#the top row of books are signed by the author

[lovelookspretty]

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): ermm nothing rly, just a debate in class maybe

authors note: giving u guys a roommate since we introduced lorenzo to the series !! aria will be good !!

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

trailing into your english class, you head straight for your seat near the front. you use the exact same seat in all of your classes. it isn’t really on purpose, but it works, and it’s usually always open.

you only know a few students from this class, including your roommate aria, whose self-assigned seat is right by yours. it’s no surprise that the you join together in the first and second row, with aria in the first and you in the second, just behind her.

 as you settle your bag below your seat, you pull your laptop and notebook on top of your lap, getting ready to start your third class of the day. you’re planning on speaking with your professor after class about an essay draft you formed last night like he requested, but probably later in the day or after this period, depending on how eager you are. just to get it out of the way, signs point to very.

“excuse me,” a girl says as she appears beside the second row with some students behind her. you look up and are almost dumbfounded to lock eyes with one of the students, elara, accompanied by her friends . . . rafe and lorenzo. seriously?

you know that you share the class with the three of them but there’s usually a nonspoken rule that you don’t sit by each other. rafe and his friends usually stay in the back and whisper amongst themselves about probably the stupidest shit ever. whatever.

elara sends a kind, but somehow impatient, smile your way as she waits.

hesitantly you pull your legs further into you as much as you can, and the three students shuffle past you to settle in some seats just a few away, visibly marking their distance from you like it was necessary. as they pass, you look up, barely making eye contact with the opposite roommates as one finds no purpose in paying any mind to her while the other is too busy chatting with elara to even acknowledge you.

lorenzo has nothing but a notebook tucked under his armpit as he steps pass, a long story being recalled to elara who listens happily. rafe is right behind him, an apple between his teeth, looking stupid as ever. but at least you get some sort of acknowledgment from him.

his eyes only flicker down at you, probably to make sure he isn’t stepping over anything of yours, and his gaze briefly trails up to meet your own. there’s still no emotion. nothing from him. it’s frustrating.

he takes one last shuffle past you and then joins elara and lorenzo in their seats. you grimace as you watch them perch, your eyes immediately shifting to aria in front of you, who watched the whole thing.

her eyes told you everything. what the hell are they doing over here?

i don’t know, you send back quickly with a shrug, then look to the professor and open up your notebook. as class begins, you can’t help but send glances toward the trio next to you.

the professor clears his throat, his gaze sweeping over the room. “good morning, everyone. let’s jump right into today’s discussion,” he says, and you mentally prepare yourself on your notes and reading from the past week. “can anyone tell me their thoughts on the catcher in the rye?”

aria’s hand shoots up instinctively, her heart pounding with anticipation. you know she has been prepared extensively for this discussion all week.

“yes, arabella?” the professor calls on her, nodding in her direction.

she sets her hand down, and you can just hear the smile on her face from being able to not only discuss but be the first one to. “i think that the book is an exploration of adolescence and the struggle for identity,” she begins, her voice steady. “holden caulfield’s journey is a reflection of the universal desire to find meaning in a world filled with phoniness and hypocrisy.”

you feel the courage to raise your own hand right after her. prof thompson gives extra points for participation. what’s the harm?

“i believe holden caulfield is a complex character,” you add onto aria. “while some might see him as a disillusioned and cynical teenager, i kind of feel sympathy for him. he’s struggling with that hypocrisy and phoniness he perceives in the adult world, and his desire for authenticity and connection is palpable throughout the entire novel.”

although aria is nodding in agreement in front of you, you take a deep breath, your confidence faltering slightly when you notice rafe, lorenzo, and elara exchanging amused glances.

but even as you were talking, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping over you. were they laughing at you? or were they just sharing a private joke together? the uncertainty is gnawing at you.

before the professor can move on to the next topic, rafe raises his hand confidently, “i have to disagree,” he starts with, and you can feel yourself roll your eyes instinctively. his voice is just dripping with cockiness. “holden is nothing more than a whiny, entitled brat who refuses to take responsibility for his own actions.”

