singing the library's praises - it's rare for politicians in particular to hear about us unless there's a problem and getting in with some positivity while things are quiet could influence them when things get loud.

2: Pay attention to your library. You, my wonderful anon, have obviously already got this one down, but for the folks in the back - when the beacons are lit and the library calls for aid, we need everyone to answer.

Find out how your local library communicates and tune in. That may mean subscribing to their email newsletter or following them on social media - wherever they're talking, go there and listen. What you've heard about happening in other states can easily happen in yours and this is how you'll know exactly what your library needs when the time comes.

3: Vote in your local elections! Library boards are appointed by elected officials (for example, ours is appointed by various school boards, the Lake County Commissioners, and the Lake County Council). If you want a board that will defend readers against book bans, vote accordingly when the time comes.

4: Say nice things to your librarians, in writing if possible. Are there comment cards at your local library? Fill one out. Is there an online form? (Ours is called Ask a Librarian but it's for comments too!) Submit one telling us about something we're doing right.

Tell us how much you love the last event you went to, or how thrilled you were to find a certain book on our shelves, or how much you liked that Pride Month display. I don't care how small it is, if it made you happy we want to hear it.

These kinds of things are lovely to receive and a huge morale booster - and they are also direct, quantifiable evidence that we WILL print out and stack up in front of the board of trustees, politicians, the local news, the pope and/or Dolly Parton. As needed.

Those are our top tips! They seem suspiciously easy, right? Don't underestimate how helpful they are - and how helpful YOU are.

[zosociologist]

"Dating Peter Tork Would Be Like..." [Scrapped]

[Teacher!Peter x Librarian!Black!Female!Reader Headcannon]

A/N: This was bound to happen eventually...just glad I was able to get this out of my system; WwaBRiM per usual and likes, comments, & reblogs are strongly encouraged(=

Era: Mid-70s (around the time Peter became a teacher)

Warnings: Mentions of fooling around, and light makeout stuff.

Yeah, you knew who Peter Tork was....as did every young woman that came of age in the 60s and had a working television in the house.

Re-run episodes of The Monkees is what helped you get through your last year of college, and although you hate to admit it, you'll be forever grateful(:

Your love for sharing knowledge led you to get a Bachelor's in Education, but your spite of those around you saying that men don't like women that are "overachievers" got you your Master's in Library Science.

You have quite a few interests: you paint, sing, and play the guitar now and then, and read and write a lot of poetry and stories. 

So, you took those skills and became a Librarian at a nice high school in the hills, and the job is very enjoyable, just as you would’ve expected it to be.

You expected there to be hundreds of things checked in and out per day and thousands per week, resulting in hours of restocking shelves and setting displays.

And you were expecting to have engaging conversations with students as they tell you about their recent reads, while you return the favor by giving them even more book recommendations to further expand their minds.

What you DID NOT expect when the new school year started, was for an oddly familiar man to approach your counter inquiring about an instructor’s copy of a textbook that he’d ordered for his science course. 

And you’re still not sure if it was your slight gasp or starstruck demeanor over the random circumstances, but something made him chuckle at the situation while you spoke in disbelief, “Nooo, you can’t be”, “The only problem is, I am”. 

Far off from his former band days, Peter grew his hair out much longer and sported a beard that you thought fit him very well. He also dropped his alias and went by his actual surname, Mr. Thorkelson. A subtle change that made a huge difference.

At first, you weren’t so sure that Peter could be that friendly a person, even bashful at times, but you learned early on that it was all genuine. 

That was just the kind of person he was. On the job, Peter could talk to anyone and make friends with everyone. 

But after a while, you noticed he went out of his way to make conversation with you…even though the library is nowhere en route to his classroom.

You two soon became good friends, bonding over various things from literature to your shared love for the folk music scene. 

Whenever you had free time in your schedules, you’d be at each other’s respective workstations scribbling ideas on chalkboards or making pyramids out of lost library cards and bookmarks (that you’d return to the students that lost them immediately after). 

Somedays you and Peter could even be found in the teacher’s lounge, sharing reviews of movies you’d watched in theaters that past weekend. 

Your coworkers started calling you “two peas in a pod” and neither of you minded it…as a matter of fact, you were both kinda hoping the phrase spoke for itself. 

There would be days when you’d set a big apple on his desk before he got to his classroom in the morning, and he’d return the gratitude by waiting until you were in the back of the library somewhere, ID-ing some publishers, before placing a folded paper crane on a short stack of books on your counter. 

Of course, there was something there! But nobody said anything for fear of ruining the great friendship you both had cultivated for months.

But in the thrill of the moment, and contrary to Mr. Thorkelson’s belief, you took the liberty of making the first move…and at the Christmas faculty party of all places!

The event was off school grounds at a venue in the city. The night was young, and it was freeing to see your coworkers let loose outside of the professional box that working as educators placed them in. 

Add in the fact there was an open bar and everyone was basically on cloud nine.

There were Secret Santa gifts and party games, and one of them was, of course, "Truth or Dare".

Salaries were exposed, shots were taken, relationships and teacher pregnancies were revealed…

But your new Library Assistant, with a suggestive amount of wine in their system, took the liberty of shooting Peter a truth question: "I saw you put a crane on (y/n)'s desk a week or so ago. Do you two have something going on?"

Your eyes shot up from the unopened Secret Santa gift you received just in time to witness Peter finish his old-fashioned, "With all the love and respect in the world, no. We do not."

