#the library had the e-copy and I needed something

[big-edies-sun-hat]

Listening to one of the new Discworld audiobooks, this one read by Colin Morgan. It’s a fun listen but kind of much. He’s reading Interesting Times and giving almost every character an exaggerated voice, creating the impression that every character except Lord Hong and Lord Vetinari is played by a Muppet.

[missmonsters2]

Mirror, Mirror | One

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: The thought of something more had never really crossed Wanda's mind when it came to you. Best friends for 10 years and there hasn't even been one instance of accidental sexual tension. You're her best friend, that's all—until someone points out that you obviously have a very specific type when it comes to dating.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: i'm back!!! Nothing like coming back and posting a mini series. Enjoy this superior trope. Updates will be on Tuesdays! As you can see, we're trying something new with explicit content lol 😬

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4.1k

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It's strange how sometimes a single sentence can change someone's entire life. 

Wanda's thought about what sentences could change her life—usually, they're morbid and depressing.

'You have cancer.'

'Someone you love has died horrifically in an accident.'

'Your cat actually finds living with you miserable and would prefer the dangers of living in the streets.'

Never in a million years would Wanda ever think it'd be, 'Hey, have you ever noticed how your best friend exclusively only dates girls who look like you?'

And don't get Wanda wrong. It wasn't a morbid or depressing change; it was just...a change. An irrevocable change because now, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about it or noticing it. 

This was all Steve's fault. 

Because if someone like Stupid Steve could notice something like that, it had to mean something, right? But as Wanda remembers about the past girls you've hooked up with and brought around, she doesn't know what to make of it.

A part of Wanda wishes she had never talked to Steve that night at the bar. 

"Where's Vis?" Steve asked, looking around.

"With Tony playing pool, I think," Wanda shrugged. She doesn't particularly keep track of where her on-and-off boyfriend goes. She thinks they might be on an off-period right now, anyway. 

"And where's—oh, nevermind, there she is," Steve started to say but cut off when they both saw you across the bar talking with the bartender, flirting over drinks—which were probably free if Wanda could guess. 

Wanda's slightly annoyed because it's been a long week without seeing you, and Wanda's been used to seeing you almost every day for the past several years of her life. But you've been gone on a work trip this week for a wedding shoot and only came home just a little after lunch and needed an immediate long nap before tonight's get-together. 

That meant Wanda was sorely missing out on best-friend time, and now you were off flirting shamelessly with the hot bartender. Wanda's rooting for you, make no mistake. The bartender is definitely easy on the eyes, luscious hair, and lips—something Wanda knows you're weak for. 

Plus, Wanda's worried you're not anywhere near getting close to settling down. She wants you to be in a happy, fulfilling relationship. But she supposes she's in no position to talk herself. 

Wanda loves Vision without a doubt, but their relationship is definitely chaotic, and Vision keeps pushing for something more serious now that they've been dating (sporadically) for a long time. She's been considering it in her downtime and thinks it might make sense as the next step.

Best friends do everything together, right? So, maybe if Wanda decided to take the next step in a serious relationship, you'd find someone to commit to seriously as well. 

Then, both of you could get married at the same time. Then, they could buy a house in the same neighborhood right next to each other. There'd be endless double dates and vacations together. Wanda wouldn't have to miss you.

But first, Wanda needed to regain lost best-friend time, one-on-one style.  

"Hey, you know what I just noticed?" Steve said, breaking Wanda's drifting thoughts. 

"What?"

"Bug—" 

Wanda makes a face at your nickname. Granted, it was Wanda's fault you ended up with it back in your first year of university. You never let her forget it, especially now that you're a professional photographer.

"—over there has a very specific type she goes after for girls," Steve mused, sipping his whiskey before continuing. "I mean, they always have green eyes and brunette—wait, that's not true. She had two red-headed girlfriends in our last year of university. They still had green eyes, though." 

"Oh," Wanda said, unsure what to say since she's never paid attention to the girls you were dating. On average, they were a brief fling, and only a few lasted longer than half a year. "I guess so?"

Wanda distantly thinks about how she dyed her hair auburn in her last year of university because she was looking for a change that year and Natasha was insistent that she'd look amazing. Wanda recalls you were a fan of the look.

"Yeah," Steve nodded along. "Ironically, they always look like you in some way. Check out that bartender now—long, wavy-haired brunette with green eyes. She's got thick, long lips and even does that dark eye-shadow makeup thingy like you."

Steve just laughed it off, finishing his drink, thinking nothing more of it before he started talking about Bucky.

But it was like something clicked into place in Wanda's brain. A daunting realization that she was wholly unprepared for and not equipped to do anything about. 

Wanda watched as the bartender clocked off for the night and dragged you into a corner booth, drinks in hand. It gave Wanda the perfect view that the bartender wore many rings just like she did. 

In the poor privacy of the dimly lit corner booth, there was a staunch and needy kiss from the two of you, and Wanda swallowed roughly. 

From here, if you were none the wiser, Wanda could be easily mistaken for the girl in the booth with you. 

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Sometimes, Wanda believes she's just being absolutely ridiculous. So what if you go after girls who share the same features as her? That didn't have to mean anything. You've always told Wanda she was beautiful, and it was perfect how you said it. 

It didn't feel insincere or creepy. It felt good to know her best friend thought she was absolutely gorgeous. But just because you thought she was beautiful doesn't mean you harbored secret feelings for her. 

You'd be insulted if you knew Wanda had ever thought that. She'd just be another one of those girls Wanda's seen you humble on multiple occasions when they found out you dated women, and they were worried you might have a crush on them. 

But then, Wanda couldn't stop thinking she actually might be one of those girls because then she'd think about if you didn't consider her like that, it wasn't about her looks but something about her personality that wasn't your type. 

And what could that be?

Wanda thought long and hard, trying to remember the girls you've introduced her to. 

Sometimes they were funny, and Wanda was funny. She made you laugh all the time. She specifically remembered one time in high school when she made you laugh so hard you peed your pants just a little. 

Sometimes they were intellectual, and while Wanda didn't have an IQ of 160, she did fairly well academically and was on the right track in her career. 

Sometimes they were charming, and Wanda was the type where she got more charming the more you got to know her. 

So, Wanda just doesn't understand. She's nowhere further with her thinking ever since this weird information has been bestowed upon her.

Maybe it all just means nothing. You just didn't feel that way about Wanda despite the type of girls you dated suggesting otherwise. You didn't need a reason for it, and maybe the fact you only felt friendship for her was the reason. 

"Wanna order pizza in tonight?"

Wanda turns her head from the tv and notices you've put your book down. "Hm, not really. We had pizza last week," Wanda shakes her head. 

"How about that Greek place that just opened up on Willington Ave?" You suggest. "Pretty sure I heard you grumbling about wanting Greek food earlier this week."

"I was not grumbling!" Wanda scoffs but smiles when you raise your eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was grumbling a little."

You snicker as you pull out your phone to order delivery. "Oh, sweet golden best friend of mine, whatever shall you do when you get married to Vis, who hates Greek food. Do I foresee a life of Greekless cuisine? Oh, the suffering you'll go through!"

"I don't need him to like it," Wanda slaps your arm, sticking her tongue out before she cuddles you. "I have you to eat it with."

You laugh unabashedly, a sound that Wanda's accustomed to hearing the joyful sound. "Better hope the person I marry also hates Greek cuisine. I don't know if I can live a life of eating double the Greek food. I love tzatziki sauce, but if I grow to hate it from eating it too much, I will make you suffer the consequences of that."

Your voice trails off as you focus on ordering food, unable to see the cogs in Wanda's head turning. 

It's all so easy. There's no tension, no electric vibes happening. Just best friends enjoying the banter and making plans to eat. 

It was all in Wanda's head, right? You're her best friend, so of course you'd know everything about her. 

The right type of friendship is fulfilling and soul-connecting, and that's what Wanda has with you. When you have a one-in-a-million connection like that, the line between friendship and romance is thin, isn't it?

Wanda hates Steve. She'd never think about this if it wasn't for Stupid Steve. She can hear his dumb laugh, blissfully ignorant about the observation bomb he dropped upon her. 

"Do you wanna get ice cream after?" You ask, throwing your phone to the side. "I'll even treat you to the gelato despite knowing I'm going to suffer through your crazy farts later."

"Oh my god, I'm going to trap you under the blanket with it just for that!" 

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Within two months, Wanda forgets about it. Forgets, as in that she decides to drop it (let it linger in the deep depths of her brain that she refuses to acknowledge), and resolves that Steve has no brain cells and has no idea what he's saying. 

"Have you seen my strapless black top?" Wanda shouts from her room with the door open. "The one with the v-shaped front!"

"In your closet!" You yelled back from the living room, not taking your eyes off your phone. 

"I can't find it," Wanda whines, and she hears you sigh as you get up. The footsteps approach her room, and she finds you standing at the door with an unimpressed look.

"I don't want to hear it," Wanda sniffs. 

"Hear what, brat?" You say with a brow raised before you start rummaging through her closet. The nickname was a joke you started that Wanda was entirely a spoiled person, exhibiting bratty behavior at times. "That I'm not gonna be your roommate forever, so you need to learn to fold it yourself before putting it away?"

Wanda makes grumbling noises that are mostly nonsensical but smiles when you pull out the top she was looking for. 

"You are the apple of my eye, stinky," Wanda grabs the top from you before she runs into her washroom to briefly change into it. 

"A match made in heaven, yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes with good humor. "Hurry up, Natasha will kill us if we're late for Yelena's birthday. They're on an upwards mend in their relationship, so she's been so unbearably uptight lately to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"I know, I know," Wanda mutters, carefully pulling the top over her head to not ruin her makeup. 

"Alright, I'll hail us a cab, meet me outside."

"Wait, wait!" Wanda calls out. "I need help putting on my necklace."

You chuckle, walking back just as Wanda steps out of the bathroom with the delicate necklace she wants to wear. 

"Alright, alright, relax," you tell her. "Your accent gets really strong when you're stressed."

"You're stressing me out by rushing me," Wanda scrunches her nose even though you can't see it. "I'm also stressed knowing that you have to rush me, or I'll spend the party getting lectured by Natasha."

Wanda's voice comes out husked with the accent, something she's struggled between hating or loving, but mostly loving since you've expressed how lovely it is.

You grab the necklace from her hand, and Wanda moves her hair out of the way. The routine of it all starts to bleed the tension out of her shoulders. 

Then, that horrible Stupid Steve Sentence kicks into her brain. 

 It's only as you put your arms over, placing the necklace against Wanda's chest, and focusing on trying to get the clasp in. Wanda can feel your warm breath against her neck, summoning goosebumps along her arms. You're so close, and she can feel the heat of your body radiating onto her, your fingers just barely brushing against her.

The tension comes suddenly, squeezing inside her chest as her breathing slows and shakes. Her body warms in an unexpected way. 

"Ah, got it," you say, but Wanda can only focus on your voice and breath on the shell of her ear. "Cute necklace but the clasp is so annoying."

You pull away and start walking off. "C'mon, I bet if we tip our taxi driver an extra $20 bucks, they'll speed and we can pray we're on time."

Wanda's left standing there, knowing she probably sounds like she's fresh out of Sokovia with how stressed she is. Her right eye twitches.

Was that...Wanda gulps. Was that sexual tension?

And was she the only one who felt it?

Fuck.

She's going to kill Steve.

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Natasha's absolutely neurotic when they arrive. It's just a simple backyard party, but it almost looks like a wedding venue with all the catering and flowers. 

Wanda's pretty sure Natasha's only being like this because she's overthinking about whether to cling to Yelena or give her sister some space to mingle with others. She seems to be sizing up Kate, who Yelena might be seeing, but it hasn't been confirmed. 

Yelena looks between exasperated with Natasha and secretly happy about the entire thing. Wanda can sympathize with her. After all, she's also a little sister, and Pietro can also be way too overprotective. Sometimes she's glad he's abroad in Europe for work while she remains in New York, but she misses him more often than she admits. 

"Alright, alright, Natasha," you groan, and Wanda's mind slips back into the conversation. "We're 3 minutes late, relax, will you? Damn, are you always gonna be like this until you and Yelena get back into whatever sibling bond you had before? Hope you're just like this with us because otherwise, you're gonna scare away all her friends, and she's going to hate you."

"Oh my god, do you think she'll really hate me?" Natasha bites her bottom lip in worry while looking around at all the people that they can only assume she's nagged about being late or whatever mishap. 

"Oh, man," you sigh, putting your hand on her shoulders before pushing her towards the bar. "You need some drinks and maybe some desserts in you."

Wanda's about to follow you when you turn around and nod your head in a different direction. She looks over and sees you're nodding toward Vision.

"You should go say hi to him," you tell her. "You've been complaining about not seeing him all last week, even though I don't know why you guys won't just FaceTime, but I digress. Come find me later, or I'll find you after."

You look over at Natasha, who's peering on her tippy toes to see if she can find Yelena.

"And, hopefully, I'll have ditched this nutjob," you whisper conspiratorially and laugh when Natasha turns around to smack your arm. 

"I heard that!"

Wanda chuckles as you walk off with Natasha while she turns and heads toward Vision. Despite how she was complaining about not seeing Vision last week because she did miss him, her expression was sour as she made her way toward him. 

Vision spots her immediately and waves at her with a warm smile. Wanda feels herself somewhat loosened at his expression. They'd also been friends a long time before they started on-and-off dating, so at the very least, she does miss his easy friendship. 

"Hey," Vision hugs her, slightly rubbing her back before he pulls away but keeps his arm around her. "It's been a while; you look lovely."

"Thanks," Wanda smiles with a shrug. She looks around and sees he's standing with Tony and Pepper. "How are you guys?"

"Could be better," Tony sighs dramatically. "Natasha won't let me do any of my cool party tricks as if I'm going to ruin her little sister's party. If anything, I could make it the party of the century!"

Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "We were just talking about how we're thinking of going to the Bahamas for vacation in December and escaping the cold. We've invited you and Vision along since it's been awhile since we've all gone together. Of course, we can also invite Bug and Natasha."

"Oh," Wanda says for a lack of anything else to say. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she peers over at Vision, who's just smiling at her and looking eager about it. 

"I need another drink if I'm going to suffer through this party," Tony sighs. "Maybe I can convince Yelena instead!" He grins, dragging Pepper along, and they walk off together. 

"So, what do you think?" Vision asks when they're alone. "I didn't want to reply on your behalf since I wasn't sure, but I think it'd be good for us. I've missed you," Vision pauses as if he's about his next words but then says, "a lot."

"Yeah, me too," Wanda starts to say, but then her brain gets all haywire because it feels like a lie. She did miss him, but did she miss him a lot? "I think."

"You think?"

Wanda wants to smack her forehead because she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean, I was complaining a lot that I haven't seen you in a while all last week."

"Yeah, work has just been overwhelming. I get so tired after work, I just can't keep up with the texting or calls."

But you can, Wanda thinks. Granted, you're her roommate, so it's easier. But even when you have to go on work trips, you regularly text her no matter what time and squeeze in a quick call, even if it's just to say goodnight. 

The entire thing makes Wanda bite her tongue because why was she even thinking about that? That was completely irrelevant to Vision. 

Then—because as if just thinking about you wasn't enough—her eyes trail across the room, and the scene before her makes Wanda even more confused about her feelings.

You're standing there with Natasha at the bar, but it looks like Natasha's calling someone over to introduce you to them.

Another brunette with long, wavy hair, like she just had a blowout done. Wanda's not 100% sure from this distance, but she has an inkling that the brunette also has green eyes. She's wearing a white halter top and wide-legged sage green pants. She wears a lot of rings, but her makeup is lighter and more summery compared to Wanda's darker, smokey eye makeup.

In short, this woman was the clean girl aesthetic version of Wanda. 

And you look interested. 

This was ridiculous, Wanda fumes, feeling her stomach sink and cheeks flare hot in anger. As quick as the anger came, it dissipated.

Why was she so angry?

She feels betrayed, and her thoughts are turning very ugly. Wanda is definitely not being a girl's girl right now with how much she's thinking she's better than the girl in front of you. 

But that just makes everything so much more confusing. 

"Wanda?"

Wanda turns her head back to Vision. He looks concerned, and even when his eyes trail toward what Wanda's staring at, there's no additional reaction. He's not upset that she's staring at you, and that has to mean something, right?

It must mean there was never a concern about how Wanda might've felt about you. Sure, there were a few things Wanda couldn't be without, and you were one of them, but nobody can't be without their best friend. 

No one had ever blinked twice about you and Wanda.

Except now.

And that person was Wanda herself. 