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. you didn’t expect rafe to have an opinion, let alone one that’s completely against yours . . . about a book! you’ve never seen rafe read a single book back home.

you turn to him, confusion clear in my voice. “you’ve actually read catcher in the rye?”

rafe shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin spreading across his face. “what, like it was hard?” he retorts, earning a few chuckles from his friends, even a few students. okay elle woods.

no this is rafe cameron, guys. since when did the guy ever pick up a book and participate in weekly discussions?

you avoid eye contact with the boy, though you scoff at him, your voice tinged with defiance. “well clearly you missed the point,” you shoot back. you’re only more determined to continue the argument. maybe take out all the anger you’ve gathered since the whole silent treatment thing.

even though you started it (with good reason and the intention for it not to last very long), now you’ve just been upset that there hasn’t been any closure because both sides haven’t been willing to talk to the other.

“i have to agree with y/n here,” aria chimes in, her voice calm. “holden caulfield’s disillusionment stems from a deeper existential crisis. he’s grappling with the loss of innocence and the harsh realities of adulthood, which is something countless of teenagers can relate to.”

you nod in agreement, grateful for aria’s support. “exactly,” you say, your confidence only bolstered by your friend’s validation. “holden’s struggle to find authenticity in a world filled with a lack of it is a universal theme that resonates with readers of . . . of all ages.”

the classroom buzzes with excitement as the three classmates passionately defend their interpretation of the novel. some students nod in agreement, while others furrow their brows in thought.

but before the tension could escalate further, professor thompson intervenes, a playful twinkle in his eye. “alright, enough you guys,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “although i’d love to hear you go on and on about this, we do have other topics to cover today.”

“great job on your essay draft, y/n,” thompson says, handing you back the stapled pages with a smile. his praise warms your heart and mind. it’s like a reward.

“thank you so much,” you respond, tucking the draft into your bag with a sense of accomplishment.

“yes, i particularly enjoyed the part about the protagonist’s existential crisis,” he adds, and you look up with raised brows. “really deep stuff,” he says.

you laugh and nod. “oh, that part? not gonna lie, it took me about three hours and a lot of coffee to come up with that.”

professor thompson chuckles. “well, it paid off. your insights are always a breath of fresh air in class discussions.l

“glad to hear it,” you say, feeling a bit more at ease. moments like these make the late nights and endless cups of coffee feel just a little worth it.

“one more thing before you leave," he adds, and your curiosity piques as you pause your bag-packing. you hum. “i actually need you to take on a tutoring assignment for me,” he begins, and you nod, already thinking about the extra cash you’ll earn. tutoring has always been a reliable source of income for you.

“sure, no problem. who is it?” you ask, bracing yourself for the usual names of students who struggle with their coursework.

“rafe cameron.”

the name hits you like a ton of bricks, and your heart drops. rafe cameron? of all people? the one person you’ve managed to avoid for the past week after what happened in his dorm room. you have to tutor rafe again? and now he’s failing english too? it makes your stomach churn just thinking about it all.

“rafe?” you echo, trying to mask your emotions even though you know you’re visibly upset.

“yes, rafe," professor thompson confirms, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “he’s struggling in english, and with the upcoming exam, i think it would be beneficial for him to have your guidance. you’ve proven to be an excellent tutor, crawford’s said!”

“so you know from crawford that i’ve already tutored rafe cameron, professor thompson,” you say, “wouldn’t it be fair to let rafe be tutored by . . . someone else? we have this saying ‘true tutors take turns’!”

“y/n please, no one says that.”

you falter and drop your expression, deadpanning at the man before you. “okay but it makes sense.”

“i’d recommend you contact him as soon as possible. the exam is next week, and he could really use the help.”

you nod, your mind racing. you know you can’t refuse; it's your responsibility as a tutor. and you need the money. but the thought of breaking the silent treatment and being the one to have to approaching the other person first makes you uneasy.

“okay,” you finally agree, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “i’ll reach out to him today.”

“thank you, y/n. i knew i could count on you," professor thompson says with a reassuring smile.

you walk out of his office, the weight of the new assignment pressing down on you. what could possibly get worse? you wonder as you head towards your next class, already dreading the conversation you'll have to start with rafe.

as you walk across campus, your mind replays the events of the past few weeks. you think about the tutoring session that initially went surprisingly well, and how rafe had actually passed his humanities exam with flying colors. it was a side of him you hadn’t expected—one that was hardworking and capable.

the memory of congratulating him, only to be met with his mood swings, still stings. you still have no idea what that was all about.