Your co-workers gave lively reactions, and the game quickly moved ahead, but now the tension between you two became suddenly unavoidable.

Peter couldn't bring himself to look at you, let alone in your direction. He thought he messed up everything, by not saying something different. He felt like it set his relationship with you back by a long shot. How was he supposed to recover from that if he ever did find the balls to confess that he thought the world of you?

You, on the other hand, didn't think much of it….mostly. I mean, sure, you did like him….A LOT. But for the sake of professionalism, you figured that if it wasn't meant to be, then it wasn't meant to be.

The evening progressed and so did the party, but you figured you'd make your discreet leave and wave goodbye to a few close coworkers early. 

You saved Peter's goodbye for last and gave him a warm embrace like usual along with a warm message, "Don't worry, okay? We're good! I'll see you back at The Hills after the break. Merry Christmas, Peter."

And off you went…….to the venue's unsupervised walk-in coat closet to retrieve yours. It took you a bit of sliding around coats on hangers to track it down but you finally were able to get a hold of it.

When you opened the closet door to exit, Peter was on the other side holding your Secret Santa gift you left behind.

You kinda just stood there? Mouth open and in shock, but the good kind. You even backed up a little bit, hoping that he would walk in. 

And he did. Shutting the closet door behind him, Peter stepped forward, closing the gap as if he was just a short space away from you.

"You forgot this on the table and I didn't want you to leave without it." He smiled, handing the gift back to you as you handed your coat over for him to hold. 

Unraveling the silver and gold wrapping paper, you couldn't help but rest your forehead against the gift and laugh: a hardcover copy of "Origami: The Art of Paper Folding" by Robert Harbin.

You were tickled because you KNEW it was Peter, and he couldn't help but smile at your infectious laugh.

"What? What's so funny?", "No, it's just this is so adorable! Did you plan this? Did you pull strings to be my Secret Santa?", "I didn't, I promise that was coincidental. I just figured since I was making so many of these and leaving them with you, I'd give you something so you can make your own.", "But I like when you make them for me!"

Your eyes were filled with such sincerity, and you were HOPING…that it would be enough for him to TAKE A HINT…..

You didn't wait. You kissed Peter, but he immediately followed suit, cupping your face as he leaned into it. The book slipped out of your hand as Peter grabbed your waist, backing you two into the wall as the line of hung coats surrounded you both.

The kissing intensified, and Peter dropped your coat to the floor as he unbuttoned his cotton henley shirt, never taking his lips off yours. You lost all sense of time. The closet got smaller and warmer by the minute, and frankly, you were feeling more aroused than you ever had in your life. And he sensed that, but he also respected you much more than just minimizing what you two share to a quick fuck in a stuffy coat closet at the faculty Christmas party. 

So in the midst of you reaching to undo his belt buckle, he stopped you, fixed you both back up, retrieved his corduroy jacket, and kissed your forehead.

Gathering your things, you both left the party together, unnoticed, and hand in hand. 

You two finished the evening by watching artists perform at a venue you randomly stumbled upon. 

❣Dating Life❣

You and Peter becoming official made everything that you were already platonically doing regularly, feel a lot more special.

You still bother each other on school grounds, but now you enjoy one another off of school grounds as well! (In more ways than one)

Movie theaters, plays, concerts, farmers markets, and bookstores on the weekends. And you have sleepovers at either of your apartments.

You always love his place. It always feels cozy and nostalgic because of some things he has around from his days as a television star. 

He'll lay his head in your lap in his living room conversation pit and share stories from the set, and you enjoy every moment of it. He plays his guitar or piano and you'll listen or sing along.

But you're convinced he loves your place more. He adores just how much "the essence of your apartment matches your personality" or whatever that means. 

You'll admit, you have a lot of scholastic things lying around that gives away your identity as an educator, but your apartment holds much more than that! 

He loves your collection of autobiographies, novels, and poetry books of Black authors, and finds joy in having you read passages written by esteemed artists of the Harlem Renaissance to him as he listens intently.

You'll cook together and sit on your couch watching sitcoms, music, and game shows.

And he was SO determined in helping you out whenever you have a wash day, so you walked him through how you detangle your hair and he's been a specialist ever since😌

He will make up any and every excuse possible to hold you and just be in your space. 

He loves when you just lay together in silence, preferably with the window open so you can hear the sounds of the outside world and everything happening around you both while you're in your little sacred space. 

That's happened quite a few times on Sunday nights, which rolled over into Monday mornings…which resulted in carpools to work where you'd have to act like you two didn't just arrive together from the same place.

You were almost late quite a few times on those types of mornings, it's like Peter wouldn't let you shower and get dressed in peace without messing up your outfit due to his..............antics…..

Oh, he wasn't a saint. You've heard rumors of the parties he'd host at his old Hollywood home, but you didn't think he was THIS mischievous…

When it came to sex, you were far from innocent. But Peter brought out this adventurous side of you as far as stepping out of your comfort zone goes.

You went three rounds in the back of a van at a music festival high off Mary-Jane once because you kept giving him praise and it drove him insane.

Sure, the bedroom, shower, kitchen, and balcony were nice…..but the library back room, teacher's lounge, janitor's closet, his classroom, and school parking lot in his backseat were mind-numbing. There was also your childhood bedroom when you went back to visit once…It was an otherworldly experience. 

And he's such a giver! His definition of helping you de-stress is going down on you while you vent about what happened during the day and how it made you feel (and how he's making you feel). 