The more Wanda thought about the entire thing, the more she became curious. The idea of you dating people who looked like Wanda was intriguing. She wanted to ask questions but didn't know what to ask.

It might mean nothing, but it also might mean something. 

And if it does mean something, Wanda wants to know what exactly it is. 

Therefore, Wanda needs nothing in her way to find out the truth and exactly what she wants, regardless of the answer. 

This was insane, wasn't it? Wanda's always been ambivalent about dating women. She's never gone out of her way to try it since she had Vision. Never mind entertaining thoughts about dating her best (girl)friend. And now, she was giving everything up in the pursuit of finding out what it could mean that her best friend was dating her lookalikes—and why she cared.

Wanda doesn't even know what she'll want to do with that information. 

Wanda looks at Vision, peering at his features she's always found handsome. When she thinks back, she's not even sure why she complained to you about how she hasn't seen or heard from him lately. She hadn't even gone out of her own way to do something about it.

"I'm not going on the trip. I don't think I actually missed you like that."

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The girl introduced to you was named Raye, Natasha's coworker that recently moved from Nashville. It was also confirmed she has green eyes, though they had specks of brown in them. She was a southern belle with a bold attitude, witty, and a wicked sense of humor. All in all, undeniably charismatic. 

At least, that's what you told her in private because all Wanda could feel was unrestricted aggravation with the other girl. The southern twang made Wanda's eye twitch, mostly because she knew you were head over heels for accents.  

"And then before I knew it, I was panicked and more lost than a blindfolded turkey on thanksgiving!"

You burst out laughing while Wanda's expression is stony, but when you look at Wanda, she forces a smile on her lips.

"Hahaha," Wanda dryly let out. "So funny."

But it wasn't. What the fuck did that even mean?

Raye continues to talk while you listen with rapt interest, and Wanda takes the time to observe your features in a way she's done many times before but with a different mindset. 

Your lips are curved in a smile, glistening from your chapstick. They're shapely, and they look soft. It rivals her favorite feature of yours, which is your eyes. They've always been so expressive with her, and Wanda's been around long enough that she knows what every expression means. She can tell when they glint with mischievousness or are soft with immense compassion and empathy. 

"So, what did you think of Raye?" You ask Wanda as you leave the party.

"She's cool, I guess," Wanda answers nonchalantly. 

The rest of the party was excruciating between Raye constantly hanging around you and Wanda also being too nervous to be alone with you. 

"Really cool," you sigh with a grin. "Glad I got her number. It's been a while since I've met someone so funny."

Was she funny, though? Wanda wonders.

"Funnier than me?" Wanda finds herself asking.

"No one could be funnier than you, brat," you smirk. "I almost peed myself laughing again when you almost knocked off Yelena's cake. I thought Natasha was about to enter into a coma." You snicker while Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile. 

"Glad I can always give you the biggest laughs, stinky."

Wanda glances over at your face, recognizing the excitement by the brightness in them. It's just another reminder that, as your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand. 

But lately, when Wanda watches you pick up girls, she can tell when they're heady with desire. That look hasn't been directed at her, and Wanda wants to know what it'd be like if it were.

Wanda recalls the night you kissed the bartender and imagines if it had been her instead. She pictures your hand sliding across her jaw and cheek while your other pulls her closer at the waist. 

It's horrifying when a slow pit of arousal builds in Wanda's gut and...other regions. It feels utterly frightening and wrong like she's betraying the friendship for having and then reacting to such thoughts about you. 

But there's another part—the part that tells Wanda there's nobody in this world that she loves more than you. The mere idea of ever being apart from you was unfathomable. Wanda could and has endured so many things, and it would always be okay as long as she had you. 

So, knowing that Southern Belle Raye has the potential to be more than a one-night stand to you, Wanda realizes that she has a very small window to not only come to terms with her newfound feelings but also act on them as well. 

If this didn't go well, Wanda would definitely murder Steve.

PART TWO

[helaelaemond]

Teach Me Your Touch - Michael Gavey x Reader

HELAELAEMOND’S KINKTOBER

thank you @arcielee for the banner!

Pairing:  Michael Gavey x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: You missed a lecture and have your classmate Michael Gavey share his notes and help you catch up. He's not good at teaching, and he makes you feel stupid. He makes you feel bad. When you cry, he wants to fuck you all better.

Content warning(s): light elements of bullying (prior to smut), feelings of intellectual inferiority

KINK CATEGORIES: public sex, crying, inexperience/loss of virginity (male), fingering (female receiving)

Rating: E

Tagging those who showed interest: @llemes @assortedseaglass @sapphire-writes @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @humanpurposes @underjeno @st-eve-barnes @arcielee @babyblue711

Michael's voice is snappy. "Are you listening to me?"

You look up at him in defeat. "Yes, I'm trying! But I don't-"

"I can't make it any clearer!"

You lean forward on the table and rest your head in your hands. "You're making me feel stupid."

He huffs. "Maybe you are."

Arsehole. Why did you even ask him for his help? You know he's a dickhead, but he's also smart. Last semester, you worked on a group project with him and although he was terrible working with other people, his understanding of the subject was unmatched. He's like a walking calculator, for God's sake, and that intellect seems to apply to every module.

Besides, last time, he had a mean streak, but he also seemed to soften with you. You're not exactly a bombshell, but you're still a woman, and he's a lonely man. You were kind to him last time you worked together, and it made him kinder, too.

Whatever rapport once existed between you, though, seems to have faded. Now, you're sat on the second floor of Radcliffe library under the tall arched ceilings at 2am. No one else is around to see your shame, thankfully.

It's been a long time since you've felt simple. You shouldn't feel stupid - you're on the same course as him! You only missed one lecture! It shouldn't be this hard!

"You're not making it easy to understand," you mumble.

"What?" he asks, irritated.

You lift your head and look at him, eyes red. "My mind doesn't work as quick as yours. I need you to explain it differently."

He blinks at you from behind his thick glasses, and you watch as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing above his buttoned collar. "Right. Fine. You did the reading, and you understand that a tangled hierarchy is a hierarchical consciousness system in which a strange loop appears. Right?"

Clenching your jaw, you nod. "That much I understand, Michael. I'm not as simple as you think."

"I don't think you're simple. I think you're acting simple."

It's too late and you're too tired. Hot tears spill down your cheeks. "You're acting mean."

"What?" He has the audacity to look shocked. "I'm helping!"

"No, you're not." You stand up and shove your notes into your rucksack hastily, along with your pens and library copy of the required reading. "You've spent the last three hours making me feel stupid and small and unintelligent, and you've enjoyed every second."

"No!" he protests angrily. "Don't tell me how I feel!"

"Alright! Well, that's how you've made me feel! And that's not fair! God, I really thought-" You cut yourself off and take a deep breath. But you're still crying, and it's embarrassing, and you furiously wipe away your tears. They're quickly replaced.

Michael stands up and follows you as you stalk off down the rows and rows of bookcases. He calls your name, but you ignore him. It's loathsome how hearing him say it gives you butterflies. "Will you just wait?" he shouts.

You whirl around to face him, making your rucksack fall off your shoulder and onto the floor. The noise echoes in the cavernous library, and you're suddenly very aware of how empty it is of other people. It didn't bother you before. It doesn't exactly bother you now, either, but... but there's something intense about the way he looks at you. It's angry, it's apprehensive, it's... it makes your skin crawl.

"What is it, Michael?" you ask. You're caught somewhere between anger and weariness.

"It's not my fault you feel stupid," he says defiantly.

"For the love of-"

"Because you're not stupid. You're just acting it. Like I said."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He swallows. "Yes. You're not as smart as me. But that doesn't mean you're stupid."

You laugh dryly. "I don't know why I was ever nice to you. You have no interest in being nice to me."

Again, confusion flickers over his face. "I agreed to help you, didn't I? that's nice!"

"I think you only agreed to it so you could make me feel like dirt." You pick up your bag again and continue your way to the stairs that will take you down to the main entrance. You're still crying. He's absolutely shattered you tonight, and it's not fair.

Suddenly, there's a hand around your wrist, and it stops you in your tracks. It becomes abundantly clear that Michael Gavey is far stronger than he looks. You're left breathless when, out of nowhere, he pulls you between tall bookcases. He towers over you. You've always noticed how tall he is. Despite his somewhat bookish appearance, there's something about him that has always been nice to look at. Perhaps it's his thick hair, or his sharp jaw, or his pretty blue eyes. Something about him, despite his nasty streak, makes you wish he approved of you.

"Stop crying."

You sniff and look up at him in shame. "I'm trying."

"Try harder."

That makes your face crumple again. "Leave me alone."

"I want to help."

"Let me go."

"You're kind to me," he says, his voice suddenly quieter. When he says your name, it cracks. "I'm trying to make you feel better."

"It's not working."

"Teach me," he whispers. The intensity with which he is now looking at you in almost too much.

"Say something nice about me."

"Oh. Um." His hand loosens slightly on your wrist. You're all too aware of how clammy it is against your skin. You don't care. Any touch from him is, unfortunately, welcome. "Your work on our projective geometry project was good."

"I know it was."

"Alright." He licks his lips. His eyes dart to yours. "You're... good at explaining things in different ways. I'm not."

You sniff, and look down at your feet. His body is close to yours, and your gaze catches something in his trousers. Perhaps his zipper is caught on something. Or perhaps... perhaps...

Your heart races.

"Why did you agree to help me?" you ask, eyes still downcast.

"You asked."

"Why?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth, Michael."

"Um."

It's so late, and you're so tired. The uncertainty makes the tears fall again. Your head hurts so much. "I'm going."

Michael cries out your name throatily. In a heartbeat, he grasps your shoulders and pushes you against the bookcase, and then his tall, lean body is pressed against yours and his clammy hands find their place on your neck. "Don't cry," he tells you. His face comes closer to yours. His glasses begin to steam up.

"You've done this to me."

"I want to make you feel better. But..."

"But?"

"But you're so pretty when you cry."

And then he kisses you.

It is messy, wet, and needy. He doesn't hesitate to push his tongue against yours, and his glasses press against your face. It should make you squirm away. But it makes you whimper quietly. Your bag drops to the floor, and your hands fly to his narrow hips. You open your mouth wide against his desperately, your teeth clinking against his, and he mirrors you until your lips, your cheeks, your nose, are wet with his spit.

He doesn't know what he's doing. You hardly do, either. And it's so fucking good.

"Michael," you whisper between hard and deep kisses.

He groans your name. "I've thought about this since we first met."

"You thought about me?"

He nods, before burying his face in your throat. His greedy mouth kisses up and down before they settle where your neck and shoulder meet, and he sucks. At his hips, your hands ball into fists around his belt. The carabiner he wears on it with a collection of USBs knocks against your fingers and you tug on it.

You want to fuck him.

"Yeah," he murmurs against your skin. "Think about you in lectures. What I wanna do to you."

To you. Not with you. God, that should make you want to leave. Instead, you resolve to stay.

"Yeah?" you ask breathlessly. "Show me."

"Okay."

Nervous sweat dampens his forehead, but you don't care. You feel it when he presses it against yours and palms you over your jacket. Your soft bra is padded, and you can hardly feel his touch. It's driving you mad. In frustration, you unbutton your shirt quickly and look up at him. "Touch me. Please, Michael, please-"

He breathes loudly through his mouth. His lips are wet with sailva; he's practically drooling. He hesitates.

"Have you been with a woman before?" you ask, chest heaving with need.

His grits his teeth, anger flashing across his face at the question, the mere insinuation that this is his first time. You take that as a no.

So it's your turn to teach him. But just from his desperate kisses, you're almost blind with desire, and there's not much patience left in you. So you pull your breast free from its cup, and press on the back of his head. He's so fucking tall. "Kiss me here," you whine softly. "Suck my nipple."

He is a better pupil than tutor. Perhaps, if you were less aroused, you would tell him to be gentler. But as it is, his eagerness is rough and hard and just what you need. The sharp pull of his mouth sends electricity through you, from your head to your toes, and you arch up against him.

"Your hand," you tell him. "Down my trousers. You thought about that, right?"

Against your breast, he nods. He bites your nipple, and you dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet. It's the middle of the night, but anyone could walk in.

He fumbles with your button and zipper, and then his hand is down the front of your jeans and you spread your legs. He palms you hard, and instinctively, you grind against the touch.

"Let me show you something." Your breathing is laboured already, just like his. He releases your breast from his mouth and meets your gaze with pupils blown wide. You feel your heartbeat under his hand.

You wriggle your jeans down to your knees and then push down your underwear too, enough that you can spread your legs and cover his hand with yours. You guide his long fingers against your cunt, and it takes no time at all to show him how hot and swollen your clit is.

"Like that," you whisper as you press his digits into a firm and fast pace.

"God," he whimpers. "You're so... you're wet."

You nod. "Yeah. Means I want you."

Without needing to be guided this time, his touch strays down, and he presses his middle finger through your folds. When he finds your entrace and slips inside, he moans so loudly that you have to clamp your hand over his mouth.

His eyes are wide and pleading with you. He watches your face so closely as he pushes a second finger inside of you, and he kisses and sucks at your palm against his mouth.

"That's good," you tell him quietly, nodding your head. "Rub circles around my clit with your thumb. Oh, God, yeah, like that. That's good, Michael. Oh, God, don't stop."

When your hand against his mouth goes slack, he takes the opportunity to kiss you again. He shoves his tongue back into your mouth and it's so messy, so needy so erotic, that you have to quickly push his hand away depsite your previous order.

"What?" he asks, suddenly panicked. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," you gasp. "Gonna make me come already."

His cheeks flush a deep red. "Really?"

He grins lopsidedly, and you whine, "want you inside."

Gulping, and with shaking hands, he unbuckles his belt and the clink of metal seems to echo loudly in the cavernous hall. He shuffles his trousers down his hips, mirroring you, and you look down to see how his hard cock strains against the soft briefs he wears. God, there shouldn't be anything sexy about the y-fronts he's sporting, but you can see the thick outline of him, his heavy balls, and its maddening.

Neither of you care that you're in public now. He pushes his underwear down, too, and when you whisper for him to lift you up, he does it with surprising easy. You kick your trousers and underwear off, spread your legs for him, and grasp the bookshelves at your back for support. His arms are hooked under your thighs and he watches with glasses slipping down his nose as his cock lines up against you.

Instinct takes over. He shoves his cock through your folds, back and forth, coating himself with your arousal, and he presses over your clit with his tip time and time again.

He moans your name too loudly.

"Shh," you soothe, as if you're not fighting with all of your strength to stay quiet. "God, that feels good."

"Inside?" he asks, unable to take his eyes off his cock on your cunt.

"If you want."

"I do." He meets your gaze. There's a vulnerability in him that you haven't seen before. And then you clench, and he feels your muscles tighten, and desire wins out. After a moment of slipping through you, he presses his blunt head against you, and pushes into you in one, swift movement.

The speed takes you by surprise. He's bigger than the vibrator you've been satisfied with lately, but that's alright. You're wet and throbbing, relaxed enough to take him. But it's still a stretch, albeit a blissful one. It's a stretch that borders the line between sweet and stinging, and tears prick your eyes. Good tears, this time.

"Okay?" he asks, voice cracking.

They drip down your cheeks but you smile, biting your lip, and nod. "Yeah. Hard. Go hard, Michael. Need- God, need you!"

And he does as you tell him. "Think about you," he grunts as he thrusts hard and fast. He's on the tip of his toes, knees bent, as he sets a brutal pace that has your body aflame. "All the... fuck, all the time. Oh! Oh!"

You clamp your hand back over his mouth to stifle his moans, and they dissolve into whimpers that match his hard, laboured breaths. They come through his nose and make the skin of your hand prickle. Michael grips your hips hard enough to bruise and it's so good, it's so fucking good. He wants you, he needs you. That's why he agreed to help you. That's why he accepted your kindness.

He likes you. Buried six inches deep in you, you realise this. It makes you bury your face into his neck, and you bite his earlobe. He whimpers in response. "Shh," you soothe.

"Close," he groans against your hand.

"Me too," you breathe. The coil in your stomach is tightening. The tension in your thighs spreads up your back, between your shoulders, and all the way down to your toes. As you wrap your legs around his slim waist, you wonder, in the back of your mind, if the shoes you still wear will leave a mark on his shirt.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, so good, fuck-!" He comes suddenly, buried deep inside you, and you feel him spurt inside of you. But it doesn't matter, you're so undone it doesn't matter, it doesn't fucking matter-!

He whines your name and presses his groin tight against your as his orgasm stutters over him. Dropping his head on your shoulder, he pants, and whispers your name.