you replay the moment in his dorm room over and over in your mind. you were only there to congratulate him on his A, and yet he accused you of hitting on his roommate. and you didn’t even mean to give him the silent treatment for this long, but his reaction had caught you off guard. and when he stopped trying to get your attention, it’s left you feeling strangely empty.

oh my, this is such a mess, you think. why does it have to be him?

you try to focus on the positive. maybe this is an opportunity to clear the air. maybe working together again will force you both to talk about what happened. or maybe it’ll just be another disaster waiting to happen.

your steps slow as you approach the library, where you’ll be hanging out until your next class. you pull out your phone, staring at rafe’s contact information. you hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen. what if he refuses? what if he’s still angry? or worse, what if he doesn't care at all?

taking a deep breath, you finally send a brief, professional message:

‘ rafe, it's y/n. thompson asked me to help u with ur english exam prep. let me know when ur available to meet ’

you hit send and pocket your phone, feeling a mix of dread and anticipation. there’s literally no turning back now.

you just hope that this time, things will go differently.

@svnsetcrve @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @lalalalala33 @darkcolorexpert @babyflockaaaa

[writingquestionsanswered]

Worried About Traction/Why Write?

Anonymous asked: Okay answer me this, so I've read how trad publishing is going to shit, but self-publishing I doubt I could gain any traction with. Then why fucking write, ya know? People say, "write for yourself," which sounds like a lot of goody bullshit. I want people to love my writing, I need some type of validation. So, how the hell do I get anyone to care about my stories?

Just a quick note that this ask came in off Anon, and I wasn't sure if it was meant to, so I put I'm posting it Anon to be on the safe side.

So, I don't want to get too much into the "is traditional publishing dying" debacle, because it's a conversation that's complex and nuanced and outside of my energy reserves at the moment. What I will say is that the traditional publishers--the Big Five in particular--still dominate the market, especially where print books are concerned. And although self-publishing can respond more quickly to trends and shifting tastes, traditional publishing continues to evolve.

Having said that, even if traditional publishing was stronger than ever before, that wouldn't guarantee you a book deal. Even in the best of times, the odds of being traditionally published are between 1 and 2%. Even if you get a book deal, that doesn't guarantee your book will be a best-seller. Hundreds of thousands of books are traditionally published every year, and far fewer than 1% of those books will become best sellers. Being traditionally published doesn't even guarantee your book will be sold in brick and mortar bookstores. I can point you toward traditionally published books that have been out almost a year and still have fewer than 10 reviews on Amazon. I can point you toward many more with fewer than 30.

And, while we're on the subject, I can show you self-published books with thousands of reviews (positive ones, btw...)

The point is, it doesn't really matter how you publish. What you write, how you write, and how you market is far, far more important. But the reality is, most of us aren't writing the kinds of books that are going to be best-sellers, BookTok sensations, Oprah's Book Club selections, or get optioned for film rights before the ink on the book deal is even dry. So, when you say you need validation, what does that look like for you? Does it mean seeing your name at the top of the NYT best seller list for five weeks straight? Seeing your book on eye-level shelves at an international airport? Hundreds of fans showing up to your book signing? A-hundred thousand followers on Twitter eagerly awaiting news of your next release? Or, does it look like someone... anyone... enjoying your book enough to leave a 5-star review... someone calling you their favorite writer, several fans re-posting your cover reveal because they're so excited for your upcoming book, or someone writing to say your book got them through a difficult time in their lives? Because, while I would never tell you not to dare to dream of achieving the former list of expectations, I will absolutely tell you the latter list of expectations is well within your grasp. So, if that's validation enough for you, write for those people. If it isn't, and it's not enough to write for yourself, then I think all you can do is try. Write the best stories you can write. Get them out there. Promote the hell out of them and see what happens. Maybe you will be one of those lucky few who see their book at the top of the NYT best seller list for five weeks in a row. Or, maybe you won't, but you get a two-page e-mail from a fan who says your story changed their life. And maybe, after all, that's enough. Here are some posts that can help you start building a following ahead of publishing, whatever route you end up choosing. Building a buzz on social media ahead of publishing and consistent promotion afterward can make a big difference. Even if you publish traditionally. Guide: Getting Your Writing Noticed on Tumblr Guide: Author Platforms-What, Why, and How? Guide: How to Promote Yourself as a Writer/Author via Social Media 12 Sites for Sharing Original Fiction

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[slushiepizza]

The Pursuit of Catharsis

Pairing : Guy/Honey

Tags : Infidelity, Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Post-Divorce, Guy cheated on Honey and they both had a divorce, DILF Guy, Screenwriter Guy, Moving On Themes

Word Count : 1,453

ao3

How to Heal after a Cheating Spouse 

Betrayal from a loved one would cause a mix of emotions unlike any other: vitriol, grief, disappointment. In this column, relationship counselor C. Pardalis details the steps needed to move on. 