He LIVES for seeing you come undone and lose yourself in pleasure, it's a challenge to him almost.

You're careful with how blissed-out you look after he makes you finish because HE WILL immediately go again.

And that's basically Peter's whole thing, he lives to please and enjoys helping in any possible way he can

Like that one time you and your library assistant were supposed to go over to the primary school to read books to the little kids and sing songs while you played your guitar , but the assistant got sick so Peter gladly snatched up his guitar as well and went along as your Stories and Songs accomplice

[End of Writing]

I started writing this in May but I just had so much going on during the summer that I would have to keep pausing my writing and just add on when inspo hit. This is basically the entire headcannon I guess, but I just didn't know how to close this one out and I didn't wanna just abruptly stop, ya know? BUT my classes are starting back soon....and with that comes the random and unexpected spurts of writing inspiration so I'm hoping for the best😅

[crawlspacefics]

WIP - That Night Beneath the Moon

(Sequel to "A Bit of Mischief")

Chapter 1

Setsuna followed the young scientist through the halls of the research building.  He chatted animatedly, mentioning again how impressive her resume looked for a first year graduate student.  She caught a glimpse of herself in a large, shaded window and unconsciously adjusted her crisp white lab coat even though it already hung perfectly straight over her blouse and skirt.  They came to the end of a hallway, and her new boss punched his keycard into a reader before holding the door open for her with a flourish.

Three months ago, she wouldn’t have guessed this was the door she’d be passing through today.

In the first few days after dealing with the mischievous Venusian goddess, she and Kaya had just had fun.  It was a long weekend for frivolous things and a little bit of time for themselves.  In spite of that sentiment, Pluto had woken each morning with a tense caution, waiting for the Goddess’ whispered reminder of her duty and place to become the command to return to The Gate.

Yet that command never came. 

Their long weekend stretched into the next week as Kaya’s classes resumed.  At first, Kaya would rush home every afternoon, hesitancy in the way she opened the door followed by visible relief that the apartment wasn’t empty.  Setsuna’s promise not to leave without saying goodbye did less to reassure Kaya than the simple passage of time did.

Another week passed, then another.  A daily routine set in - Kaya became less cautious of spending more time at the library or working on a lab project, Setsuna began acquainting herself with the astronomy lab in an attempt to keep an eye on her greater mission.  Setsuna cooked, though she couldn't completely break Kaya of her take out and convenience store chicken boxes.  Thursday nights at nine were set aside for reruns of Detective Zima and every morning started with tea on the balcony. 

Setsuna had even gotten herself a new name - Meiou.  She and Kaya had tossed around a few ideas, and Setsuna had chosen this one because it was the closest modern equivalent to her family title.

So now here she was.  First year graduate student Meiou Setsuna being enthusiastically introduced to the research group she hoped would give her access to the equipment and data she needed to begin finding her team and tracking the force she was destined to destroy.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Kaya rolled her shoulders and shifted in her library chair.  Ideas for what she wanted to do for dinner tonight for Setsuna’s first day of work were superimposed over her books and a journal article on cardiac ultrasonography she was digging way too deeply into.

She was so caught up in it all she didn’t hear Suoh coming up behind her.  He dropped the stack of books he was carrying on the table beside her, making her jump.

“Ten minutes, Kaya,” he said, a combination of bored and weary.

Kaya smirked.  “Nice try, Suoh, but I know you’re open until eight tonight.”

Suoh held out his wrist and tapped his watch.

Gray eyes went wide in horror.  “No, no, no,” muttered Kaya as she hastily started shoving her belongings into her backpack.  “Not tonight.”  Then she looked at all the extra books and journals strewn out on the library table.

“Oh, no,” said Suoh.  He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.  “I am not cleaning up your mess so you can go screw around with your smoochie smooch smooch.”

“Come on,” pleaded Kaya even as she was backing away from him and the messy table.  “What’s the difference between this and the return cart?  We’ll call it a favor.”

Suoh signed dramatically.  “Fine.”

“Thanks, Suoh,” she smiled as she started moving quickly to the exit.  "I owe you one."

“Yes, you do!” he called after her.  “And I want to know how you get yourself out of this one!”

[ahsteria]

can we read the murder lesbians short story

!!!!! YES omg its under the cut <33 a little over 1k words and is one of my first attempts at creative writing would love if anyone read or gave feedback soooo much okk here it is

"define, desire":

To the outsider, Anna’s attention is failing. She sits alone at one of the library’s hexagonal tables, has turned the page maybe once in the past hour. What the outsider doesn’t understand, is that Anna's attention is an arrow with a string, sharp and resolute point embedded in its mark. It’s not her fault, really, how can she be expected to focus on East of Eden when God’s favorite angel is typing in her peripheral. Mari is wearing thin, silver framed glasses today, enlarging her already lamb-like eyes.  

Five months ago Anna’s mother passed, leaving her the pale yellow-painted estate and an ever-unsatisfied well wedged deep in her stomach, unrelenting thing. September was rain waving hello, through windows on slow train rides from Anna’s Brooklyn apartment to the quiet and innocuous woods of Seneca Falls. Her intention was never to stay, this was promptly ruined on a notably gray September Sunday: Anna subjected to tediously returning her late mother’s stack of overdue romance novels. Upon first glance, she mistook Mari for actual, inhuman art. It’s nice that the library is investing in the fine arts, she thought. Oh, oh but then the beauty blinked itself alive, flesh and blood, Pygmalion and Galatea. Silver-blonde hair ending at the dip of visible hip bones, her front strands framing those fucking doe eyes. When reading The Argonautica, she thought Jason's men stupid for being unable to resist the sirens’ call. She sympathizes with them now. Mari is desire personified, something sicker than yearning. Flesh and blood cannot look like that. Anna moved to Seneca Falls the following week.