"Michael," you protest quietly. "Plase, I'm not there, I'm-"

You rock your hips against him needily. As if it is the easiest thing in the world, he sets you down and pulls out, and immediately replaces his cock with his hand. Just as you showed him before, he buries his fingers back in your pussy and circles your clit with his thumb, and you appreciate it, you do, but it's not enough, it's not enough-

"Oh, God," you groan softly. "Like this."

You're trembling close and youre's so needy, and you grab his hand and press all fingers against your mound, showing him to press as hard and fast as he can. It hurts in the best way, and his hand is almost a blur, and he studies your face with an open mouth as your expression crinkles, tightens, your jaw slack and eyes scrunched closed.

The orgasm he gives you explodes through your body and you white out, knees giving way and balancing falling through. With his hand still firm against your cunt, he catches you and holds you steady, and you clutch against him blindly for balance. "I've got you," he grunts. "Easy."

But there's pride in his voice. He keeps his hand against you even after your orgasm has washed over you. Your flesh there twitches, hot and swollen, and his fingers gently press in different places to learn about you. Whatever information he gathers makes him smile.

After a long moment, enough strength returns to you that you can stand steadily again. "God, that was..."

"Acceptable?" he asks hopefully.

You're bending down to pull your underwear and trousers back on, and you glance up, trying not to grin. "It was good."

He smiles slightly and nods, looking away as if deep in thought. "Alright, that's good, then. Next time, should I wait for you to... to finish first?"

"Next time?" you ask with a quiet laugh. Standing upright, you do your trousers back up and he does the same, the USB still swinging from his belt.

"We have to do this again." Michael says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then, he brings the hand up covered in your wetness, and he licks his fingers clean. His eyes close in bliss. "You taste so sweet."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you smile even wider. "You don't have to do that."

Swallowing, he murmurs your name and smiles. It's the most genuine smile you've seen him wear. "Oh, I do. You know me. Always had a sweet tooth."

[yallthemwitches]

The Act of Listening

She has to admit  that their time together—definitely not a date, but a time nonetheless—is going smoothly. So smoothly that when he offers to buy her another butterbeer, she accepts. Smooth enough that when he returns and pulls his chair just a tad closer to her, knees touching and staying rubbing together under the table, she doesn’t complain either.  So smooth that she doesn’t notice Emy Trona walk into the pub and make a beeline for their table. 

Because we always need more of jealous Lily---Here's @jilytoberfest Day 15 prompt:" you can kiss me, you know" because I mixed up the prompt order yesterday.

AO3 Link Here

“It’s not a date.”

“Dunno, kinda feels like a date.”

“Well it’s not.” She takes a furtive sip of her butterbeer, punctuating her sentence. 

“We are all alone…”

“---yeah because Sirius and Mary ran out to watch Roy and Margot’s explosive public breakup.”

“We danced...”

“You sang two lines of a song and I swayed in mock admiration.”

“Well, color me an optimist but mock admiration is one step away from real admiration.” 

She gives a long defeated sigh, knowing he is not going to let up until either their friends return or some force of nature steers him off course. The worst part about it is, every time he uses that word—the d word—her heart jumps a little in her chest, making it awfully hard to keep a straight face, much less drink her butterbeer like a sane person. 

James takes a swig of his butterbeer, relaxing his arm on the back of his chair. He tugs at his tie until it loosens around his neck, making his shirt open a little wider on his chest and she tries not to let her eyes linger on the space. 

“So—how’s Vernon?”

Lily chokes on air. Hearing Vernon’s name in this environment, from James Potter of all people, was not something she had anticipated.

“Excuse me?”

James blinks at her like he said the most normal thing, not the name of her muggle sister’s muggle fiancé.

“Vernon. You know, the muggle bloke who shows up at your house and regrettably snogs your sister—-“

Lily makes a noise of disgust. “How’d you—“

In the library. She had been complaining about Petunia and Vernon earlier that week—-venting mostly to herself more than talking to any one person, but James had been around and apparently in enough earshot to make note of it. 

It catches her off guard just as much as all the other times James has proven that he’s listening. Like when he always knows to pass the cream and sugar to her for her morning tea, or when he left her a copy of Rubber Soul on her desk after lamenting to Remus that she misplaced her own.. 

And it isn't just that he is attentive, but how he is—-like it is the most obvious and normal thing in the world for him to commit everything she has ever said in his general area to memory. Most blokes she’s snogged or dated didn’t have the brain elasticity to remember her birthday, much less her shitty brother-in-law to be. 

“...you always hold out your e’s when you say his name. Veeernon.” James adds, now timid. He must have sensed how shocked she was—that or the bloom of pink on her cheeks was giving her away.

“He’s horrible,” she responds, cutting through the feeling that her heart is about to flop right onto the table as his eyes do that thing that says I’m really listening.

  “--And I just got news that I will have to spend Christmas holiday with him and my family at a bloody theme park of all places.”

James' eyes widen. “Theme…park?”

“Yeah—-you know the places that have rides with really expensive themed food and people assaulting you in costume.”

James blinks. “No—-I don’t know.” A small smile cracks on his face. “But will you tell me?”

She doesn’t know when time starts to slip away from her, but quickly she is knee deep in explaining the finer points of muggle attraction parks; Sirius and Mary’s return completely forgotten. It's something else that she has come to find frustrating with their newfound friendship—time just disappears when she talks to him, eaten up quickly by laughter and snarky quips and cheeks hurting from smiling so much because he is also smiling too much for any given topic. 

She feels she will be forever egged on the attention of James Potter in more ways than one, swearing they could be talking about cement drying and he would listen in complete rapt fascination, peppering in jokes and overtly idiotic questions just to keep it going. Even now, she doesn’t know how explaining a merry-go-round could be funny, but she finds herself laughing more than talking by the end, him constantly interrupting to act out rhetorical scenarios he creates on the spot (“But what if—and just humor me Evans—this Marieee-go-round was able to make you old the more times it turned –I mean, I think this has potential.”) 

She has to admit  that their time together—definitely not a date, but a time nonetheless—is going smoothly. So smoothly that when he offers to buy her another butterbeer, she accepts. Smooth enough that when he returns and pulls his chair just a tad closer to her, knees touching and staying rubbing together under the table, she doesn’t complain either.  So smooth that she doesn’t notice Emy Trona walk into the pub and make a beeline for their table. 

“Hey James.” Emy pulls her long braid of black hair over her shoulder, pursing her lips in a coy smile. 

James sits up a little, and the noticeable drop in temperature makes her realize how close they actually were to each other. 

“Alright, Emy?” He flashes her his signature grin, cocky and full of confidence. A cold chill catches a wave up Lily’s spine.

“Didn’t get to talk to you about the last game. You played really well out there– as usual.” The last part makes Lily scoff into her butterbeer and Emy’s eyes dart warily over to her, sizing her and her proximity to James up before focusing back on him.

She has to hand it to her, Emy doesn’t waste her time finding avenues to flirt. She starts a rapport about quidditch and James immediately becomes engaged, using terms that Lily realizes she has no idea what they mean. It isn’t like she doesn’t know what the sport is, but in the presence of two players, she finds herself out of her depth—an advantage that she is sure is not lost on Emy. Feeling more and more like a third wheel, she sits in silence, wishing Emy would take her batting eyes and silky hair elsewhere. 

“Why don't we practice together sometime—- like a one on one?” 

 All the blood in Lily’s body starts to congeal—she understands that lingo. A burning sensation starts to bubble in her stomach, her whole body tensing like it's ready for impact.

Glancing over at James, she sees that his expression is unchanged—-forever cool as though this fit girl who plays quidditch is not asking him to make some time out of his schedule to snog her. 

Suddenly Lily has the urge to run, her leg bouncing with the anxiety of just having to stew in the image of whatever debauched thing James and Emy could possibly do around the quidditch pitch. Their knees knock. She moves to switch angles but warm fingers curl over the top of her thigh, effectively freezing her entire body.   

“Hey, you haven’t even gotten a drink yet! Mind getting Evans and I a refill?” His hand continues to rest on her, giving a small squeeze at the mention of her name. Emy flashes a smile and sings out an I’ll be right back before sauntering off, turning back to cast a coy smile at him while not so subtly leaning against the bar top so her arse sticks out.

“Alright Evans?” She knows he is looking at her, but she stares into her empty bottle, his hand feeling like the only thing keeping her tethered to the spot.

“I was actually just thinking about looking for–”

“Don’t abandon me Evans–not with her.” 

Lily whips her head up. He has red blooming under his glasses, but his gaze is strong and sincere.

“I’m not following. You both seemed to be hitting it off rather well just a second ago…”

James takes a deep sigh, skirting his eyes to the bar to make sure Emy is still preoccupied with getting drinks. “I don’t want to snog Emy, alright. She’s been after me all month and—ah fuck maybe its my stupid ego, but I haven’t had the heart to properly tell her off yet.”

 His eyes are shifting, moving his hand off her thigh and into his hair out of nervous habit. She wishes it would return to her. 

“Oh.” There’s a rush inside her, the feeling of air coming back into her lungs, all body systems returning to proper functioning. 

James starts to fiddle with the label on his empty bottle, looking more sheepish than she ever thought possible. At the bar, Emy finishes paying, eyes continuing to glance back with pursed lips. 

Lily’s leg begins to flutter again, and he reaches out to stop her quivering for a second time, offering her a soft smile. It’s a welcome jolt of confidence that propels her voice forward.

“You could kiss me, you know.”

She feels his hand constrict on her leg. He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

“Uh—what?” 

Emy is turning away from the bar, drinks in hand. The window for action is closing fast, and she feels time slow, hovering them between indecision and direct action. She wishes she had more of it to decide, to deliberate the pros and cons, turn the scenario around and study it for possible outcomes. But she doesn’t have that luxury. All she has is James’ hot, perfect hand gripping the anxiety out of her leg and a wild predator sauntering back with her refill. 

She doesn’t elaborate for him. Instead, she grabs his jaw and turns his head until she finds her lips with his. 

Time falls away completely as she feels his mouth freeze, then slowly start to move under hers, soft but strong. She doesn’t know how long they are connected, but by the time they break apart his other hand has moved to her jaw, cupping her face while his thumbs graze her cheek. If Emy is still there, neither of them seem to care, their intermingling breath making anything beyond their touching bodies lost within a thick fog. 

He fits their mouths back together and miraculously it's even better the second time, now both familiar enough to get lost in each other’s rhythm, soft and yearning. She lets herself melt into him, curling her hands into his hair, completely high on the scent of spice and earth and unmistakable him.

When they part again, James lets out a soft oh, as though answering his own question, making her burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Sorry, I just—” She doesn’t know what to say. His forehead is pushing into hers, nose nuzzling her cheek, mouth drifting back. “---wanted to be helpful.” 

He smiles against her mouth, then pulls back to make a full barking laugh, cheeks red with utter joy. When he swoops back down to find her mouth again, his lips move fast and hungry, begging for more with each second. 

“I can’t believe you just said sorry to me,” he pants out between kisses, utterly lost in the feel of her. “--Also can’t believe this is how you kiss when it’s not even a bloody date.”

She snorts but he just continues to weave his hands in her hair, pressing her as close as their little spot in the world can afford. Across the table, three drinks are left opened and untouched for quite some time. 

[jeanie-g]

your prompts are open!!!!!! ❤️ if it hasn't already been asked yet, may I request 17 - bookstores for jacknico? (if it's taken, carte blanche to choose anyyyyy other one that you desire hehe)

perhaps not quite what you were thinking, but i had a great time w it hehe <33

[#17] bookstores

Jack is at the end of his rope. Intro to Russian Lit is in three hours and he cannot find a single copy of Crime and Punishment within a 30 mile radius. This might just be hell.

You could argue that it was his fault that he didn't check the syllabus until this morning, but who the hell assigns the first three chapters of a Dostoevsky novel for the first day? And sure, he Sparknotes'd it, but he still needs a copy for class. Jack has a feeling Professor Keefe is going to be formidable, and he doesn't want to start his college career with an enemy already.

Jack checked the central library and the foreign library—even the fucking law library, and those students can smell the undeclared liberal arts degree on you—as well as the campus bookstore, but it seems like every Freshman at Newark U is reading this goddamn book, because every shelf was empty by the time Jack made it there. Even Amazon won't deliver in time; fuck Jeff Bezos.

So, it's with a rapid heartbeat and a prayer on the tip of his tongue that he enters a small, cramped bookshop a few trolley stops from campus. It's gotta be the size of two dorm rooms, but the shelves are floor-to-ceiling, filled with books in ever color, size, and age. "Hischier Books" it's called, Jack catching the wooden marquee painted red and white above the entrance.

Jack can't deny that the little shop is cute—he could see himself window shopping in a place like this—but he's on a mission. He only has two-and-a-half hours now.

Eyes darting around the different hanging signs showing the genres, Jack makes his way over to "Russian Literature." He traces the spines from A to B to C until he gets to D. Okay, The Idiot, The Brothers Karamazov, Short Stories: Dostoevsky...

And then it's onto the E's. That's it? No Crime and Punishment?

Jack groans and knocks his head against the shelf. Did every student in Newark have the same idea as him, just a few days earlier than he did? It's actual cosmic punishment is what it is—for the high crime of procrastination. He doesn't want to linger on the irony.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice pipes in. "Those shelves can only hold so much weight."

Jack jumps back, cheeks turning red. He turns to apologize but stops short.

The man before him is not much taller than he is, clad in a grey, cable knit sweater that hugs his frame, and a crimson red apron tied around his waist. His small name tag reads "Nico." He's brunette, bearded, and maybe the most handsome man Jack's ever seen.

His eyes, so big and brown, pin Jack where he stands, kind but slightly mischievous. They're slightly squinted as he smiles, lips soft and lithe, and Jack sees the cute little dimples carved into his cheeks. Pretty is the first word that pops into Jack's head, and it just pings around there like a waiting screen logo as he stands—stupidly—silent.

The man before him—Nico—crosses his arms and holy shit he's gotta go to the gym every other day to get arms like that! Jack hasn't even said anything and he already looks like an idiot in front of this beefcake.

"Sorry," Jack finally blurts, probably cherry fucking red at this point. "I...I just—"

"Looking for something?" Nico asks, and he has this sexy fucking accent, too. How did Jack not notice before? He's checking off every damn box on Jack's list and Jack is, well...

"Um, yeah, but you've—you know, book?" Jack wants to melt into the floor and die. He shakes his head and exhales. "Crime and Punishment?"

Nico seems unaffected though. He purses his lips. "Well, this is Russian Lit, Dostoevsky..." He walks closer to Jack, and he's only got a couple inches on him honest, but it feels like Nico's towering over him. Jack is very normal about it.

Nico comes to a stop a shoulder's length away and eyes the shelf Jack was looking at. His thick brow furrows as he scans for it, and Jack can only stare at him—his eyes, his barely-there stubble, the way a cowlick swoops down across his forehead...

Nico stands back up and faces Jack. "Yeah, I guess we sold our last copy," he says, and that kinda kickstarts Jack's brain back up.

Fuck, right, the book. He doesn't have time to flirt. Besides, he's making himself look like an idiot anyways.

He tears his eyes away from Nico. He's got a little over two hours. A little over two hours before he enters his first class and completely embarrasses himself, no doubt setting up the worst expectations for himself for freshman year, hell—probably his whole academic career. Because of one stupid, overrated—

"I'm sorry," Nico continues. "I could order it for you if you like."

"No, I kinda needed it, like, yesterday." Jack huffs out a laugh and turns away. "That's not your fault though, obviously."

"Need it for an assignment I'm guessing?"

Jack clicks his tongue. Nico at least seems semi-interested in his plight. What does he have to lose in detailing his woes to a stranger? He turns back around.

"My Russian Lit professor assigned the first few chapters for the first day, and my stupid ass didn't check the syllabus until this morning."

Nico chuckles, and then immediately apologizes. Jack has to smile at that.

"No, it is funny, trust me," he says. "And now I'm gonna totally humiliate myself when I show up and can't even read a passage from it."

"Let me guess, Professor Keefe?" Nico asks.

Jack startles. Nico looks to be around his age, sure, but he kind of assumed he wasn't in college—not if he's working a shift during the day. "Yeah. You go to Newark U?"

The man shrugs, and his lips turn up into a tiny smile. "I'm a junior."

"Freshman," Jack replies, then instantly cringes. If he could seem any less cool—

"Well, I happen to be reading Crime and Punishment," Nico offers, trailing his finger along one of the shelves. "Some light leisure reading during my lunches."

Jack gapes. "Shut up, no you are not."

Nico nods. "I am."

"Dostoevsky is not leisure reading."