The first ever step that nobody ever wants to hear is forgiveness. Forgiveness isn’t done for your spouse’s sake- neither does it mean that you have to maintain a relationship with them. It’s about making peace with the pain of the past and moving forward. 

Honey closed all the tabs in their browser and shut down the laptop. Every website said the same thing- to forgive, forget, and be the bigger person. Pain simmered in the hollow of their chest. They stared around themselves and noted the take-out boxes on the table. Abandoned laundry piled high on top of the dining room chair- how’d it even get there?

The room could use some cleaning. They were expecting a guest, after all. 

In thirty minutes, Guy will arrive at the front door- as if he’s a visitor and not someone who’d lived in the complex for the past twenty years. Had they been younger- had they cared more, they probably would’ve been angrier. Tossed all of his things when they found out- when they saw the mark on the side of his neck, the pair of tickets for a vacation they didn’t book, the foreign smell of cologne sticking in the inside of his jacket. But they didn’t- and instead held onto his things for him to pick up after the divorce had been finalized. Time flew in the blink of an eye and papers were signed.

They’re older. Possibly wiser- but they think they’re just tired of it all. Or maybe they were looking for an excuse to get out of the relationship, anyway. It didn’t matter anymore. Honey quickly folded and put away the laundry in a mechanical way, their hands moved faster than their mind could catch up. 

Honey looked at the inside of their closet- a row of newer, sleek designer clothing came into view. They bit the inside of their cheek as they decided on what to wear. They came a long way ever since they began dating him- no longer the college student living in cramped, shared dorms, but someone with a sizable enough salary to afford some luxuries. 

Of course, that was nothing compared to Guy the best-selling author, award-winning screenwriter. Everything had its costs, they supposed. They hated to admit it- but they should’ve seen it coming. The success- the downfall. The way it crashed and burned for them.

Try dating yourself, the article said. Make an effort to treat yourself well and find confidence like how you would a partner. 

They picked a matching set- a navy-blue, cashmere suit and jacket. Honey looked at themself in the mirror and saw signs of aging. They also saw the bags under their eyes from sleepless nights. Nothing some concealer couldn’t fix. They straightened their jacket and fastened a watch to their wrist. 

There’s nothing to prove, Honey reminded themself. But they knew that it was a lie. They spritzed perfume on the inside of their neck. They were dressed as if they were going somewhere-when ten minutes ago, they were lounging in their sleepwear, unable to get themselves out of bed. They wanted to look like they were doing well. Unaffected. Like the twenty years that went down the drain meant nothing to them. 

If Guy wanted to sleep around- then so be it. They’re a prize that he’d regret not treasuring. 

Honey straightened their posture and twisted their defeated expression into something more neutral. It didn’t last long, as they sighed and went back to their sagged shoulders and hurt, pathetic gaze. They’d play the part when he’s here. It’s exhausting to keep up the facade when they felt nothing but confident, around them remnants of what used to be. 

Their wedding ring sat in the same drawer they kept their watches. They should pawn it off soon. 

Focus on personal development. Improve yourself and stick to a routine. It’s easy to fall into a rut when grieving the ending of a relationship, especially due to your partner’s mistake. 

Honey was the healthiest they’d ever been- yet it’s the worst they’ve ever felt. They go on runs in the crack of dawn and hike on the weekends. They’ve tried everything an acai-bowl eating, veganism-practicing LA native would do: pilates, yoga, hot yoga, crossfit. The post-exercise endorphins would soothe them momentarily, but soon the grief of it all would crash into them like a wave against the cliffs and they stood, heaving on the floor like an animal.

It’s ironic how they were the happiest when they would barely sleep and eat anything that they could afford at the time- which wasn’t much. When Guy would excitedly bring pizza for dinner when they knew that he’d pay for them out of his own paycheck. He’d say that he made it especially for them, and the worst part was that it was true. He put onions because he knew they liked them when he didn’t- put up with the horrors of pineapple on pizza when he found it disgusting. 