Anna is not insane. She and Mari are friends. It began with books (Anna often watches Mari’s desk then purchases her current read from the local bookstore). Sometimes they’ll discuss art (Anna’s favorite pieces may, on common occasions, feature fair maidens with notably defined anatomy). Recently, they’ve been frequenting local events (she’s canceled three appointments now to attend said events with Mari). The two of them, in fact, went to the loveliest gallery opening last month and shared a slice of blackberry lemon-crème cake. Mari fed Anna a bite with her fork: a doubly bittersweet, indirect kiss. Mari mentioned a craving for it two days ago, red lips in a distracting, horrifying pout. So Anna, in a normal, nonchalant way, called the gallery with the intent of purchasing an entire cake. Tragically, she failed to locate the baker. The gallery was lucky enough however, to have a copy for allergy concerns, which was faxed over. Mari gifted her a kiss on the cheek for it yesterday: a bullet to rational thinking. And so, here is Anna, thinking about warm lips and delicate wrists and flushed skin as Steinbeck’s open pages collect dust. 

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

Mari has never been more beautiful than in Anna’s late-mother’s kitchen. It’s not the kitchen really, with its outdated black and white tiled backsplash, nor even the setting sun’s orange light placing a halo atop her head. It’s Mari suggesting they bake the cake together, Anna’s kitchen is bigger anyway, it’ll be nice, she had said. Suggested so casually, as if not filling Anna’s mind with sickly craving, sugarcoated daydreams.

The cake is cooling now, on the silver rack beside the knife block. They’re making frosting. It’s difficult for Anna to pay much care to anything besides the smear of buttercream on Mari’s forearm. She thinks of placing her mouth on it, saccharine skin. Mari smiles, full face, and it's then Anna realizes she’s been talking. 

“Sorry—missed that,” Anna says.

“Oh I just said the photo on your fridge, it’s nice,” Mari replies.

Mari is referring to a photo of her mother—loose brown curls and stress lines around the eyes, her smile is strained only slightly, it’s almost indiscernible. Anna is seated next to her, same strained smile but significantly less disguised. 

“Oh, thanks. That’s my mom, we took it over there.” Anna nods towards the blue velvet couch in the living room where they had then posed for the hired photographer. 

“Cute. You look like her.” Mari says. 

Soon the conversation moves to the new Margaret Atwood they’re both ‘coincidentally’ reading. The butter churns, loud and repetitive, like a third voice interrupting the discussion. Mari snacks on spare blackberries as they wait, her hands match Persephone’s, all stained red. 

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

It’s horrific, two toppling layers, collapsing under the weight of undoubtedly too much lemon buttercream; blackberries lazily clinging to swirled dollops. There’s a sheen to it, moonlight on the melting fat of the frosting. 

“It’s beautiful,” Anna quips. Mari laughs, taking a knife out of the block, eager to taste.

“It’s a scale model of the fucking leaning tower of pizza—” Mari says.

“You’re beautiful.” Anna interrupts, unable to help herself. Oh, she’s ruined it now. This was supposed to be a quiet, careful seduction—waves ebbing at rocks so slowly that the rock never realizes when exactly, it goes under. A sea stack.  

Mari’s eyes go big and pleased. She smiles, impossibly, wider.

Oh fuck, oh, oh fuck, Anna thinks. Does she know? Shit. Anna is sick, sick with want, poisoned by something carnal and consuming.

“You’re lovely,” Mari says, as if it’s simple.

She’s close, now, the warmth of her skin corporeal. The red nail polish of Mari’s fingers meets the cotton of Anna’s shirt. Anna gently claps her wrist, takes the knife out of her hand, a tentative touch. The whole thing is lovely really: the delicate press of bone against skin, Mari’s breath, soft against hers, and Anna’s knife, deep in Mari’s guts.

Desire: “to strongly wish for or want (something),” this “something” is undefined. Romance perhaps, sex, money, love, or, in Anna’s case, violence, flavored with sacrilege. When Anna first realized that Mari was not in fact, sterile art,  she was overcome with desire to kill something that is holy and also alive.  Mari is screaming, an angel’s chorus. Prey eyes thick with tears, the confusion of a calf raised by a butcher. Her blood is blackberry juice against buttercream, pouring out from the mouth, catching on the veins of her throat, pooling in her clavicle, then trickling back into the original wound in the stomach. Collapsing, strings cut, she fades into a beautiful lifelessness, ars longa vita brevis. Unrelenting hunger satisfied, Mari lies on the floor— Millais’ Ophelia. Anna is ecstatic, a bit in awe. She thinks herself a sort of artist, the corpse on the floor her undying masterpiece. High on ultimate hedonism, Anna notices blood splattered on the cake. She takes the frosting on her finger, metallic, sour, and too-sweet, it’s quite good. A shame, Anna thinks, that she never got to try a slice. 

[inphosu]

Part 3: Kyl

Haze has been visiting the old and decrepit library frequently nowadays. Before, she started reading a lot of books from the children’s section. Now, she’s been reading books from the shelves that were further up. These shelves had books that were much more sophisticated like The Towers of Giza, Minatura’s Textiles and Reedhoven’s Bibliography. They were written in languages far more complex than children’s stories yet Haze was able to grasp them.