Nico, again, shrugs. It's too damn cute. Fuck.

"I can lend it to you if it'd help."

And Jack can't believe his ears. "You'd...you'd do that? I mean, you don't even know me."

"What's your name, then?" Nico asks, cool and easy.

Jack blushes. "Jack."

"Nice to meet you, Jack." He twiddles with his name tag. "Nico."

Jack smiles, not trusting his mouth to betray him and say something lame and embarrassing.

But then Nico's turning and walking, and Jack rushes to fall into step behind him. He leads him to back of the store, where the register is, reaches behind and grabs a book—and lo and behold, it's Crime and Punishment. Its pages are wrinkled from water damage and a corner's ripped off the cover, and it's perhaps the most glorious sight Jack's laid his eyes on.

Well, second glorious maybe.

Nico hands it to him. "It's not in the best condition, but—"

"It's perfect," Jack interrupts, flashing a gracious smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Nico's gaze is unrelenting, and Jack has to look away before he does something stupid like blurt out how hot he is.

"I can pay you or something."

"That's not necessary. It's my duty to assist our customers." He says the latter like he's reciting it from a handbook.

Jack snorts. "I'm not technically a customer if I don't buy anything."

Nico rolls his eyes. "Why are you trying to dissuade me?"

Jack lifts his chin, defiant. "Well, how are you so sure that I won't just keep it? Free book."

Nico pauses. "I'm not, but it'll help if I keep something of yours as collateral."

Jack chuckles. "Like what? I don't have much on me that'd interest you."

"How about your phone number?"

That stops Jack in his tracks, heart going double-time now.

Nico, sly as a fox, just raises his eyebrows in question.

Jack drops his gaze to the ground. "That could be arranged." And tapping some well of courage, "We'll have to figure out a rendezvous point for the book's return. Maybe Cafe Frejo, Friday?"

Jack finally picks his eyes back up, and Nico's grinning. "Works for me."

Jack gives Nico his number, inputting it into his phone with humiliatingly shaky hands. He says his thanks again, catching sight of those beautiful eyes one last time before he turns and exits the shop.

Two hours. Plenty of time to familiarize himself with the first three chapters.

It might be hard to focus now though. He's got a date on Friday, after all.

[vampiresdontbelonginfairytales]

In two minds as to whether to post this because I HOPE I'm going to do a comic arc of it.

But since I'm currently incredibly slow to do comics and also because I spent the last three days solid on it... Here it is.

But I guess if you'd rather see it in comic form and care about spoilers then don't read it?

EDIT: I wrote a follow up scene and then I wrote a follow up scene to the follow up scene and... Long story short, or rather, short story long, it's a book manuscript now. I've got 18k words so far

No book spoilers though! (The current book is coming along very well but isn't quite ready). << EDIT: this refers to a different book that is close to a final draft

----

“Um... I d-don’t have a l-lot, but...” Victor held out the canvas bag. The three of them had agreed to do a book swap, or rather, a manga swap. Lucinda had been bringing books to Fairyland for Will, as books were somewhat hard to come by, and she had offered to bring him books too. Victor, having no idea what books he wanted, not being savvy on the selection of Earth books available, and not daring to do such a bold, daring thing as taking a friend up on an offer, hadn’t asked for any yet. Hettie was positively itching to get her hands on Lucinda’s manga – “As the Otherworlds’ first magical girl, it is positively my duty!” – and Victor had some manga too. Only a few volumes... The yokai peddlers only had a small selection that passed inspection by his mother.

Lucinda sat cross-legged on the floor after taking the bag, and had plonked two of her own on the rug. They were in one of the guest parlours, little drawing rooms that were previously for nobles to sit and relax in, but were in the process of being turned into bedrooms and common rooms for the expected magical school students. This one needed very little doing at it, and had become their hangout area. There were comfy couches and a little table and trolley for drinks and snacks. Victor had brought them some tea – books weren’t the only thing he’d picked up from his brief visit home – and it was rapidly cooling as the girls were far too excited by the manga to worry about little things like staying hydrated.

“Oooh this is really rare!” Lucinda picked up one of the more battered copies with a pair of girls on the cover; one with bright pink hair, the other with an equally striking shade of purple. “It never came out in the UK at all, and in the US it was this limited run tied in to the anime they decided to air at like, 5am on a Saturday morning, so it never got a big following and never got reprinted in English. I swear sometimes they WANT shows to fail.”

“I... didn’t understand most of what you said. Sorry, it’s what?” Hettie looked up from where she was already a good chunk into volume 1 of something called Sailor Moon. “I understood ‘rare’ and then you might as well have said ‘and the hoop-de-doo sqoodled the squaddle’.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Lucinda stayed quiet for a minute before rephrasing. “They only printed a small number of these in English because the television show version of it wasn’t popular. And it was never printed in my country at all.”

“Ah.” Hettie sighed wistfully. “Oh to have print runs available. We just get whatever the yokai peddlers have with them. It’s pretty erratic. You’re lucky if you can get more than four or five volumes of a set. Sometimes they have really big sets of one thing, but they’re so expensive.”

“I guess I am pretty lucky to be able to find as much as I can,” Lucinda reflected. “They even have manga in the library.”

“You have to stop, you’re making me far too jealous!” Hettie held a hand out dramatically.

“Um,” Victor interjected. “They have m-manga in the library here, too.”

“They do?!” both girls chorused.

“A lot of it is um... e-embarrassing...” Victor had a very low tolerance for what Hettie had informed him was called ‘fanservice’ but some of the stuff he’d seen must be the sort of service where someone takes a bullet for you and then takes your would-be assassin out with them while apologising that they won’t be able to get your supper ready on time for once as they are unfortunately dying, rather inconsiderately, without two weeks’ notice.

Hettie and Lucinda looked at each other.

“I’m not about to be put off by a bit of embarrassment, are you?” Hettie asked.

“Not a chance.” Lucinda hesitated. “Well, okay. Some chance. But.” They both turned to Victor.

“Lead the way?” Hettie suggested. “Or you can just give us rough directions if you prefer.”

“I’ll c-come with you.” Victor was not about to lose out on time with Lucinda over a few drawings, no matter how embarrassing they were.

“H-here it is...” Victor waved vaguely at the two aisles.

After a few minutes of pulling out volumes at random – and hastily putting some of them back – the girls were a little deflated.

“Are they all in Japanese?” Lucinda asked. “I’m trying to learn but I can just about say what my name is, greet people and count to one hundred. I can read maybe five kanji and some katakana.”

Victor frowned. “Yes? I think. B-but...”

Hettie sighed. “That’s really too bad. Perhaps we could ask your snow woman friend to translate?”

“I don’t want to ask her to do her job for free...” Lucinda replied.

“Um.” Victor pulled the nearest volume out a little, checked it, and pulled it all the way out. He flipped to what in a Western comic would be the back. “Did you check the front? There’s a lot of translation notes and things.”

Lucinda held up a finger. “I did not.” She pulled out another manga and instead of turning to the middle she checked front and back. “Oh. It’s not the type of translation I’m used to, but this’ll work.” She put the random volume back and started searching for the first one of the series.

“It’s silly, really. I should have realised the large yokai population here would have donated something to the library,” Hettie chided herself. “I can’t believe I never looked before. There must be several doors to Japan here.”

Lucinda looked up suddenly. “I. Wow. I never thought of that. Do you think so?”

“It stands to reason?” Hettie theorised. “The queen must know a door, at least.”

“I can’t believe all this time and I never... Do you want to go to Japan?”

“What, now?” Hettie asked. “Right now?”

“It should be possible, right?” Lucinda said, eyes shining. “Although...” Her face fell. She bit the end of her thumb as she thought. “I guess it will take a long time to get into the map room, and I’m kinda broke still...” She glanced over at Victor making him jump. “It’s kinda crowded in the cities, from what I know... That wouldn’t be good... But I don’t know if it would be harder in a small place, we’d be too conspicuous...” She slouched. “I guess we can’t after all... I got myself worked up for nothing.”

“You should go to Okazaki!” came a voice from the other side of the bookcase. There were footsteps, and Will leaned into view around the end of the aisle. “It’s a city, so it’s got all the stuff you’re probably looking for, but it’s really quiet. As long as you don’t go during commuter times, you’ll practically have the pavements to yourself.”

“Okazaki?” Lucinda repeated. “Where’s that?”

“It’s near Nagoya. Aichi Prefecture.”

“I’m sorry to say that doesn't mean anything to me,” Lucinda admitted, rubbing the back of her head. “We’d still need a door map though, and, well, a bunch of stuff. I don’t have any yen, for a start.”

Will waved a hand . “You don’t need to worry about any of that,” he said. “Wait here.”

The three of them exchanged a look. Lucinda and Hettie browsed the manga while they waited, pulling out the odd volume and looking back and forth between the translations and the pages. It was pretty difficult. They weren’t intended to be read in the aisle. Victor had borrowed a few of them and you needed a desk to spread them out on.

It wasn’t long before Will returned, holding an envelope and a piece of white paper, with a much folded look about it. Paper, not parchment.

“Here you go!” He beamed. “Just make sure you go when it’s not right before or after school, and you should be fine.” Lucinda unfolded the paper and all three of them peered at it.

“Door locations?” Hettie asked.

“I came via Okazaki to Fairyland,” Will explained. “I needed to make sure I had an escape route if something went wrong, but the doors you want are this one and this one.” He pointed at the one in the top right and the middle bottom. “Oh, and here.” He presented Lucinda with the envelope, holding the shortest end with a thumb on each corner.

Lucinda opened it. She gasped. “Does that say... ten thousand? Ten thousand yen?! And what’s this?” A large feather slid out with the bank note.

“It’s a feather. You’ll need it to get back here, so don’t lose it.” He pulled out a pencil from a pocket. “I’ll just make you some notes. You need to write the kanji for ‘gate’ in the air to open the return door.” He wrote the kanji next to the door. “It’s pretty easy. Oh and if you do lose the feather or something, THIS door here leads back to Stratford-upon-Avon. It’s quite a walk, to the door and from the door, like, maybe a full day of walking, but if you can’t get back here it’s the best option. I’ll give you my parents’ address. My mom is an Otherworlder, she can help you get home.” He scribbled the address on the back. “Oh and if things are bad in Okazaki for some reason... You can’t get the door to work or any other trouble, you go here.” He drew a star on the map. “Ask for Asakura Miho. She's the local Otherworlder concierge.”

“This... This is a lot of money isn’t it?” Lucinda asked.

“Not loads.” Will shook his head. “Only about £40.”

“Only?” Lucinda spluttered. “I can’t take this!”

“Sure you can!” Will grinned. “Look, you’ve brought me at least that amount in retail value of books, if not in second hand value. I was wondering how best to repay you for it.”

“But... ... I mean...” Lucinda hesitated. She stared long and hard at the note. Finally she said, “If it’s really okay... You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Positive.”

“Okay... Uh...” She looked round at the other two. “Who’s ready to go to Japan, I guess?”

The three of them made their way to the entry door. It was in the Northern Quarter of the capital; a gathering place for yokai.

“It should be... here!” Lucinda pushed on a patch of air and a slit appeared; a slice of blue sky and a rice paddy hung in the air, contrasting heavily with the brown walls of the tavern behind it. Lucinda let it close. Then she checked her phone. “It’s... about 9:10 in the morning. Will said avoid commuter times.” She bit her lip. “I think we should wait a bit longer to be safe.” She drummed her fingers on her arm. “I feel like I’ve forgotten something...”

“You waiting for the Okazaki door, kids?” a voice addressed them from above.

They looked up to see a yokai woman leaning out of the second story window. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips pouting.

“Yes?” Lucinda replied. “We were told to wait until the morning commute was over. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. It’s just... You’re going... like that?”

The parental tone and question was familiar to Victor as of late - his mother did not appreciate his change in wardrobe from the expected vampire evening dress to the everyday fairy tunics. The three of them looked down at themselves then at each other.

“Oh. Oh, I see what you mean,” Lucinda admitted. “We look like we’re going to a convention.” Lucinda had come straight from work and was in her prince outfit, Hettie was wearing one of her tea gowns and Victor was in a blue tunic and pants, tied at the ankle. “Not good for blending in.”

“L-let’s go change?” Victor suggested. “There’s p-plenty of time.”

“I’m not sure I have anything suitable...” Hettie said.

“D-don’t worry, Molly showed me where the clothes a-are for the f-fools, w-we can find something in there.”

“I think I still have some stuff from when I stayed here before,” Lucinda said. “I’ll check my old room while you do that.”

There were a few trunks of spare clothes in the servants’ quarters, mainly intended for fools but really for anyone who wanted them. Fairyland worked on a bartering system, so labour in the palace was exchanged for food, accommodation or occasionally other goods.

“Does this suit me? I think it’s a little big but beggars can’t be choosers...” She had found a wine red jumper; it was a solid colour with long sleeves that hung over the edge of her fingers. She pulled them back over her wrists, using a ribbon on the edges to tighten them.

Victor nodded. “I-it looks very nice. W-will these trousers fit you, d-do you think?” Hettie had also found a blue skirt, but it was a glaring mismatch, in both style and colour.

“Trousers?” Hettie took them uncertainly. “I, I really don’t know, I’ve never worn any before.”

“M-Miss Lucinda is often wearing them, e-even when she isn’t dressed for work,” Victor pointed out.

“Yes, must be nice not to have to worry about changing to come here,” Hettie observed. “Then again, I didn’t have to change when I visited her house. We pretended I worked for Rent-A-Legend too, which come to think of it, I actually did.”

“I’m a l-little jealous that y-you got to see Miss Lucinda’s house,” Victor admitted. He stopped short of asking what her room was like. That felt like spying, somehow.

“It was fun, Earth technology is incredible, a magic of its own... though it was incredibly nerve wracking... I had to keep Lucinda’s identity secret from her parents.” Hettie took the trousers and he turned away so she could change. “I doubt it will be as difficult out and about in a town setting.”

“W-were her parents nice?” Victor asked.

“I only spoke briefly to her mother to introduce myself, but she seemed nice,” Hettie replied. “You can turn around now. How do I look?”

“L-like you’re from Earth,” Victor replied. There were less options for him. Most of the clothing was dresses, or way too big for him. Maybe he would have to make do with his old clothes. He understood they were very old fashioned on Earth, but without his cravat and cape, he would at least look like an Earthling, if a slightly overdressed one.

“Any luck?” Hettie asked.

“No. I’ll h-have to wear my old clothes.” Victor pouted. “I sh-should get some Earth clothes s-sometime. B-but I d-don’t know how I’m going to. They’re s-so expensive a-and the peddlers never h-have anything my size.”

“Perhaps you can ask Lucinda for help?” Hettie suggested.

Victor shook his head. “I c-couldn’t do that.”

Hettie tilted her head to one side. “Whyever not?”

“I j-just... H-help how?”

“So you just automatically answered ‘I can’t’ without even thinking about it?”

“W-well, it j-just seems too imposing t-to ask for help,” Victor tried. “... What do you mean?”

“She literally lives there?” Hettie pointed out. “She offered to bring you books? It shouldn’t be that big a step up to help find some clothes. Maybe she knows some place you can get some cheap? Or she can ask Sara? You really won’t know unless you ask her.”

“B-but clothes are s-so c-complicated!” he protested.

“I don’t think they’re as complicated on Earth,” Hettie said. “Like I say, you won’t know if you don’t ask. Besides, Lucinda is your friend. I wish I could prove it to you that asking her for help isn’t a big deal.”

“N-no, i-it seems like t-too much...” He shook his head.

“Victor...” Her brow furrowed slightly, and Victor steeled himself for a lecture. She stared at him for a long moment before giving a short sigh. “Well, I for one plan to ask Sara where she gets her Earth clothes, so if find out anything useful I shall pass it along. I’m ready, so shall I wait for you here or at the gate?”

“Th-the gate,” Victor answered, relieved. “Please apologise t-to Miss Lucinda for me.”

When he had changed into his old things, he found one of the glassless windows that lined the upper corridors and launched himself out of it, becoming a bat in mid-air. He didn’t much like being a bat, but it would be faster than walking down and he didn’t want to make Lucinda wait any longer than he already had. He made a mental note to learn a new animal transformation spell as soon as possible. He had learned how to become a bat at about age seven, normally a little early for even a vampire to start learning magic, but the death of his father at the hands of a mob when he was six had made his mother keen to get him learning escape spells as soon as possible. He could also turn into mist. That wasn’t much fun either. The only real upside was that you were pretty much impossible to kill. Stay that way too long though, and you’d find your mind starting to dissipate too. It was like being in a dream. You had to force yourself awake again.