Honey swallowed and fought the incoming tears. Fuck. 

A series of knocks echoed through the apartment and they straightened themself. A picture of serenity and composure. The door swung to reveal the person they’ve been dreading. 

“Hey,” he greeted, somewhat hesitant. He had the nerve to look sorry. Anger boiled in their stomach and took purchase in their diaphragm as Honey dissected the man in front of them. 

At forty-five, he was definitely still attractive, the half-up, salt-and-pepper hair and unshaved stubble giving him an air of aged wisdom. But Honey just thought that he looked weary, the well-tailored, expensive suit doing a good job of hiding his defeated sort of pride. They have that in common.

It’s been a difficult year. 

“Your things are in the boxes near the couch. I packed them so you can just take them away,” they said, curt and flat. 

“Okay,” he replied, tight-lipped. They could feel the sadness emanating from him- it reminded them of the night of the confrontation- when he broke down and said that they should leave, because they deserved better. And they do, they like to believe that they do. But why is it so hard?

“Your books and CDs- the Star Trek merch is over there, too.” 

“Thanks,” Guy muttered. And the two of them stood in a suffocating silence. 

“I don’t resent you, by the way,” Honey said, the words practiced, their back turned from him against the backdrop of the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

“Really.” It was rhetorical, not a question but more of an ironic statement. 

Guy gave a weak laugh, like it’s a private joke only he understood. After signing one movie deal after the next, He’s somehow rougher on the edges now, as if any form of gentleness that remained in him was no longer. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, grief-stricken and still as earnest as ever, and Honey could feel the twist of a knife in their stomach. 

The article repeated itself in their mind. The first ever step that nobody ever wants to hear is forgiveness. 

Fuck that, Honey thought as they tried to hold themself together. Fuck that article. Fuck Guy. Fuck him and his ambitions and the pains of his past for taking the one thing they ever cared about. 

What if they don’t want to forgive? What if the pain was so unbearable- it wasn’t like this was a mistake that could be fixed with a good, healthy lifestyle and breathing exercises. Twenty years. Twenty years of seeing him, soft and gentle, yet unrelenting in the pursuit of his dreams of becoming a writer. His hair brushed against their neck whenever he’d lean his head on their shoulder back in the movie nights they had in college. Him taking care of them whenever they’re sick and pissy about it. The late-night drives and the way he’d always have time for them no matter how busy he was.

The light that drained from his eyes, the exhaustion. The way he’d go home in the dead of night, drained and tired and burnt out. The stink of cigarettes and the alcohol under his breath. The articles, the tabloids, the rumors and how they insisted that he wouldn’t do it. He loved them too much to ever leave them for someone else. 

Honey collapsed into the floor as soon as Guy closed the door behind him. Heavy sobs wrecked through them as the night wrapped them in its embrace. 

[duckprintspress]

Alright, I know there are four days left of summer technically, but looking at what I have left and what I expect to read in the next few days, I don't expect to finish any more squares, so here we are: my @queerliblib Mega-Queer Summer Reading Bingo Card! I got two bingos total - top row and one diagonal.

Genre fiction: Blackwater by Jeannette Arroyo and Ren Graham

Coming of age: Sunhead by Alex Assan

Comfort Read: Thousand Autumns vol. 5 by Meng Xi Shi

Comic, Manga, or Graphic Novel: Blue Flag vol. 2 by Kaito

Memoir: Out of Left Field by Jonah Newman

Poetry: blank

Queer pulp fiction: blank

Short Story Anthology: Many Hands: An Anthology of Polyamorous Erotica (I'm the editor so of course I read it!)

Print and post QLL fliers: I DID THIS! I printed out four quarter-sheets and last time I went to the library I asked them to put it on the board. I've got three more quarter-sheets and I'll be asking as I go to other branches, too.

Main character shares your identity: I Want to Be a Wall vol. 3 by Honami Shirono

Stonewall Award winner or nominee: blank

Format swap! Fine by Rhea Ewing (I usually read fiction, this is non-fiction, I hope that counts...)