Whenever Haze got herself a book, she would curl up on her chair next to the counter. She could go on for hours reading a book nonstop, and that’s when the old man knows she found a good book. The old man would always offer her hot chocolate every now and then. He also had to remind her that the drink would get cold if she get too invested in her readings.

Cling~

The library’s door opened and a young loud man entered the building.

“Hello! I’m glad this library is still going strong,” He joked.

“Nice to see you, Kyl. How’s the pharmacy going?”

“It’s been doing great! I’m here to find a book about paralysis antidotes. I hope I could find it here since this library keeps a lot of rare books.”

“Paralysis, huh? Hey, Haze, help him find what he needs,”

“…”

“Haze!”

She jumped, almost dropping the heavy book on her face.

“What? I’m reading!”

“Go help this young man.”

“Fine..”

She slid her bookmark and placed the book on the seat.

“So, what’d you need?”

“Oh, I’m looking for a medical book about making paralysis antidotes.”

Medical books, paralysis, antidotes. They should be in the medical section. She thought to herself. She led Kyl to the fourth shelf on the right, near the entrance of the library.

Personal rendition of the library's layout.

“I think you can find the book here. I’ll help you search for it too. Paramis antidotes, right?” Haze flubbed.

“It’s paralysis. But sure, thanks!”

They spent hours in searching the book on this shelf, from top to bottom, left to right. They even rummaged through the stack of books on the sides and on top of the shelves. Since Kyl was afraid of heights, Haze went up instead.

“Hmm, I don’t think this library has it,” Kyle sighed, heartbreakingly.

Haze never thought that not having to find a book would be upsetting since she only ever has the books in this library for her own. Feeling bad for Kyl, she wanted to find this book no matter what.

“Say, Kyl, how does someone get pasylis?” Haze asked to investigate further.

“It’s paralysis. Usually, someone would put spells on the victim or make them drink paralysis potions. Then, they wouldn’t be able to move because of it,”

She fell deep into her thoughts, thinking about what kind of book this is or where other places can she search for. If this was a medical book, surely we would find it in this section. Or are we searching at the wrong place? She thought to herself.

“Just a sec, I’ll go look somewhere else,”

Haze hurriedly went to another shelf. This shelf was marked “Magic and Voodoo”. It didn’t take long until Haze found a book that was titled, “Paralysis: Spell and Cures”.

Paralysis: Spell and Cures (Photo by Natalia Yakovleva on Unsplash)

“So, did you find it?” The old man asked.

“Yes! She did find it. We’ve been searching for it in the wrong place! Your apprentice really knows the library from the ground up,” Kyle complimented. The old man had the smuggest face Haze had ever seen.

“Wha- Me? An apprentice? Who told you I wanted to work under you?” Haze spouted.

“You looked like you had fun here,” The old man said softly.

Haze didn’t deny it at all. It felt like she was living her life to the fullest here. It was surprising that a few months ago, she was a dirty thief, stealing coin pouches from the market. Now, she found herself living in this rugged building full of knowledge and stories.

They both said their farewells to Kyl as he left the library.

“So, are you staying or not?”

Haze smiled, “Of course! Someone needs to help your old bum to run this place.”

[lovemewednesdays]

a first: i'm annoyed that i bought a book.

God, now that I write this, I'm afraid I sound like a Karen.

Okay, so. I'm in a book club with some fellow playwrights. It's not the first book club I've been invited to, but it's the first I actively participated in. That's not important. ANYWAY.

We meet every month. When I got December's pick (Jean Toomer's Cane, if anyone's curious) a few weeks ago, I immediately put in for a hold at my library.

The book was at another branch, and I thought to myself, that's fine, I'll wait for a book transfer (or whatever it's called). And I did wait, and I waited. And I would go check the website every couple of days, and it would still say "pending." Finally, last week, I put on my big girl pants, and I called and talked to a very nice lady, and she told me that the book hadn't even been pulled yet. I said, "Okay, fine. I'll wait some more."

(But I was also confused because how long does it usually take to pull a book? This is a genuine question; I'm not trying to be snotty. I think librarians are doing the Lord's work and society needs them and public institutions.)

But tonight, I was crushed with anxiety that if I didn't get the book soon, I wasn't going to have enough time to read it for the book club, and I went to Thriftbooks and bought it.

I'm annoyed – with myself mostly, not at the library system – because I'm on a very limited income (thanks, US government!) and have a teeny tiny (read: not teeny tiny) issue with money anxiety. And with the holidays coming up...ugh. It's just getting worse.

PLUS. I own way too many books. No, I'm serious. I don't have any shelf room left, and my various TBR stacks that surround me also give me anxiety, so I'm just an anxious blob right now. A poor, anxious blob.

I don't know what this is, but writing it out helped.

[rommahh]

16 from the situation 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Thanks for the request bestie, I <3 u!

Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing 

HSLOT!harry

Harry has been packing all day. His first solo tour starts tomorrow and he wouldn’t be coming home until his first break which isn’t for a few months. You were sad. You watched pitifully from the bed as he trampled around the room looking for different articles of clothing.

“Do you have to go?” You question with sad eyes. Harry tried not to look at your because he knew if he did he would succumb to the sadness he was feeling.

“Yeah, I do, but I’ll be back before you know it.”