“H-here I am!” Victor said, turning back a little way above the ground and landing on his feet. “S-sorry for making you w-wait.”

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Lucinda reassured him. “And it’s definitely not commuting time now.”

“I was just telling Lucinda how difficult it was finding Earthling clothes for you,” Hettie said. “She says you can probably have a look in Okazaki.”

“It’ll be interesting to see what second-hand clothes they have in Japan,” Lucinda remarked, smiling at him. “I’m not expecting to find a shop full of kimonos or anything but there’s got to be some cool stuff, right?”

“O-oh. Um, r-right. Yes.” Victor shot his cousin A Look, but she just made a half shrug and a smirk that said ‘See?’.

It was impossible to be mad that she was correct about just asking, or as it seemed, just mentioning, and he spent the walk back to the Northern Quarter wondering what sort of clothes they would have and how they fit without a tailor. He was aware that they didn’t usually have tailors any more. They bought things ‘off the rack’. Maybe they bought everything a size too big and sewed it to fit themselves?

When they got to the door, they found the yokai woman from the tavern waiting there. She had it open the tiniest possible amount, sticking a fingernail in it to keep it from closing. She looked round as they approached.

“Much better.” She nodded approvingly. “I’m just waiting for my partner Mitsuki to get back with supplies. You go ahead... if you’re ready?”

“I think we are.” Lucinda hesitated. “Um. Do you have any other advice?” she asked as she tentatively put a hand on the door. “It’s our first time in Japan.”

“Don’t talk loudly in public, the doors SLIDE, do NOT cross the street when it’s red, you’re expected to pack your own shopping bags at the supermarket AWAY from the cashier, get a little hand towel each for public bathrooms - I recommend Daiso for that – don’t hand money to anyone directly, it’s bad luck, that’s what the little trays are for, oh and I hope you kids like mayonnaise because we put mayonnaise on everything.” The woman thought for a moment longer. “You know a return door, right? From your lack of luggage, I assume this is a day trip?”

Lucinda nodded. “We have a few options.”

“You got a feather?”

“Yes, we have a feather,” Lucinda reassured her.

“And you know the rules for going to and from Earth? It’s not like the other Otherworlds, you know that, right?”

“I’m from Earth, yes,” Lucinda replied.

“Oh. You’re more prepared than you looked.”

“I was just a bit overexcited and I tend to forget what I’m wearing,” Lucinda admitted.

“Off you go then,” the woman said. “Have fun. Try some dango.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Lucinda had just put her hand flat on the door when Hettie piped up suddenly;

“I completely forgot! I have a thing with Lolotte today!”

“You do?”

“Yes, I shall have to go immediately,” she announced. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Oh.” Lucinda took her hand off the door and turned round. “Oh, that’s too bad. We can go another day, then? Lolotte can always come with us?”

“No, no, I won’t hear of it!” Hettie protested, bodily turning Lucinda back to the door. “You and Victor go ahead! You went to the trouble of getting changed and everything. You can go and find all the fun places and show me next time. You’ll have more money between you, too.”

“I guess but... are you really sure? I do want to go but-“

“Then go.” She gave them both a bright smile. “You’ll be more inconspicuous without me, anyway. Much better for a first visit. Can’t be too careful.”

“But-“

“Must dash! See you later!” She gave them a little wave before turning into a panther and bounding away.

“Well... I guess we’re going then.” Lucinda scratched her head before smiling apologetically at the yokai woman. “If that’s okay? With just me?” She addressed this to Victor. Who almost didn’t hear her over the internal screaming.

“Th-that’s fine,” he replied, a little shocked to find he meant it.

Yes, he reassured himself. Fine. He was alone with Lucinda. Not a problem. It had ended horribly the last time, but fine. So it was his first visit to Earth. And not a ‘Western’ culture like he was used to at home. So he didn’t speak the local language. So what if he couldn’t use magic there. So what if there were humans all over the place?

“Okay. Just stick close to me and if it’s too busy we’ll turn back, all right?” Lucinda offered. “Will said it would be quiet, so I guess we’ll just see. I’m... a little bit scared, but at least I won’t be alone. I mean, I’ll still go alone, if you change your mind. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve been doing this for two years. I’ve been to scarier places than Japan, that’s for sure. The crime rate’s supposed to be really low. And there’s zero dragons.”

Victor considered this. They were stood in what was a foreign country to both of them right now. In Fairyland it was allowed to eat people who didn’t have a resident’s permit and there were at least two species of flower that killed you if you looked at them funny. And while he’d managed to shake off most of what he’d realised were his mother’s prejudices about humans, he was still nervous around strangers. To be fair, he was also nervous around any type of people, most animals, quite a lot of plants and the occasional rock. But objectively Japan was not scary.

“I-I’ll tell you i-if it’s too much,” he said. Oddly, it helped to know Lucinda was also a little scared. And that he was helping. He’d never helped someone else to not be scared before.

“Let’s go then.”

The yokai woman opened the door, looked around quickly, and tilted her head to indicate that they should indeed go. As they stepped through, a tanuki slipped past them the other way. They turned in surprise to see the tanuki take a human form, peering at them curiously as the door closed.

“Just some otaku kids-” they heard before the sound was cut off.

Victor looked around. He’d thought they were in the countryside but the rice paddy they’d seen through the door was next to a building... A few buildings. There was a row of houses behind them. A narrow, concrete road was painted with white stripes to serve as the pavement edge and some letters he couldn’t read.

“Oh. Uh. Wow. We’re actually really here.” Lucinda looked around at the scenery, shading her eyes from the sun. Though, the sun was nothing compared to her smile. She beamed at the scenery like it was a long lost treasure. She bounced on her heels with her hands clenched. “What should we do first? Oof, it is warm.” It really was very warm, much like Fairyland. His shirt probably wasn’t the most appropriate for the heat, but at least it would protect his skin from the sun. “Glad I put on sun cream already for Fairyland.” Lucinda fanned herself with a hand. “Do you need sun cream?”

“Sun cream?” Victor asked.

“To protect you from sunburn? Do fairies have a potion for that instead, maybe?”

“I d-did... b-but this morning.” It was late afternoon in Fairyland.

“We’d better get some then.” She tutted to herself. “I am not, in fact, well prepared at all.” He expected her to be annoyed, but she laughed. Still with a smile a mile wide she continued, “We need to break this note anyway. What did she say... Mini hand towel...for bathrooms... Ah, where did she say would be good for that?”

“D-Daiso,” Victor said.

“Great. Thanks!” Lucinda pulled out her phone. She’d brought a small bag. It was a croqueted tote; pale green with a white flower. It went well with her outfit; a pink frilly top and long white skirt. “Let’s see... Daiso...” She tapped her foot for a minute while she waited for something. Her smile finally turned to a frown. “Data is HOW MUCH per megabyte?! Someone’s having a laugh. All the way to the bank.” She shrugged and her smile returned. “Ah well. Not like I use my data for much since I’ve no signal half the time. Ooh, there’s a Daiso really close! Basically straight up this road! This way.”

“A m-map on your phone?” Victor queried.

“Yeah, it connects to a thingy in space or something,” Lucinda explained. “Oh, if you need to translate something, it can do that too. Not WELL, but enough that we should get by.”

“H-how is your phone N-NOT magic, again?” Victor asked, staring at it. It could show pictures, moving images, play music, he’d seen her use it to do maths and he knew there was a library in there too. Multiple libraries, from what he could gather. And yet Earthlings would be amazed he could turn into a bat.

“Honestly can’t argue,” Lucinda admitted.

As they walked, he thought again about the bat thing. “Um, M-Miss Lucinda, if you could turn into a-any animal, what w-would you choose?”

“Good question.” Lucinda stopped as she thought. Someone on a bike rode past them. Victor didn’t have time to react. They were already long gone even as he registered the intrusion. As he looked behind him to see where they went, he realised the jester had been right; the street was deserted. It was a tiny side road, that he could see, but this was much better than he had hoped. “I don’t know.” Lucinda’s reply startled him out of his observations.

“You don’t?”

“I’m not sure I’d want to turn into an animal at all,” she said. As he drew breath to question her further, she gasped, “Oh look, it’s right there! Right across the road!”

“O-oh. Th-that’s what she meant by ‘d-don’t cross when it’s red’,” Victor observed.

“Yeah. We call that the ‘green man’ in the UK. Interesting cultural difference,”-she held up a finger-“here they say ‘it’s blue’ instead of green.”

“The G-Green Man?” Victor raised an eyebrow. “L-like the forest spirit?”

“Oh. Oh yeah. I... think I’ve heard of that. Not the same guy, from what I know. Incidentally... It’s blue.” As they crossed she added, “And where I’d say ‘your face has gone white’ they say ‘your face is dark blue’.”

“Interesting... Wh-where did you l-learn that?”

“I’m not sure.” Lucinda cupped her chin. “Probably from manga translation notes or possibly from a research rabbit hole on the internet.”

They stopped at the edge of a large concrete area in front of the store. It had a few cars on it, with lines indicating where they should stop. He’d never seen a car before, but was vaguely aware they could kill you or explode. Luckily there were only two, and both were on the same side of the car area. They could see quite well into the store via the glass panelling all along the front. It wasn’t busy. There were four or five people in there he could see, all spread out.

“Do you want to come in with me or wait here?” Lucinda asked.

“I’ll... I’ll c-come in,” he decided, steeling himself. Even though they were at a BIG crossroads, bigger than any he’d ever seen, it was still almost devoid of people. Despite the size, it was still quieter than the Dark Capital’s streets. Logically, it was silly not to go in.

“Okay.” Lucinda led the way. He froze momentarily when the doors opened BY THEMSELVES at which Lucinda didn’t so much as blink. More Earthling ‘science’. “Oh no,” she almost whispered. He stopped again. “Everything. Is so. CUTE.”

“I-is that bad?” Victor’s voice quavered. Cute was not a quality he had hitherto associated with the phrase “oh no”.

“It is bad,” Lucinda replied solemnly, “because I want to buy it all.”

He relaxed somewhat. “What were we l-looking for again? H-hand towels?”

“Oh. Yes.” Lucinda snapped her fingers. “And sun cream. I’ll look up the word for sun cream while I remember.”

Heart pounding, Victor followed her along the shelves. He barely noticed the goods at first, instead keeping a surreptitious eye on the other customers and the shopkeepers. But he gradually came to the realisation... they weren’t paying him any attention at all. The shopkeepers would glance in his direction, smile and say a greeting. But then carry on with their work. He was completely unremarkable, apparently. It was liberating.

After a little while of browsing around the shelves which contained the wildest assortment of goods Victor could never have imagined existed, Lucinda stopped and took a very deliberate breath.

“Okay I have to make a rule for myself here,” she said. “This is the first shop we’ve been in and there is already so much cool stuff. I have to wait until we’ve had a proper look around. Comic Con rules.” She thought for a moment. “Um. Not that I’ll stop you from buying stuff you want.” She paused again. “I know Hettie said to spend the money on ourselves but I think we should save her some of it anyway. Let’s say... 2000 yen each? And we’ll try to save the rest. I know Will said we can just spend it but... I just wouldn’t feel right.”

“Y-you really d-don’t need to worry about me,” Victor protested.

“Don’t be silly,” she chided. “At the very least you need some food and drink. Speaking of, I know I said I’d wait to buy things but I have spotted some sweets I DEFINITELY want. They’re technically food. And is that an ice cream freezer I can see?”

“Ice cream w-would be nice,” he admitted. It was far too hot to say no to something as nice, luxurious and above all cold, as ice cream.

“Lemme just...” Lucinda checked something on her phone again and made a low whistle. “Wow, okay that is cheap. Is this a Japanese pound store??” They couldn’t read everything but the flavours were obvious enough and some were also written in English.

“I-I’ll have the earl g-grey one,” he said. “I-if you’re really sure.”

“Good choice. I’m super tempted by that one too but I think I’ll try the ice cream mochi.” She took one of each out of the cold box and looked around. “Oh. Self-checkout. I have never been so glad to see one before. I was working myself up about having to talk to the cashier for nothing.” She approached some boxes with words displayed on a screen. It was almost like a big version of her phone, he noticed. “Oh and there’s an English option, even.”

“Wh-what does ‘w-working yourself up’ mean?” he asked.

“That I was making myself really stressed,” Lucinda replied.

“You w-were stressed??” He hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah, to be honest I was dawdling a bit because I was stressing about having to talk to the cashier,” she admitted. “Sorry. I’ll try not to. I’m going to have to talk to at least one cashier today I’m sure.”

“D-don’t apologise...”

They took their ice creams just outside and ate them right away. There were a couple of big boxes out here too, that also looked like the cold boxes he’d seen inside. They had rows and rows of... something?

“Oh right, I forgot to get a drink.” Lucinda eyed the nearest one. “Is that... tea? COLD milk tea? That’s ... different. Though I suppose you get iced tea without milk AND iced coffee however. I’m gonna try it. We have change now.” She selected an option. Something clanged in a compartment below the rows of drinks and she reached through a flap and took out a can. “Hey, this is hot?! What the heck??” She studied the rows again. “Oh. OH. This one with the red must be hot and... the blue ones are cold? How the heck do they do that??” So there WAS some Earthling science she was baffled by. She turned from the machine and wiggled the can at him. “Want one? They’re pretty cheap.”

“Y-yes please.” While he still felt he was imposing, she was right that he couldn’t go all day without anything to eat or drink. Technically he had had lunch... back in Fairyland, some hours ago. And he was thirsty.

“This is very sweet,” Lucinda remarked, after taking a swig. “I think I like it.”

Victor tried his. “Y-yes, very.” He couldn’t decide if he liked it or not. Sweet things were a luxury at home, and carefully rationed, as he mustn’t damage his teeth. Come to think of it... she had said drinks were okay, and it WAS important. “C-can I also um, g-get some water?”

“Sure.” She double-checked something on her phone before making a selection. “Yep. Should be water.”

“Th-thank you.” Once he’d finished the tea and ice cream, he took a good few mouthfuls of water, swishing it around a bit. Seeing Lucinda looking at him curiously he said. “U-um. For-” He opened his mouth a little and pointed to his fangs.

“Oh. Yeah. Too much sugar would really mess you up, huh?” She tapped her own teeth thoughtfully. “I’ll keep that in mind. Want me to carry that?” She indicated the water bottle.

“Um. Please. Th-thank you.” Was Hettie right? Was it really this easy?

“We should look for where we can buy clothes next, I guess. Oh and sun cream. Here’s the sun cream.” She handed over a small bottle. “Uh-”-she lunged forward and grabbed his arm-“-you don’t drink it. You rub it on your skin. Just where the skin is showing.”

He lowered the bottle, feeling his face colour and wordlessly opened the top, looking down to avoid her gaze. He squeezed some out and rubbed it on his face.

“You need a mirror?” Lucinda tapped her phone and turned it to face him. He jumped, seeing his face on the screen. “There’s a camera on it,” she explained. “Two cameras, actually.”

“Is there anything it doesn’t do?” he said, mystified, forgetting his embarrassment.

“Lots of things but admittedly none I can think of right now,” Lucinda replied. “Right. Clothes,” she said when he’d finished. “There’s a place right up the street. Book-Off? Sounds like a weird name to pick if you sell clothes.”

It was a straight walk up the very big street. It was so big there were trees and sculpted bushes between the pavement and the road, as well as a line specifically for the bicycles. Yet there were still hardly any pedestrians. The occasional bike whizzed past. They still made him jump, but he was finding himself less bothered about any of the humans around. It helped that this place was like nothing he’d ever seen. Some of the buildings were huge. Not just big, like his grandmother’s mansion, but wide AND tall. Incredibly tall. Fairyland trees tall. Maybe taller.

“This is... a supermarket?” Lucinda frowned. “Where is the clothing place?”

“I-is it up there?” Victor pointed to a strange, moving metal stairway.

“Well spotted.” She moved towards it and looked up. “Looks like there’s more floors too. Shall we go up?”

Victor nodded. He watched her as she stepped onto the moving stairs, then copied her. There was a handrail to hold; it moved at the same rate as the stairs. Earthlings had thought of everything. His fingers stiffened on the rail as they neared the top – how did you get off? What if he didn’t do it right? Lucinda merely stepped off at the top. He wobbled a little and half-jumped off, as his toe bumped the metal barrier at the top. He straightened up immediately and spun around, backing away. When they didn’t explode, stop or otherwise herald disaster, he turned away and looked around. The floor below had been filled with food from what little he saw, but this one was full of clothes, tableware and a lot of stuff he could only categorise as ‘Earth things’. There was a floor above them that seemed to be full of books. Lucinda noticed it too.