Free space: Snapdragon by Kat Leyh

Indigenous author: blank (to the best of my knowledge none were by indigenous authors but it's also not something I usually check)

QLL book rec: blank (though again, I didn't actually check, oops)

Queer non-fiction: The Secret to Superhuman Strength by Alison Bechdel

Main character doesn't share your identity: Silent Hearts vol. 1 by Jing Shui Bian

Lambda Award winner or nominee: blank

Set in the past: For the Love of God, Marie! by Jade Sarson

Queer picture book: Wolfpitch by Balazs Lorinczi (do YA graphic novels count as picture books? oh well.)

Queer book in translation: Blue Flag vol. 4 by Kaito

Do a subject search for a book: At 30, I Realized I Had No Gender by Shou Arai

Queer classic: blank

Book with a protagonist older than 40: Guardian vol. 3 by priest (he's like. 10,000 years old.)

Set in the future: blank (amazingly, I've read like no sci-fi this summer?? wtf????)

This was a fun challenge, thanks Queer Liberation Library for hosting it!!

(are y'all in the US? have you signed up to access the QLL through Libby yet? because you should - check it out here.)

[heygerald]

I feel like with Parker (and this is, only with Parker) Tom is the type of boyfriend that, if Parker wants or wishes for a special something, he’ll get it for her. He is one of the greatest movie stars of the planet, so he has the money to spend: she wants concert tickets? She gets VIP first row. She gets obsessed with a new book? He’ll get the author to sign a special edition. She loves a movie? He manages to get a tour of the set and one of the original scripts (especially as an inside joke that she’s the one reading scripts now). She loves the 70s? He throws her a birthday party with a 70s theme. She wants to spend the night in cuddling? He’s more than happy to wrap her in a blanket and have her lay on top of him for the rest of the evening.

He’d just be that type of boyfriend

This!!!!! Although I despise how bad the 50 shades of Grey series is written, I think he's kind of like Christian in that he will buy her whatever she wants because it's the easiest way he knows how to make her happy.

Mentions a pool party for her birthday? He rents a yatch. Offhandedly says she loves Ryan Reynolds, he introduces them. Stares a little too hard at a pretty dress? He buys one in every color.

You're so spot on anon!

[ga-yuu]

[Bite On The Finger As A Sign Of Friendship] - Gilbert Normal Story

With the determination that I have gathered and made, I knock on Prince Gilbert's room where he's staying as a guest.

The owner of the room instantly opened the door.

Gilbert: "....Little bunny, didn't think you'd come to see me in the middle of the night?"

Gilbert: "Are you perhaps secretly a night crawler?"

Emma: "Wrong!"

(....He smells like roses. Maybe he just had a bath.)

His black-glossy hair is slightly damp and his skin peeking through his shirt makes him look....hot.

The view looked so good that I cannot look away.

(I know I shouldn't have come here in the middle of the night)

(But I can't turn back now, because...I won't be able to sleep if I don't do this)

Emma: "May I have a little bit of your time?"

Gilbert: "Why little? You can stay here as much as you want."

Prince Gilbert shakes his head and opens the door wide enough for me.

I instead, pulled the rolling tray I brought along with me.

Emma: "This is for you."

Gilbert: "........"

On top row of the tray, was a plate filled with cookies that I prepared.

I made more than 100 cookies without thinking.

Prince Gilbert froze for a moment.

Emma: "....Do you not like sweets?"

(I thought you liked to eat because you had an unbelievable amount of food at breakfast...)

Maybe I was wrong and he was only eating them because he didn't want anything to go to waste.

Gilbert: "What's that for?"

Emma: "....Thank you."

Gilbert: "Hmm...?"

Emma: "Looks like I've gone the extra mile, I'm taking it back!"

As I tried to go back with the rolling tray, a cane blocked my path.

Gilbert: "Bold of you to take back the gift you brought for me."

Emma: "....So, you will take it?"

Gilbert: "Of course. I was hungry anyway."

With hesitation, Prince Gilbert picks up a cookie and puts it in his mouth.

The expression on his face seemed bright and innocent and didn't give the vibe of a Trampling Beast.

(...You look so happy)

(I was hesitant at first, but I'm glad that I came)

Emma: "Thank you very much for protecting me today."

Emma: "....Then..."

Gilbert: "Little bunny, you like tea, don't you?"

Emma: "...Umm.."

Gilbert: "You do right?"

Emma: ".....................Yes."

Gilbert: "Come inside and wait."

Emma: "No, I don't mean to interrupt your privacy..."

Gilbert: "You will come inside and wait....right?"

Emma: "................................Yes."

Prince Gilbert pulls both me and the tray inside his room.