You would go with Harry on tour but with all you have going on in your life, it just wasn’t feasible.

You slide from your place on the bed to sit next to Harry on the floor as he folded a few t shirts in his suitcase. You grab the shirt from his hand placing it down. He looks over to you confused but that confusion disappears the moment you press your lips to his.

That kiss was gentle as you two melted into each other. Harry had long forgotten his task at hand but he didn’t mind.

Gangrry

You could sense his anger before he walked into the bed room. You were sat on the king sized, a sheer nightie adorned your body. This is how most evenings went. Harry would come home mad and you would appease him with gentle words and kisses.

His heavy footstep could be heard before the door to the room was slammed open. You looked up from your book, glasses perched low on your nose.

"Hi hon." You greet him. He huffs a hello, removing his cufflinks and suit jackets. "Wasn't a very nice way to greet your wife?"

He rolls his shoulders back, tie coming off next. "You're right, im sorry. Had a bad day."

Your bare feet pad across these shiny wood floors as you walked in front of your husband. His eyes roamed your body loving the way that your nightie hugged you in all the right places.

"Tell me about your day my love." You prompted. The knot in his tie came undone between your nimble fingers.

"Im pissed off. Had a shipment get lost in transit and none of the jack ass that work for me can track it down. I swear I work with teenage boys who have never learned an ounce of responsibility. And to top it off, fucking Myers contacted me today threatening me. Fucking hilarious if you ask me, as if I won't shower that warehouse with blood-"

You cut off his rant by place a kiss on his lips. His mouth was open mid talk which made it easy for you to slide your tongue into his mouth. He hummed in appreciation, moving his tongue with yours. His hands gripped your hips tight before moving down and below you nightie to rest on your bare bum. You pulled away but not before placing a wet kiss on his nose.

"If you wanted to shut me up, you could've said so."

Professorry

Finals week sucked. As a graduate student who was about to graduate with a masters degree, finals week felt like hell. You were In the process of writing your dissertation which felt like you were in the process of writing a New York Times best seller.

You were completely overwhelmed with its paper. It was consuming you mentally and physically. Harry could recognize how much it was consuming you, he understood how hard it could be. He also hated this time of the year because he had to sit through hundreds of presentations and dissertation ceremonies.

He sat across from you at the dining table in your shared kitchen grading a stack of papers. On your side of the table is where you sat with your laptop and a large pile of books from the library. This is how evenings in your household looked like. Dinner would be eaten and the work would come soon after.

A small sniffle made Harry look up from his work. Your brows were furrowed and a hand was rubbing furiously at your eye. You were at a breaking point.

"Hey, hey, hey." He quickly made his way onto his knees beside your chair. Your sniffles turned into sobs.

"Im tired and I want to be done with this shit." You whine. Your distress hit Harry deep in his stomach, the connection that you two shared running deep.

He turned your chair around to face him, his hands finding their place on your lap. He leans up and places a gentle kiss on your cheek, then your forehead, then to the other cheek, and lastly to you lips. The kiss was nothing more than a soft kiss, nothing sexual about it. It was a way of Harry calming you down. It was his way of grounding you back to earth when your head felt like it was millions of miles into space.

You reluctantly pull away. "I needed that."

"I know."

[l0vergirlwrites]

when life was beginning, i saw you ; peter parker

warnings: fluff... just pure fluff with our best boy

this is inspired by the instrumental "when life was beginning, I saw you" from cherry 🍒

stepping out of high school & heading to university was a big change. it was hard, having to start from the bottom & work your way up until you finally get to have a degree & get a job... only to do the same thing but in a slightly different way.

peter loved campus life, having more independance & all the extra credit he was earning from some of his classes. he was now a junior in university, studying the art of medical science. he had a passion for it & hoped to integrate it with his technology skills.

besides attending his classes & studying for tests or working on assignments, peter had a job so he could make some money & not live off his loans or grants while on campus. he worked at his school's library in his free time instead of catching up on much-needed sleep.

he would stack up the bookshelves, rearrange the books that weren't in proper order, help out at the front desk & sometimes do some light reading while on the job. it was boring, but it paid decent money & he kind of liked getting the chance to be out of the stuffy dorm room that he shared with an annoying guy named carl.

carl just gets on his nerves & since peter had developed a short fuse—a very short fuse, the two only bickered & roll their eyes at one another, despite peter trying to be nice. carl was also a political science major & had very different views on issues than peter, which made it even harder to live with him. so the library was an escape for him to be in some peace.

peter was the only one who worked at the library other than his boss, ms. welling. she was an odd lady, but she loved old film & television, especially star wars, so she got along with peter quite well. it wasn't the dream, but it made him cross paths with you.

he was working late, around eight-thirty at night when the front door opened. the library was quiet & ms. welling had already left for the day, so it was just peter at the front desk. he didn't notice at first who came in because his earbuds were blasting music too loud & he was caught up in reading "to kill a mockingbird" by harper lee.

it wasn't until he heard a loud smack emit from the stone flooring that he quickly took his ear buds out, flinching as he did so. when he looked up with confused eyes, he didn't expect to see you picking a hardcover book from the ground & heading over to him at the counter with a playful smirk.

peter just couldn't help to think how pretty you were, really pretty. the way your hair suited your dark features, how your coat had intricate patterns that he wasn't accustomed to seeing much, how your smile was gorgeous & how your eyes were the perfect shade of y/e/c-- he was in total awe of you.