“First we’ll look on this floor, then we’ll go up and look at the manga and DVDs and stuff then we’ll go get some dinner from the supermarket,” Lucinda suggested. “Sound good?”

Victor gave a nod. “I d-don’t r-really mind what we do.” He really didn’t. This was a good place for his first ever Earth visit, he realised; everything was as fascinating to Lucinda as it was to him.

“Wow, there really are kimonos here!” she pointed to a section full of robes and wraps. “Or maybe they’re yukata. I’m not confident I can tell. Ooh and are those bowls and things? I am definitely getting a bowl or a cup or something.”

They browsed for a while. Victor tried to keep Lucinda in his eye line, but it was difficult as the clothes were organised by type. He didn’t want to bother her, but became quickly apparent that he needed some help.

“U-um... H-how do I know i-if the clothes will fit?” he asked.

She put a finger to her lips for a minute. “I never thought of that. Clothing sizes are different in different countries, so I guess I’m not sure what size fits me, either. Um... If I can figure out what size you are in UK sizes, I can probably convert it to a Japanese size.” She got out her phone again. “You’re roughly my size, and I’m a size twelve, sometimes a ten, probably need to go with a twelve or maybe even a fourteen to be safe. It’s easier to make a garment smaller than it is to make it bigger.” She tapped on her phone for another minute, her face a mask of concentration. “We’re looking for size 11 or 13, or just M for medium. You find it on the clothing tag, here.” She pulled up a little white label on the neckline of a nearby shirt. “Do you want me to help you look, or...?”

“N-no,” he said quickly. “I-I should be able t-to look by myself now.” He didn’t want to take up more of Lucinda’s time than necessary.

“Okay.” She gave him a thumbs up. “You want me to give you your share of the money or you want us to go to the counter together when you’re done on this floor? I wouldn’t say I speak Japanese, but I can at least count and I have my phone if it gets more complicated.”

“T-together, please,” he said, cursing inwardly that he’d be holding her up after all.

He browsed the clothing as quickly as he could manage. He had no idea what he was looking for, exactly. He stiffened up every time someone else appeared in the aisle, far more on edge now Lucinda wasn’t with him. He tried to focus. Think. What did he actually need. The plain, black trousers he was wearing were fine apparently, but his white shirt was too formal. A shirt, then. He should try to find a casual shirt.

He was absorbed in the task when he noticed a boy a little further down the aisle, about his own age. He hadn’t seen him approach.

‘Don’t panic,’ he thought to himself. ‘He won’t even look at you.’

The boy looked at him. And Victor had been looking at the boy. He’d seen him looking! Victor seized up. The boy’s eyes flicked to Victor’s hair. He’d forgotten about his hair. It was short and black, but with a thick, white streak in his fringe and around the nape of his neck up to his ears. In the Otherworlds, it was now a known sign of vampirism.

The boy gave him a smile. “It’s very cool!” he said in a thick accent, fingers brushing his own bangs.

“Th-thank you?” Victor replied.

The boy smiled a little wider. Then he looked away, and continued browsing.

Victor hurriedly looked away too, feeling his face redden. It would probably look bad to run away. He fought his every instinct, forcing each and every nerve to stay rooted to the spot. After a few heart pounding minutes that felt like hours, the boy left the aisle. Victor sagged in relief before nearly launching himself into the air when he felt someone come up behind him.

“I found this super cute dress, but there’s no way it’ll fit me,” Lucinda lamented. “It’s so unfair. I think I’ll get it for Erlina, though. Think Hettie would like this cup?”

Getting his breathing back under control, Victor nodded mutely. It was a pretty cup. It was pale blue with pink flowers. Lucinda was also carrying a bowl with a similar design, a spoon shaped like a mermaid and two pieces of clothing. One was the aforementioned dress, the other was a mauve and beige shirt with some writing on it.

“I'm shamelessly breaking my 'look around first' rule. How's it going?" She lowered her voice. “Hey, did you see that guy who was just here? He looked so cool!”

Victor tried hard to remember what the boy had actually looked like. Black, short hair, but with blond tips, and he was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and ripped jeans. He’d been wearing studded bracelets, a mixture of black and bright neon colours. “H-he spoke to me,” Victor said. “H-he said my hair w-was cool.”

“I just realised that in an Earth context, your hair looks like a fashion statement,” Lucinda observed. “I bet it would dye bright colours really easily, too.”

“Y-you can dye h-hair bright colours?” Victor asked.

“Yeah. Or pastel. Blonde. Whatever, really.” Lucinda took in his empty hands. “No luck?”

“N-not really,” he admitted.

“Do you want some help?” she asked. “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can look too.”

“I’d l-like a shirt,” he said. “D-do you think m-maybe... s-something like that boy was wearing? But, n-not black. A-and with sleeves?”

“Gotcha.”

In the end they left with a n orangey-brown hoody-like shirt with colourful gashes in the sleeves, and some soundtrack CDs from the third floor, which Lucinda nearly fainted at, and which she’d talked about at length in a squeaky, high pitched voice that he’d probably have been able to hear better as a bat. Then they’d walked around the huge food market on the ground floor, picked out some dinner – technically supper – and now they were sat on some benches a street or two away eating some dango. It was sweet rice paste formed into balls, covered in a sweet, brown syrup. He had opted for a colourful version with no syrup; the balls were white, pink and green.

“These are so good,” Lucinda waved an empty skewer in the air. “Why don’t they make these in England? I wonder if I can make them myself...”

“These a-are also very nice,” Victor said. He yawned. It was getting pretty late in Fairyland.

“You know, I realised I only gave you half an answer before, and then I never heard your answer,” she said suddenly. “You asked me what animal I’d want to be,” she clarified, seeing his confusion.

“I-I asked because I d-don’t know,” he said.

Now it was her turn to look baffled. “What do you mean?”

“I d-don’t like being a bat,” he admitted, wrinkling his nose. “I w-want to learn a d-different spell, but I d-don’t have any ideas.”

“I imagine it is kind of a pain,” she sympathised. “Especially in the day. But I don’t know that much about bats. They’re cute and misunderstood, they have echo location, and that’s it, that’s all I know.”

“I l-like bats,” he pointed out, “I j-just don’t want to b-be one.”

“An owl, maybe?” Lucinda suggested. “Wait, no, same problem, nocturnal... Umm... Flying squirrel? Though, I guess you’d prefer something that can actually fly, not just glide... Hmm.”

“Wh-what about you, though?”

“Me? I’m happy staying the shape I am.” She leaned a hand on her cheek. “I wish I was a bit prettier... I guess who doesn’t...”

“Y-you’re pretty!” he protested.

“O-oh? Thanks.” She hunched her shoulders and smiled awkwardly. “I mean, it’s not like I think I’m ugly it’s just...” She dropped her shoulders again and looked away. “I don’t get to feel pretty a lot? I’m a prince for my job and my school uniform isn’t exactly flattering... So that’s at least 90% of the time I’m not dressed how I want. I suppose I’m done with high school really soon so that’s goodbye to the uniform at least.”

“D-do you not l-like working as a prince?” Victor asked.

“It’s not that,” Lucinda replied. “It’s just... tiring to pretend you’re a gender you’re not? I mean I don’t have to do a lot - Otherworlders just see the outfit and think ‘That’s a boy’. It’s both really useful and incredibly irritating at the same time. I don’t know if I’m making any sense.”

“I th-think I understand,” Victor replied. “I-I w-want new c-clothes because I d-don’t want people to l-look at me and just s-see ‘vampire’.”

“Do you... is it hard on you, being a vampire?” she asked.

“I d-don’t know, i-it’s inconvenient,” he replied, “b-but i-it’s n-not that I’m a vampire, i-it’s that I didn’t kn-know I was allowed to be a-anything else.”

“Yeah, it’s ... a whole thing, finding out something like that.” She flung a hand out in front of her. “It’s like, ‘You mean THIS was an option this whole time?!’ and it’s both annoying and great.” She laughed. “It’s better late than never though, right?”

He smiled to himself. “Y-yes...”

Lucinda rubbed her eyes. “Speaking of late... it’s something like 4am back home, and it's pretty late in Fairyland too.” She yawned. “I know we’ve only really been to two shops and a supermarket, but maybe we should head back? It’s up to you though. I can easily stay up longer.”

“W-we should head back,” Victor agreed. He was tired, and he was starting to suspect it wasn’t just the time since he’d last slept.

They got up, put their rubbish in the correct bin – there were several – and starting walking back. They’d been walking for just a few minutes when they were blindsided by a car. Lucinda jumped back. She hadn’t seen the crossing light - which was red - or the vehicle. There was a tiny side road with a wall blocking the view of anything but the main street. You couldn’t see the side street until you were practically on it.

“G-gomen nasai!” she said, bowing an apology. The driver didn’t look impressed; they were frowning hard. Lucinda shuffled back a good way from the road edge.

Victor, who had taken off as a bat in his panic, clung to the wall. It took Lucinda a minute to understand what had happened and spot him. She held a hand over her heart and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay?” she asked. They were now on opposite sides of the little road, but she didn’t try to cross.

“I-I think so,” he replied. “Th-that w-was close.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see that road AT ALL.” Lucinda made a face at the crossing light. She looked all around them and down the offending side street again. “It’s clear. No-one’s looking.”

“R-right.” He climbed around the corner anyway, just in case. And then...

“Do you want me to help block you from view?” she offered.

“Um.” He hung there for a minute. “Um... M-Miss Lucinda...”

“Yeah?”

“I c-can’t change back.” His voice sounded as small as he was.

She frowned and finally crossed the road, standing on the corner of the main street. “What was that?”

“I... I c-can’t change back.”

“Has that ever happened before?”

“N-no. N-not... to me.”

Her expression changed to match his own growing horror. “Lamprey...” Eyes wide, she bit her knuckles while she thought. “Did they ever... Couldn’t the fairies fix it? Or a witch?”

“It d-doesn’t w-work,” he answered, struggling to keep a grip on the stone as his whole body was trembling. “Th-they t-tried, b-but you end up w-with a regular h-human who still n-needs blood. B-but with a body th-that c-can’t handle it. I-it w-was worse a-and he w-would have died f-from n-no blood.” His grip slipped and he slid a few inches down the wall.

“Um. Do you want to...?” Lucinda held out a hand. He hesitated, before climbing on. She held her arms together a little away from her torso. “You know, one of the reasons I couldn’t answer you before about the animal thing... When I was turned into a raven that one time, it was really freaky how everyone else was suddenly a giant. So um, let me know if I’m being scary.”

“I-I’m u-used to it...” He glanced up at her before looking quickly back down. Her face was a mask of concentration.

“Didn’t Lamprey fall asleep as a bat or stay too long as a bat or something?” she asked. “I don’t remember the details but I know that he couldn’t turn back because he didn’t have enough magic. And he couldn’t drink enough blood to get enough magic to ever turn back because bats are too small.”

“Y-yes, that’s wh-what happened,” Victor confirmed.

“So... Um, so...” she began hesitantly, “since you only just turned into a bat, wouldn’t it work if you... drank blood, like, right now?”

“M-maybe, b-but... I c-can’t j-just... Who would...” Realisation dawned and he glanced up again.

“You could... drink... mine?” her voice cracked. “Wow, those words really just came out of my mouth. But there’s not a lot of options.”

“B-but-” Oh good. Now he had two different kinds of nightmare scenario to deal with at once, AND memories of The Incident were flooding back. His claws reflexively tensed, and he remembered that was flesh he was gripping, and forced himself to just flop. “B-but-” he tried again.

“I don’t think we’ve got time to argue,” Lucinda pointed out. “It’s at least thirty minutes walk to the return door, then a few hours from the return door to the palace.” She made sure no-one was looking, then ducked into the narrow side road, heading uphill. “Just need to find somewhere less exposed...”

“B-but-” He had absolutely no arguments to counter with.

“Look,” she continued as she powerwalked up the street, “I know I said don’t ask me for blood, and you didn’t, I offered. And, yeah, I’m uncomfortable and slightly terrified but you were literally just talking about how you don’t like being a bat and if I don’t do something you might be stuck as a bat forever and I’m a prince and rescuing people is my job and it doesn’t matter if I’m on Earth or I’m not getting paid, because you don’t get to choose who needs rescuing-”

“I d-don’t-”

“-so we’re both just going to have to speedrun facing our demons. Here should do.” She stopped in another side street, and leaned against a wall breathing hard. “Look, it’s not like that time with the potion. Just. Just go ahead? I promise it’s fine.” She hesitated. “Well all right, not fine, but as fine as I’m going to get. And we might have taken too long already.”

Unable to answer with any suitable words, Victor turned his attention to Lucinda’s arm. This was going to be a lot harder as a bat. And it was going to hurt. Human skin offered zero resistance to vampire fangs, but bat teeth weren’t anywhere near as sharp. He wasn’t even a vampire bat. Still, they weren’t herbivore teeth. He tentatively nipped near a vein. He felt Lucinda wince; she didn’t say anything, but she gave him a thumbs up with her other hand. He tried again, hearing a hiss from Lucinda, but he’d drawn blood. And still the inconvenience of being a bat wasn’t over, because he couldn’t cover the wound and suck. Bats lapped. He tried to avoid the actual cut, merely licking at the trickle of blood. He’d have to try and drink as much as he could stand; constantly stopping and failing to transform would only drain even more magic and draw this ordeal out. Determined not to look at Lucinda until he was done and frankly, possibly never again, ever, he focused on the blood. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t drink any more – he was a pretty small bat – and without thinking, tried to transform. The two of them toppled over, the sudden weight of a human on the girl’s arms not being conducive to good balance, and they ended up in a heap on the floor.

“It worked!” Lucinda beamed at him before extracting her arms from under him and pushing herself away.

Victor’s body was screaming at him. He was bruised and aching from the fall, he’d been up for nearly twenty four hours now and above all, he was thirsty. “C-can I-” He bit the question back.

Lucinda rubbed her wrist near the cut. “Do you... n-need more...?”

He gave a single nod.

Lucinda held out the still dripping arm shakily. “Well, I’m... already bleeding s-so...”

Victor shook his head furiously.

Lucinda started laughing.

He looked up in alarm.

She pushed herself up off her knees and into a sitting position, still laughing. “We are the worst two people for this activity.”

“Wh-why are you laughing?”

“I dunno, just, there couldn’t be any two worse people to have been put into this situation,” she remarked. “Well... maybe Sara,” she admitted after a moment’s thought. “Probably, no, definitely Sara.”

“A-are you okay...?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Erlina fainted from not having enough magic in Bad Schwartz and that’s an area that actually has magic. Earth has barely any. I wouldn’t be able to carry you back to the door if you collapse, and if we tried and failed, you’d collapse in public, in a country where I don’t speak the language, and neither of us has a passport. Pretty sure that’s illegal, now that I think about it. So.” She held out her arm again, steadily this time.

“I c-can’t argue...” he whined, slumping back against the wall. Eventually he dragged himself back up and to where she was sat. He gingerly took her arm and put his mouth to the cut. It was inadequate, so he used his fangs. At least this way wasn’t painful.

“You know, this isn’t anything like any of the nightmare scenarios I had in my head,” she said. “I thought it would hurt, for one thing.” She rifled in her bag one handed and pulled out her phone. “Still okay for time.”

Despite what she said, he could feel she was tense through her arm. She held it rigid, while she kept a lookout for people and cars.

Eventually he let go and just let himself breathe.

“I should probably get a plaster or a bandage for this,” she began, looking at her arm. “Oh... It’s actually not bleeding that much. It’s stopped already?”

“Vampire bites h-heal v-very fast.”

“I’m gonna get some cute plasters anyway,” she said, standing up a little shakily and dusting herself off. “I’m always getting scrapes from my prince work and um, I... don’t want people to see the bite mark. But mainly I want to buy cute stuff. Is that okay? It’s on the way back. That Daiso place.”

“Y-you could tell me y-you want t-to tour the whole city by foot a-and I’d agree.”

“Is there anything you want?”

“I w-want to s-sleep for s-seven hundred y-years,” he replied. “A-and some more of th-that tea.”

They returned to the store and got more sweets and drinks, and a few interesting gizmos. It was now the wee hours of the morning in Fairyland, and it was disheartening to know that they had a few hours to walk before they got to the palace and more importantly, their bedrooms.

When they stepped through the door to Fairyland, they found a carriage waiting there.

“There you are!” Tyrian exclaimed with relief. “I thought something might have happened, so I came to wait for you. Will told me this was the return door he gave you.”

“We weren’t gone that long, were we?” Lucinda asked.

“I... suppose not, but it was getting dark and you weren’t back, and I know its not dark there yet, but I don’t know, it’s Victor’s first trip to Earth and everything,” he rambled. “Not that I don’t trust you Lucy!” he backpedalled. “So ah, was everything all right? No emergencies?”

“N-none at all,” replied Victor.

“Completely uneventful,” Lucinda reported.

“Very good then,” Tyrian said, opening the carriage door. “Get in.”

“You have no idea how glad we are that we don’t have to walk back,” Lucinda told him as she climbed inside. She settled herself into the opposite corner, on the same side as Tyrian.

Victor lay full length on the other seat, facing the ceiling.

“So, what did you get up to?” Tyrian asked brightly.

“N-no questions, please,” Victor protested.

“Agreed. No questions, only sleep,” Lucinda added, closing her eyes and getting as comfortable as possible.

“Hmm.” He peered at them both in turn before settling back himself. “Very well, as you wish,” he acquiesced.

They were asleep before they even reached the edge of the forest.

----

I have so much stuff to do right now but this INSISTED on being written.

Oh and... Lucinda is wrong about there being zero dragons. Just fyi.

[ninja-muse]

I need to start walking past used bookstores instead of into them…

Anyway, June was an all right reading month. I read some really good books, and some kind of poor ones, which is fairly normal, but I also didn't read as much as usual. This is a combination of having a few slow reads (Steampunk, Navola) and writing up a storm, neither of which is a bad thing. I am so glad to have written as much as I have this month. The end of the latest WIP is in sight!

Navola, by the way, is really good and if I'd been organized enough to take a photo of the ARC before I unhauled it, it would have gotten a dedicated review here. Think Renaissance Italy, low magic, ruthless politics, a boy coming of age, an unwanted destiny he has no choice but to accept, the trapped soul of a dragon… It's complex and twisted and detailed and layered, the sort of book you have to pay attention to and which will surprise you anyway. Highly recommended if you like George R.R. Martin or Robin Hobb or grimdark that's less about blood and battles and more about everyone being flawed and kind of awful.

This was also a month of ebooks for me, accidentally. I had a few library holds come in (and delayed one until next month because time), and I received not one but two e-ARCs, the second of which I'm working on right now. I also had one of those moments mid-month where I had no idea what to read so went for something radically different—a thriller about a forensic artist, mostly because it had been on my TBR for a bit and was available on Libby the day I needed a book.

And I reread Drums Along the Congo! Which I last read over 25 years ago so it was basically a new book to me. There's a lot of stuff I either missed or forgot the first time, but I was a kid who was reading it for the living dinosaurs rather than an adult reading for the journey and historical moment. I can't imagine the details about Congo in the 1980s would've made much of an impression. If you're into travel writing, it's one I'd recommend.

The third book off my TBR, A Bouquet From France, is that pretty marbled cover. (I nabbed it off my dad's unhaul pile mostly for that.) More interesting than the poems are some of the 1920s-era translation choices and the fact that the book has actual handcut deckle edges, like you can see where the knife went in off-center to cut the signatures open. Also Victor Hugo is introduced as one of France's best poets, with no mention that he might have also written some major novels.

In terms of my book haul for the month: one out-of-print comic book my work got on sale; one memoir a coworker was unhauling; two travel books that the "I've adulted so now I get a treat" used bookstore had in stock. One is the sequel/follow-up to one I hauled last month, so it's nice to have both. The other is excerpted letters by an English diplomat's wife from Constantinople in the early 1700s.* I successfully delayed a trip to the other tempting used bookstore until next month, so stayed tuned for that.

*Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Awesome woman. Look her up.

And that's about it for this time around. I didn't do exciting cultural events or anything, just read and wrote a lot. How was your June?

Click through to see everything I read this month, in the rough order of how glad I was to have read them.

How to Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying - Django Wexler

Dani’s stuck in a time loop in a fantasy world. She’s supposed to be the Chosen One but that clearly not working. Time to switch sides for funsies…

8/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (bi woman), protagonist of colour

borrowed from work

Navola - Paolo Bacigalupi

Davico has always been aware of Navola’s politics and his banking family’s role in them, but also knows he’s unsuited to inherit that power. Unfortunately, in a city that breathes intrigue bowing out isn’t exactly an option. Out in July.

8.5/10

warning: violence, graphic injury, pseudo-incest

reading copy

A Bouquet From France - Wilfred Thorley, translator

A collection of French poetry from the 1100s to the 1920s.

7/10

off my TBR shelves

Steampunk - Ann and Jeff Vandermeer, editors

A collection of steampunk stories, old and new.

7/10

warning: misogyny, racism, eugenicists

off my TBR shelves

Running Close to the Wind - Alexandra Rowland

Avra, rubbish spy, finds himself on his ex’s pirate ship in possession of a deadly trade secret. Unfortunately, selling it to the highest bidder means working with a very sexy monk, and all manner of shenanigans.

7.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (multisexual), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (ungendered, achillean), major character with prosthetic eye, largely brown-skinned cast, 🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: frequent discussions of sex, cursing, animal death

library ebook

Every Time We Say Goodbye - Natalie Jenner

Vivien moves to Rome in the 1950s to work as a script doctor and possibly learn the true fate of her soldier fiancé.

6.5/10

Black American secondary characters, 🇨🇦

library ebook

The Face of Deception - Iris Johansen

Eve Duncan, world-class forensic artist, is drawn into a dangerous web when she takes a commission from a tech billionaire.

6.5/10

warning: animal death, murder

library ebook

The Black Bird of Chernobyl - Ann McMan

Lilah’s happily misanthropic life preparing bodies at her funeral home is upset when her father hires perky Sparkle for community outreach. Then Lilah goes viral… Out in July.

6.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (lesbian), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (lesbian, sapphic), Black secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: death, grief

digital reading copy/won

Reread:

Drums Along the Congo - Rory Nugent

A naturalist travels deep into the African jungle in search of a legendary living dinosaur—or tries to. A lovely portrait of a time and place.

7.5/10

predominantly (Black) African cast

warning: animal death, brief mentions of Congo’s colonial brutalities

off my TBR shelves

Currently reading

The Dishonest Miss Take - Faye Murphy

Desperate to clear her name after a murder she didn't commit, a superpowered former villain stumbles onto a mystery—and a curious assassin. Out in September.

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (sapphic), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (sapphic)

digital reading copy/won

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin

A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts. The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle

Victorian detective stories.

disabled POV character (limb injury), occasional Indian secondary characters

warning: racism, colonialism

Monthly total: 8 + 1 Yearly total: 59 Queer books: 3 Authors of colour: 0 Books by women: 3 Authors outside the binary: 1 Canadian authors: 1 Classics: 1 Off the TBR shelves: 3 Books hauled: 4 ARCs acquired: 3 ARCs unhauled: 2 DNFs: 0

January February March April May

[henqtic]

the library . xavier thorpe x reader . wc: 524.

note: this started off as something really small ( like a headcanon ) of xavier being a terrible studier but i just extended it :)

·:*₊‧ masterlist . taglist form . request works . ·:*₊‧✩

Xavier Thorpe is a terrible studier.

Intelligent person, yeah, of course. He does pretty well in classes and on tests with just needing to review the material for a good five minutes.

But an overall studier when he really needs it? Terrible.

He gets caught up doodling while reading over a textbook or watching a video lesson. It’s his fault really, keeping a blank piece of paper on his side and all. There’s something about an empty, soulless page, that really itches something in his soul.

It’s the margins first. Just a little something here and there to keep the right side of his brain occupied. He then moves on to in between the lines, just a teeny little ant teetering back to its colony, and then on top of some words he scribbled down at the last minute once class ended.

He couldn’t understand it anyways.

So it wouldn’t really matter if he added a little illustration on top of it. By the end of it all, he's filled up his notes to the point when they're incomprehensible.

Getting recommended a tutor by a teacher who had to witness the spew of drawings on what was supposed to be graded homework was his wake up call.

It wasn’t like he lacked the ability to study— he just needed something, someone, to keep him motivated and on task.

The library was much calmer and a lot easier to stay focused. Barely anyone came by since e-books were less work to annotate and less weight on their backs; it would just be you and him ( for the most part ).

When you told him the idea of mandatory study dates every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday there— his first emotion was excitement over anything. 

Thinking that the study part would just flake off and the guaranteed dates with his favorite girl three times a week would stay. 

But it doesn’t. It’s the opposite actually. It's non-stop studying and you barely speak to him unless it’s to sneak snacks under the table. After about a week’s worth of study dates, he realizes that it’s not the place that’s the problem — it’s just him.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, realizing that he’s zoned out again. 

“Something wrong?”

“Oh no,” he dismisses quickly, kissing your cheek to distract from the crowded paper hidden beneath his sleeve, “I just wanted to see what you’ve been up to. I miss hearing your voice.” 

“Don’t try it, Xavier,” you scoffed jokingly, allowing him into your dump of open books, highlighters, and written notes. 

He scoots his chair to you, reaching his arm over your shoulders and laying his head on your side. You’d gotten so much done and he’d done absolutely nothing so, he attempts to copy some of the material down on some loose leaf paper so that he gets something out of all of it. 

But inevitably, his pencil is back in his hand and scrolling away until it’s filled up, it tip-toes around to your notebook, now, discreetly, like a little kid doing something they knew they were forbidden to do.  

“I think you need a real tutor baby.”

🔖— !! @pandoraneverland​ @mollysolo​ @wxnderingthoughts​ @oliviah-25​ @instabull​

༊ @henqticstudy — follow and turn on notifications for this blog to only get notified when a work is posted ( or just fill out the taglist form )

thank you for reading, every single like and reblog is appreciated  🌷 !

[acourtofthought]

I find it funny that “I’m getting her back” is mate behavior but “I’m getting my mate back”, which happens first, is not. Especially considering Lucien is, in fact, Elain’s mate.

Lucien would have gone into Hybern’s camp 100% to save Elain. But he wasn’t there because he listened to Elain, took her visions seriously and went to find Vassa and bring an army. And apparently get close with daddy Archeron.

While Az and Elain can make a cute couple, that’s a novella story, not a 700-800 page book. There’s just no tension or angst between them that can’t be resolved with one simple conversation. People go from “Az and Elain defying destiny” to “Az is Elain’s true mate” when they remember Az wants a mate of his own.

Many people have helpfully pointed out that mates aren’t given when someone turns fae (because then how the hell do born fae get their mates?). Rhys was having visions of Feyre before he even met her. Cassian suspected Nesta was his mate when they first met and she was still human. Lucien reacts to Elain and tries to protect her *before* she was thrown into the Cauldron.

Lucien was the one who was trying to get to Elain in ACOMAF, both before and after being put in the Cauldron. Lucien was the one who was beside himself over being separated from Elain in ACOMAF. Lucien was the one who was desperate to see her in ACOWAR (while we are given zero indication that Az had any interest in visiting Elain at the HOW). Lucien and not Az has shown Elain mate behavior. Also, the only reason E/riels get to claim any interactions between Elain and Az in ACOWAR (including the "I'm getting her back) and parts of ACOFAS is because Lucien or someone else was unable to do something first. Lucien was blocked at every turn when he tried to be there for Elain. Had Feyre and Nesta not directed their interactions and when they were allowed to occur, the start of Elucien would have looked much different. Had the sisters not demanded Lucien leave Elain in the library, LUCIEN would have been able to ask her directly if she'd like to go outside. Had Elain had time to actually answer Feyre rather than having Az jump in and speak for her, FEYRE would have been the ones to take her to see how the garden was coming in. Had Feyre known more about the Fae world, SHE would have known Elain was a seer rather than looking to Az (as spymaster and the ability to know things others don't) for answers. Had Cassian not been injured, HE would have been the one to go after Elain after she was stolen by the Cauldron. Had Elain been more comfortable with weapons, CASSIAN's dagger would have been the one she accepted (but as it stands, she only took Az's after Feyre reassured her that she wouldn't have it use it). And had Az had any interest in Elain at all during the start of ACOFAS, he wouldn't have needed to ask Rhys whether he was supposed to get her a gift. Az never showed Elain mate like behavior, he simply copied the actions of everyone around him and then, once he saw Elain shied away from her mate (for reasons unknown) and he started to realize Mor was never going to return his affections, he decided that the cauldron must have screwed up because then he could have had a bond with a sister just like his brothers had and that math makes such perfect sense to Az because he and his brothers need to stick together with everything (including sister wives). E/riel is built on Az having to observe the way others responded to Elain and that is not instinctual mate like behavior. He basically jumped on to the bandwagon after he started to realize Mor wasn't going to be his and rather than taking some time to process and heal from that information, he immediately focused on the next available, attractive, seemingly in need of a hero female in his orbit. E/riel could have made a cute couple if written by another author who is not known to be a fated mates author. They could be cute if the author in question hadn't already established that she finds males who try to prevent the female from doing more as problematic (i.e. Tamlin / Feyre). They could be cute if SJM hadn't confirmed that Az's thoughts of a future with Elain have never actually gone beyond his sexual fantasies however he has put a lot of thought in how he'd go about winning the snowball fight. They could have been cute had she not introduced a different female who Az has expressed admiration for (when he's never expressed it for Elain), who makes Az's shadows dance (when they disappear around Elain), and who makes him feel settled and whose happiness brings a smile to his face. If SJM wanted E/riel to be a cute couple, there were a lot of things she could have written differently to convey that.

[kaija-rayne-author]

Not going to reblog it in order to respond, but lets talk about piracy, specifically of books.

It's a fraught discussion. Many people take the black/white stance on it. I personally do not pirate, because I know the cost to authors. If piracy had been a thing in the xtian cult I grew up in, I probably would have. We were an hour away from the closest library. It wasn't safe for me to read the queer books I needed.

I've been poor enough (am now) where I can't afford books. I've been far enough away from a library that it wasn't a viable option. My library really doesn't have the books I want to read. I've requested them, but they haven't shown up. Some countries don't even have libraries. Some people can't read the works they want to because of external pressures.

There's more to it than good/bad.

Firstly, the most likely person to pirate a book is a cis, white, western male who makes 70k or more/year. That's just sheer entitlement and yes, it's wrong. Period.

But what about the poor people, the queer people who don't dare check out the queer books they need? What about, what about, what about... I get it. I really really do.

I'm an author whose books are pirated a lot. If I had a nickel/5 cents for every copy of my work that's been pirated, I wouldn't be edging on homelessness right now.

Some truths.

1. Most authors aren't wealthy. Most aren't even financially stable. Like any industry, there's the golden show ponies that make ridiculous amounts of money. Then there's the rest of us, who, if we're lucky, make 10k a year on our books. (I never have.)

2. It takes anywhere between 8 weeks of ridiculously long days to actual years to write a book. And these are niche, hard to acquire skills. Not everyone can write. I think almost anyone can learn how to write well, but it’s not inborn, and most people don't dedicate themselves to it. These are skills we've had to learn. So a person who pirates is also taking that from the author too.

3. Writing isn't easy. It's blood, sweat, tears, and so much time away from the people who love us to make that book. If there's no reward for us in it, why would we continue publishing? I wrote for myself far longer than I have for publication. People tell me I'm a great writer. If there's nothing in it for me beyond the joy of writing, why should I add the extra work of making my stories publishable? And there's sooooo much extra work and hours that go into that.

4. Piracy reduces the chance that that author can keep writing. It really does. We have to eat and pay bills like anyone else. Every single piece of great art we, as a species, have comes from people who had a place to live, money for supplies, and both time and energy to create. If you're living in poverty, like me, it can be nigh impossible to create. So you're taking that too. If you love an author's work, you're making it less likely they can either finish the series you've pirated books from, or even write at all.

5. Boycotting Amazon doesn't hurt Amazon, but it sure as hell hurts authors.

6. If you are in a position where piracy is your only option... email the author, their publicist, or their publisher and request a review e-copy. We'll usually send it in hopes of a review. It's likely to be cleaner and more readable than any pirated copy. Plus, it's legal.

7. If you have to pirate, at least have the basic decency to do something for the author in return. That can be a lot of things. Leaving a review at any site you can access that accepts reviews is probably one of the best. Reviews really do sell books for us. Good or bad reviews, it doesn't matter. Obviously, positive is better, but even a negative review can prevent another negative review by warning people of things they might not enjoy in the work.

Send them an email if you loved it. Writing is a lonely profession, and fan mail has absolutely kept me writing on hard days. It means a lot to get positive fan mail. (I've never even heard of an author who has asked where you got the book.)

Drop a dollar into their Kofi if you can. Or become a patron. Especially if you can afford it and love our work, you can help us keep writing that way too. If my patron were filled to the point where I could afford to write more, I could be easily getting 3 books out a year vs the 1 every couple of years I'm currently managing to do. And my books are free for my patrons.