"you seemed really into the book & i couldn't get your attention, so that's why i... did that. called your name like ten times" you explained, making him let out a nervous chuckle.

fuck, he liked your voice too.

"s-sorry about that" he apologized, fixing his posture in the wheely- chair he sat in & turned on the computer in front of him.

"so uh, what can i help you with?" he asked you, making you slide the book you had brought with you across the counter.

"a return" 

with a nod, he went to scan the book code on the back & the computer showed that the book was six months late & the charge for the lateness would be ten dollars. he also saw your name linked to the date you had signed it out.

"so... y/n, you were pretty late with the return... about six months to be exact" peter said, making you sigh.

"wait, how do you know my name?" you questioned, making peter's heart drop.

"i-it says your name on the computer, i should've asked though in case—"

"don't sweat it, it's cool" you assured him, helping his nerves a bit.

"anyways, i may have forgotten that i had it until about, thirty minutes ago" you said with a chuckle, making peter look back at the computer screen with a light laugh.

"there's a ten-dollar fee for the late return though," he said, making you gasp at his words.

"you gotta be kidding right? ten bucks?" you asked him, to which he nodded his head sadly.

you went to grab your wallet out of your purse but peter quickly stopped you. halting your movements, you looked at him skeptically before he spoke.

"we could make a bargain? i could lower the charge to two dollars if you need the extra money. i won't tell my boss" he suggested to you, making you light up.

"thank you! your a life saver! what can i do for you in return?" you asked as you pulled out two dollars worth of coins.

he paused for a minute, wondering what he could do to possibly get to see you again & an idea popped in his head.

"you could come around here again sometime & i could give you some good book recommendations, o-only if you want" he said, realizing it sounded a bit nerdy & weird which made him mentally smack himself in the head.

you smirked at him once more, secretly catching on to what he was playing at.

"i-i know it's not much but—"

"i'm not completely against your offer & it's better than paying full price for the stupid book fee... so sure" you agreed.

peter quickly smiled at you & you returned it while you handed him the money so he could put it in the register. turning back to you, he saw that your eyes were trained on the book he was reading just as you had come in.

"there was a sequel to that you know? well actually, more like an original but it want released until after. it was the first draft of the book harper lee had written" you said to him, taking him slightly by surprise.

"o-oh. i didn't know. what's the other one called?" he questioned in curiousity.

"go set a watch-man. it's not as good as this one though, it's okay but like... kinda disappointing" you explained to him.

"well i guess i won't have to read it after i finish this"

"you still should. & you need to watch the movie" you added.

"there's a movie?"

"you need to know more backstory to what your reading..." you paused, remembering that you didn't know his name.

"oh! i'm peter. sorry i didn't tell you earlier" he said a bit quickly, a tiny bit embarrassed.

"it's alright.... peter... huh, it does suits you" you said while eyeing him up & down.

"well um, i have to lock up soon. so—"

"oh yeah right sorry—" you said flustered.

"no no, it's fine it's just—"

"i get it. i'll come by again soon" you told him, stepping away from the counter & slowly heading towards the door.

"bye y/n" he said looking at you, feeling completely entranced by your everything.

"bye peter" you said before giving him a small smile, walking out through the doors & heading to wherever you were going.

peter smiled to himself while looking down at his desk, feeling his cheeks blush & warm a bit. he couldn't shake off the smile he had when he started to pack up & head for his dorm to catch up on some homework from his drama class. he felt like a teenager again, even though he wasn't that old, he was only twenty.

turning the lights off & locking the doors, he almost walked away but he noticed a blue sticky note on the glass of the window of the doors, making himself stop in his tracks. 

here's my number if you wanna talk before i come by next. i wanna know your progress on the books & movie.

111-111-1111

peter held the note in his fingers for a few moments, smiling more at the words & the messy pen writing. he folded it neatly & put it in his coat pocket as he headed to his car. he felt something odd when he looked at you, he had no idea how to describe the feeling that he felt throughout his body. all he knew is that you seemed different, a good type of different.

maybe after all this time of trying to find a new adventure to make life more interesting, you'd be his new adventure.

i miss when peter parker was happy

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

I blame you sunshine anon for this sin I'm committing.

Armin having a crush on you while you're with Eren hc

{ Armin x reader, implied Eren x reader | tw:possessive tw:unhealthy-friendships, tw:lowkey-toxic tw:jealousy | pinning, angst, drama, thirst | modern }

{ "The pool by the garden gate" by Thomas Edwin Mostyn 1864-1930 }

You met outside the library, he's was looking forward to relaxing after a long day with his new stack of books he just checked out, too lost in his own daydreams that he didn't see where he was going when bumping into you.

Quick to apologise, he helped you up. Instead of getting mad you chuckled at his clumsiness after he explained what caused him to not pay attention, and for some reason the sound of your laughter made his heart just beat a bit faster.

Summoning all the courage he's been building up, he invited you to the nearby cafe, his treat.

Armin doesn't do well with strangers nor small talk but by whatever miracle, talking to you at that cafe didn't feel uncomfortable at all. Listening to you talk about the weather while sipping on his strawberry milkshake was actually quiet nice, your voice was quiet nice.

He thought you were quiet nice and lovely.

The two of you ended up exchanging numbers after that, he went home that day with a little more bounce to his steps and a little more curl to his smile.

You ended up texting all night. And by the end of the week, you've managed to keep a streak of daily texts and calls despite your busy schedule. He listened to every voice message, he reread every sweet text, he admired every picture you sent.

And by the second week, the two of you agreed to meet again. So he took you to the nearby beach, you had a nice walk, collected some really pretty seashells and shared an ice cream and he was enjoying every second of it.

By the third week, you called him at 3am for a really important reason. He listened to you despite how tempting sleep was, he was understanding and compassionate, he managed to relate to your worries and calm them at the same time.

Despite it being around 5am when the call ended, he found himself not really minding it or even bothered by it, because it was you.

And by the end of the month, when the two of you drove to a farm to pick up fruits together, he realised how deeply in love with you he has fallen.

You couldn't look more perfect under the sun with a basket full of strawberries if you tried. You looked like an angel in his mind.

He was in love, and every thing you did together just made him fall more and more for you.

You went on walks together, he got you into playing chess and you introduced him to your hobbies.

Hanging out with him was the most comfortable, you'd listen to music while each of you did their own thing. Maybe even watch a murder mystery movie or two after and trying to guess who the killer is together.

Day by day it only got better, it was going good..no scratch that, it was going great actually. He's never felt so in rhythm with someone before, so comfortable to be his true self while still trusting you wouldn't judge him.

So he decided to push things to the next level, he wanted you in his life and to tell you how he felt. It's been three months since you've met and so far you've showed nothing but green flags.

That's when he decided to confess, but before that he had to introduce you to his friends, the most people he cares about in one room! What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, apparently.

More specifically, introducing you to Eren, the biggest mistake of his life.

Because instead of the usual teasing Armin would get for being late to his friend's house or texting them less frequently, It was Eren getting the teasing.

The only difference is, Eren had no shame, he didn't feel a need to justify himself for hogging all your time, for ditching the plans he makes with Mikasa and Armin just because you called.

If anything Eren had all the audacity to pull you to sit beside him whenever they hang in a group, or to just casually wrap his hand around your shoulder, even interrupting your conversations with Armin just so he can tell a joke to make you laugh.

And that turned into Eren being the one driving you back home despite Armin bringing you here.

Somehow and for whatever reason, Eren seemed to latch on to you. Taking you to movies, late night drives with him, even introducing you to his mom.

Armin likes to think the best of his friends, and Eren is his childhood friend, even his first ever friend. So you can't blame him for hoping Eren would read between the lines and take a fucking hint.

Eren had to know, he had to. But he's a good friend, he wouldn't steal someone Armin made it clear he's interested in right.

....right?

1am, Armin has been sitting up in bed for a while, he can't sleep. The project he's been working on is doesn't want to work out right and Armin is slowly losing patience with the deadline creeping over.

He doesn't even realise how long he's been lost over-thinking in his head till the laptop's screen turns black and goes into sleep mode, he stares at his tired reflection.

He feels lost and stuck at the same time, he closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind.

You pop into his mind, he glances at the phone for a good minute before dialling your number.

It rings, and rings, he's getting anxious.

It's alright, he tells himself, this isn't the first time he called you late at night, you actually called him at really late times too so what is he stressing about.

Why is there a feeling of dread in his chest.

The ringing stops, you pick up and for a second he seems to light up a bit.

except it wasn't you who picked up the phone.

It was Eren, answering him from your phone, sounding like he just woke up.

At 1am.

And it was Eren walking around with hickies on his neck the next day.

Armin felt emotions he never thought he'd ever feel towards his best friend when he got out of the shower that day, marks and hickies littering his skin.

Very, very ugly emotions.

Mikasa asks what is Eren getting ready for when he begins dressing up fancier than usual. "Date with y/n" was all he said before leaving

Armin still swears Eren looked at him with a knowing look just before he left.

He tried to reason with himself that it probably wouldn't last long, Eren is either messing with him intentionally or it's just a fling that's taking too long right?

...right?

It's been 6 fucking months, Armin has been counting.

And you're still with Eren, and he's still just as clingy and possessive as when you first met. Apparently the honeymoon phase wasn't a phase because he still insists you only sit near him, he still acts like you're the only two in the room with little regard to what's socially appropriate.

Armin internally cringes whenever Eren wraps his arm around your waist, or puts his hand on your thigh.

His stomach turns whenever Eren whispers something in your ear, his fingers dig in his palm whenever you look away flustered and slighly red after that.

He's not jealous, he tells himself while scrolling through the third picture Eren posted of you on his story, you're laying on his bed, his head on your thighs as he looks at the camera with smug eyes.

Armin almost cracks his phone screen.

"It was supposed to be me" he thinks each time Eren pulls you for a kiss simply because he felt like it.

It was supposed to be him surprising you with a gift on valentine's day, it was supposed to be him kissing your neck after getting a little too drunk, and now it's Eren doing it instead.

It was supposed to be him...it was never supposed to be Eren, it's not fair, he knew you first.

It was supposed to be beach trips and funfair dates, it was supposed to be reading books together and watching mystery movies, just you and Armin.

Not fucking Eren.

why, why would this happen to him? He was going to confess to you, he even prepared a letter and date plans and everything.

It's not fair how much it hurts, how much he misses you.

He knew you first, he wanted you and goddammit he still does even with you dating his bestfriend, he still wants you with every part of his body and mind.

And it eats him up at night, the guilt and bad thoughts of knowing just how wrong it is to wish Eren and you would just break up already, to wish he could just swoop in and take you from his arms.

It's a constant cycle of feeling high on love, feeling anger and then feeling the crushing guilt.