Fan art can also be a nice thing to receive.

Important! Talk about our books with anyone who might possibly be interested (if it's safe for you to do so) word of mouth is still the best advertising there is. Mention them on your social media too.

8. Piracy is very far away from a victimless crime. You are (whatever your reasons) harming the author who wrote the book. Even if you weren't going to buy it, you're still encouraging people to rip the books and make them available illicitly.

9. I did mention most of us will send a copy out to those who ask for one, right? Especially if we're indie with little to no marketing budget. We're hoping you'll review it, but there aren't any reviews police. Most authors who are decent people will just send it and hope. (I've been harassed for reviewing a book before, so I'd be remiss if I didn't say there wasn't a risk of the author asking you about the review. It's considered incredibly rude to do so in publishing circles, but there's still some authors who will. Use a throw away email.)

10. Sign up for Netgalley and Edelweiss. These are sites where publishers put books up for requests for reviews. You request the book, (for free unless something has changed recently) then, if you get it, you're supposed to review it. But again, there's no review police. (Please do review if you can.)

11. If you do have access to a library, you can ask them to order it. A lot of the time they will. And libraries have to pay the author/publisher to license the work, so we get paid by libraries too. You're helping an author by using a library, not harming them.

12. Lastly, check your entitlement. The world we currently live in doesn't value art (and writing is art) enough to pay a living wage for it. If you want art, someone has to pay us to do it, because otherwise we can't pay the power bill. Or any other bills. Writing shouldn't be the sole province of the wealthy and well off. Yet, I've seen so many writers stop writing because they just can't afford to. I'm there right now. If you want a world where authors can afford to give our work away for free, start voting for things like social programs and UBI. So that we can create art without worrying about the bills.

I'll probably think of more later, but those are the basics.

Don't bother arguing with me. You know it's wrong to pirate. It's, as noted, something that some people need to do because of poverty or lack of access or, or, or. Unless it's a disability issue, just wanting the e-copy vs the paper copy your library has isn't enough of an excuse. You can email the author or get it legally from a reviewing site. And if you're one of the well off folks who pirate? Fuck you. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

You do not have the right to steal from authors for any reason, much less your convenience. Talk about privilege and entitlement.

There are extenuating circumstances, and there are also non-piracy ways to get books.

[bixiebeet]

Winston’s First Day: part 3

I will put this onto Ao3 once I reset my password and get into my account! I also like giving a first glimpse here on Tumblr. It feels like I can still edit if needed.

Earlier chapters: https://www.tumblr.com/bixiebeet/718131221788524544/she-waits-for-me

Chapter 3: The Firehouse Tour

Egon slid past Janine and entered the office. He introduced himself and shook Winston’s hand. “Has anyone done a brain scan on you yet?” Egon asked.

Winston panicked until he realized that this must have been a joke. “You guys are real pranksters,” Winston said.

“I’m serious. I’m curious why someone would willingly join a business like this,” Egon said flatly.

Janine raised her eyebrows from behind him. “Not for the pay. But don’t tell Dr. Venkman I said that,” she muttered.

Winston was trying to come up with a good answer when Ray burst into the office. He slammed his Tobin’s Spirit Guide on Peter’s desk. The cover and pages were very worn down. “Sorry it’s a bit rough. We can get you a new copy.”

Egon brushed some potato chip bags off the desk and revealed a pristine copy of the same book. “I’m sure that Peter won’t mind us borrowing this. He didn’t open it once in grad school,” Egon said with a smirk.

Janine dashed back to her desk to take an incoming phone call. Egon and Ray took Winston on a tour of the firehouse, starting with the upstairs. The snacks and refrigerator were open to everyone. Same with the arcade games—they were ready to play anytime, no coins required. Ray and Winston each played a game of pinball, while Egon grabbed a pack of Twinkies to eat later.

The shared bunk room was plain but functional. Ray explained that they’d all lived in furnished apartments at Columbia University before moving into the firehouse. That’s why they didn’t bring much decor with them. (“We were unceremoniously thrown out on our asses thanks to Venkman,” he said. “And it was the best thing that ever happened in my life. Despite being scary as hell.”) They offered to get a new bed for Winston or have him sleep on the firehouse’s pull out sofa. However, he insisted that he’d rather keep his apartment in the Bronx. Even though the subway commute would be long, Winston told himself that it would be nice to have his own space.

Although most of the areas were for common use, Egon’s lab and Ray’s book collection were off limits. These were some of the only spaces with a modicum of privacy—something that felt quite elusive while working and living all in one place. (“This is a 24/7 gig. Even Janine works late. Peter always tells me to escort her home, and he tries to insist that I spend the night. As if I want to sleep on her sofa when I have a perfectly good bed here,” Egon scoffed. Winston silently suspected that Peter wasn’t trying to force Egon to sleep on Janine’s sofa.)

Winston was extremely impressed by what he saw in the lab and makeshift library. Egon had stacks of drawings depicting the various Ghostbuster gadgets. Some items were adapted from existing tech, while others were totally new creations. Moreover, Egon obviously loved building things just as much as he loved drawing them. Winston had worked with a lot of military and construction equipment, but he’d never seen anything quite like Egon’s work.

After playing around with an early neutrona wand prototype, Ray led them over to his books. He had a very unique ordering system and preferred that no one meddle with it. (It was a mix of theme, author, and how many pictures were inside.) But otherwise, anyone could ask to borrow a book at any time. Unlike Egon’s gizmos, none of Ray’s collection had the potential to blast a hole through the ceiling.

Winston tried his best not to get overly excited, even though he felt like a kid in a candy shop. His childhood library paled in comparison to this. Ray had sourced books about spirits, hauntings, and the paranormal from all around the world. He had a whole section dedicated to major cities: Cairo, New York, Tokyo, and more. Ray’s section on London hauntings filled up a whole shelf; he explained that he had studied there and brought home a suitcase full of supernatural reference books. Winston couldn’t wait to start reading.

They continued the tour and passed through the lobby, stopping to ask Janine about ordering Winston’s jumpsuit. Then Ray remembered that he’d left another full ghost trap in the back of the Ecto-1. They grabbed the trap, and the three men went down to the basement.

[amloveabledeathmo]

After finishing The Hobbit some time ago I just started reading The Fellowship and I'm so excited!! I had actually started before, but in French. And I do read French, but not very fast, so I decided I would start again when given the opportunity. I finally got a hold of the book from the library (they only have TWO english LOTR versions for the whole city?!) and I'm enjoying it a lot already! I haven't seen the movies so I really don't know what's gonna happen.

Sorry for the infodump, I swear I also have a question: Are your Hobbit fanfics based on the movies or just the book? As I understand there has to be more going on in the movies as there seem to be three of them. I would love to read your fics but I wanna read the LOTR books first before starting on all the movies. Would you recommend I wait or can I read them between the LOTR books? I don't know when I can get book two from the library so I will probably need something to bridge that gap and I want to read your fics anyway!

(Sorry this is a really long ask I hope it's not overwhelming)

Yay! Another addition to the Hobbit and LOTR fandom, welcome welcome.

My fics are mostly movie based just because I read the hobbit and lord of the rings in elementary school. We found a full set that my grandma had so I read them. So movies are more recent in my brain. Also mostly about Bilbo and Thorin in a relationship. A few of mine mention Tauriel who is a movie character that was not in the books but those are usually tagged with kiliel or kili/tauriel.

I think the timelines in the book and movies are pretty similar and many of mine are aus or divert from canon so I think they'd be fine.

The ask is totally not overwhelming and I'm so glad you're able to find the books and enjoy them. Does your library have an audio or e book check out option? If they do you might be able to get a copy that way.

I think the book has more except the fights are usually pretty brief and the movies really spend time on them. I think they went with three movies just to try to keep as much as possible. It normally takes longer to have a conversation or do an action than to read about it so I'd guess that's why there are three movies.

[caffeinated-bibliophile]

This is probably going to be a long rambling rant because I'm angry, can't stop crying and I'm alone and I need to vent

I am furious and devastated and idk what to do. It looks like Brooklyn public library is going to force me into either not really reading much anymore, or using something like KU or maybe LibroFM, because they've stopped offering out of state cards (which were $50/year), there are no used bookshops near me (the closest is a couple hours away in another state), and I can't afford to buy most of the books I read anyway, even if I could get them all used.

Am I overreacting by crying all over my cat? Probably. First world problems and all that.

I live in rural appalachia. My library is part of a regional group on overdrive/Libby, which means all material is shared amongst about 20 counties. (Brooklyn's collection on overdrive is more than 6 times what my region's collection is.)

They can rarely add new items, there's no way to request items online (you have to go into a library and then it's up to them if they get a physical or digital copy), and the selection of material that conservatives would deem objectionable is tiny and not likely to grow much in the near future. (Honestly, I'll be surprised if they manage to keep what they currently have.) Wait lists are often 6+ weeks long at best for older titles, they rarely have more than one copy of anything, and I've been on the wait list for over a year before for a newer release. (Like Michelle Obama's Becoming, which I ended up getting within a few weeks after I signed up for the out of state Brooklyn card.)

I don't blame our libraries. They do their best. I wish they had more resources, and I wish that I could do more. This whole thing is just the fucking worst timing. I have things checked out, and I had holds on books that no library within 100 miles of me has in any form. My depression is also in full swing, and one of the only things that's ever kept me going is books/reading. I also can't go renew my local library card right now because I'm injured and having car trouble. (I mean. I'm also disabled and really don't want to drive an hour one way without my partner in case I can't drive back, but whatever.)

If I'd had any warning, before I logged in to start the card renewal process, I wouldn't be such a mess. But I ended up having to use a search engine to find a page where they have a notice about no longer offering OOS cards because I couldn't find it, and I never got an e-mail, notification on my account, or anything else giving me a heads up that last year was the end of being able to get/renew one of those cards.

I'm so frustrated, and this has thrown a wrench into my reading plans for the rest of the year, at least. I guess I'm going to go find out if any of the other libraries that used to offer something similar still do so.

[felicereviews]

How to Get Ahead in Advertising (1989) Rated R, 90 Minutes

Next up in this cult series is the perfect 80's black comedy, How to Get Ahead in Advertising. It's a name you can't forget and while it's not as easy to rent as it once was (I first saw it in the mid-90's) - it's not impossible to locate. I found a DVD copy at my local library.

As you know I am working my way through two books on cult films and a box set of 52 cult drive-in movies. Well, this film is in NONE of those. But sometimes the selection in the book or in the box set leads me to another place and I just had to bring How to Get Ahead in Advertising to your attention. Have you seen it?

It's about a successful ad man who is stuck on a pimple cream ad campaign. He can't sleep and chain smokes and eventually grows a boil himself. The boil then grows a face and begins to speak to him. It's wildly funny and that's what I remembered about the movie. How funny the boil was. I did not remember the cutting remarks on modern society's need to be told what to buy and why they need it nor did I remember the way the film seemed to loath the 80's descent into consumerism.

In some ways the main character of this film reminded me of Don Draper from Mad Men (if Don Draper had been allowed to go outright nuts). Richard E. Grant plays the lead - I haven't seen him in a movie where I didn't like his character. I mean even in this one he is rather detestable at times but lovable also. His wife is played by Rachel Ward of 80's cinema fame (Against All Odds). And it's just sweet to see her be the straight man in this farcical bit of insanity.

I want to mention the writer/director Bruce Robinson. We haven't seen him do too much lately - but what he did in the 80's was pretty great. He wrote The Killing Fields and was nominated for an Oscar for it. The Killing Fields was one of the first R rated movies I saw in the theater without an adult. We thought we were so cool buying our tickets like we were getting away with something. 'Ha!', we thought, 'we must look so mature'. Only to find out it's a war movie and terribly sad. But I'll never forget it! He also wrote and directed Richard E. Grant in Withnail & I which has been on my watch list for a bit. I think Robinson had a good eye and was one of those artists who just couldn't tolerate the film industry and so didn't make a lot of movies.

Which leads me back around to the film that was next in line in the book '100 Cult Films' that I decided NOT to blog about. That film is Brazil. I watched it. I watched it twice actually - once with the director's commentary on and once with it off. And I can only tell you that I didn't enjoy the movie enough to include it on my list of cult film classics. I didn't find enough to relate to or hope for in the movie. It wasn't bad but not my cup of tea. But why I am mentioning it at all is that Terry Gilliam directed and wrote Brazil which was rather his magnum opus and Gilliam was another bloke who did not suffer the film industry well.

So there you have it. Sometimes we get real artists who want to make movies and they don't care whether we like them or not.

[cea-tide]

Download Firefox if you haven't already!

Importing bookmarks from other browsers is as easy as a click of a button; import from a html file or import directly from chrome.

Also use DuckDuckGo as your default search engine instead of Google. If you really need to search something with Google, you can always put @/google (without the slash) in front of your search query. Some settings to enable for better privacy:

Enable automatic cookie deletion when closing Firefox (there is a whitelist)

Set "Send Do Not Track signal" to Always

Enable HTTPS Only mode

Enable Strict Tracking Protection

Some useful add ons and settings can be found below to protect your privacy and improve FF. You can manage your add ons, enable and disable them, at about:addons (you can type it in the address bar), or navigate to it by clicking on the add ons icon in the toolbar.

Anti-tracking

UBlock Origin: The one and only adblocker (+ more) for firefox. Protect yourself from ads, trackers, miners, popups, etc.

Decentraleyes, Don't track me Google, Facebook Container, Google Container, Privacy Badger, [TrackMeNot](Edit: not as effective as it seems; see this review): A healthy amount of anti-tracker/anti-fingerprinting extensions.

JShelter: An aggressive anti-tracking add on. Be careful with this as some websites will break if you disable certain stuff with this. (I had to disable the add on unfortunately as it broke the tumblr cookie page)

Consent-o-matic: Automatically declines as much cookies as possible. Do NOT use "I don't care about cookies" (IDCAC). This add on was sold to a data seller. There is a fork of IDCAC here, but I haven't tested it yet.

Cookie AutoDelete: Deletes all unused cookies when closing a tab. I recommend also auto-deleting all cookies when closing firefox.

User Agent Switcher: Make tracking based on user agents more difficult by faking the UA you are using.

ClearURLs: Removes all tracking bullshit from links when copying and pasting.

Simple Translate: Translate selections of text or whole webpages on-the-fly.

Firefox Relay: don't want online shops or other websites to know what your email is? FF Relay forwards emails from their emails (email masks) to your real email. You can even block emails on a mask. With the free version you can have up to 4 masks at the time.

Visual

Firefox Color: Create, save and share firefox themes.

Dark Reader: A dark mode add on. Your eyes deserve it >.<

Tranquility Reader: Want to read a website without all the annoying images/banners/etc? This reduces a site layout to mostly plain text by removing all distracting elements.

Don't Accept Webp: Don't accept .webp when requesting images.

Misc.

Simple Translate: Translate selections of text or whole webpages on-the-fly. It uses the DeepL and Google Translate API.

Firefox Translations: or instead use FF Translations so that the text never leaves your machine. All translations are computed locally, on the client side.

Shinigami Eyes: Highlights transphobic/anti-LGBT and trans-friendly subreddits/facebook pages/groups with different colors. Also works for tumblr urls.

Return Youtube Dislike: returns the dislike count on videos to youtube.

Sponsorblock: a crowd-sourced sponsor blocker in youtube videos.

YT Age Restriction Bypass: dont want to show your ID to youtube? This extension bypasses the age restriction on videos. (Edit: addon was removed as of 27/02/2023. If you can find the xpi file online, you can manually install it from that. Looking into alternatives...)

XKit Rewritten / New XKit: The addon for extra tumblr features.

Search Filter: Automatically filter website results without needing to put it in the search bar each time.

GreaseMonkey / TamperMonkey: run user-defined JS scripts. Be careful what you run; make sure you trust the source/script.

Lean Library: Automatically notify and fetch articles/books from your e-library when available, without needing to login multiple times.

Bypass Paywalls Clean: Bypass paywalls on news sites.

Simple Tab Groups: Manage your tabs in groups for a more organised firefox experience. (Or close your tabs ehehe I definitely do that starts sweating)

Integrated in Firefox

Add ons that are now integrated in the newer versions of Firefox.

HTTPS Everywhere (has since been removed from the add ons store): Force websites to use the HTTPS protocol for a more secure communication. In Firefox: turn on forced https by going to about:preferences#privacy and enabling it at the bottom. You can whitelist domains.

This was a PSA about Firefox add ons.

Until next time —Cyana