Meanwhile, the owner of the room leaves humming happily.

(W-What should I do now?)

I stand in the corner of the room like a statue and it felt like there is no sign of him coming back anytime soon.

I looked around the room and noticed a certain black book on the table.

(That's..)

-----FLASHBACK-----

Gilbert: "Ah...Aren't you into this book lately?"

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(....Even Prince Gilbert is reading it)

I stood in front of the table and looked at the black book whose title was printed in golden letters.

It was a book that was also in my bookstore, which my employer bought from traveling around the world.

I don't know where it was published, but it seems to be the work of an up-and-coming author.

The story is characterized by a realistic atmosphere in which the games played on the Court are elaborate.

(I don't think I want to read it again and again because of the realistic depiction of the darkness in people's hearts)

(It's cool to have a heroine who maintains her noble convictions no matter what kind of scheming she's subjected to)

The strength to face the mightly evil with a pure and innocent heart.

It is very different from me who cowers in front of Prince Gilbert. (At least you're doing your best!)

(....Oh, if you look closely, this is a sequel!)

???: "You can keep it if you want."

Emma: "!?"

A cold breath touches my ear and I jump.

I turned around reflexively and saw a fresh smile.

Gilbert: "You always wanted to read it, right?"

(I'm less and less surprised that Prince Gilbert can read my mind)

Emma: "Can I?"

Gilbert: "Of course. It's a popular book in my home country."

Emma: "Oh...Wait, it's from Obsidian!?"

Gilbert: "Mm. You didn't know?"

Emma: "Yes....I didn't think there would be an Obsidian book in Rhodolite."

Gilbert: "Rhodolite forbids imports from Obsidian."

Gilbert: "But books aren't a restricted item. They're just hard to get, so it's not illegal for them to be out here."

(....That's good)

Cowering my shoulders, Prince Gilbert begins to arrange the tea set on the table.

(I was so preoccupied with books, but----)

Emma: "Do you usually have tea at this time?"

Gilbert: "Yes, you can't have sweets with a nice tea, right?"(Even in his game everyone wants to have tea in the middle of the night!)

(Oh shit, I didn't think that far ahead)

Emma: "Sorry! Let me make it for you!"

Gilbert: "Don't worry. I'm not going to poison you or anything."

Emma: "That's not why I offered to help!"

He sets two teacups for both me and him.

(Having a prince of such a great nation to prepare tea for you is a little....!)

Emma: "If I can't help you, let's at least call a maid."

Gilbert: "Oh, I don't like it when other people take care of me."

Gilbert: "So much so that I didn't bring any servants from Obsidian."

(...That's really unusual for a member of a royal family)

Prince Gilbert proceeded to make the tea, ignoring me who is flustered.

Without any help, I found myself with a cup of sweet-smelling tea.

(When this happens, I have no choice but to do what I can to help)

To make amends at least, I arranged the cookies on the plate.

And before I knew it, our tea party began.

Prince Gilbert sat on the sofa and gestured towards me to come sit next to him.

Gilbert: "Come here."

Emma: ".....Thank you."

Sitting as far away as possible, Prince Gilbert sips his tea.

I also took a sip to relieve my nerves and was surprised.

Emma: "This is so good...."

Gilbert: "I'm drinking this too, so why would I serve something that tastes bad?"

(Prince Gilbert is so multi-talented)

Gilbert: "....So."

Emma: "Hm...?"

Gilbert: "What's with the sudden change of heart? Earlier this day, you looked at me with contempt when we parted."

(That's....true)

I didn't despise him, but I was wary of him.

I was terrified by the way he did not see people as humans and I closed the door to my heart tightly.

Emma: ".....I just didn't want to be someone who can't even say 'thank you."

Emma: "Even if the people you're dealing with is a prince of an enemy country, even if he doesn't see people as humans....."

Emma: "That's not a good reason to be disrespectful."

Gilbert: "But beasts have no manner according to you, right?"

Emma: "........Well."

(I think it is true that this one is a beast)

(But even so.....he's still a human)

I try very hard to tell him the obvious.

(...If I continue treating him as a beast....I will always remain afraid of Prince Gilbert)

(I'm going to hate myself if that keeps happening)

It's no wonder I can't maintain a minimum level of respect to a prince of an enemy country.

In a sense, it is synonymous with the unreasonableness that 'those with status have the right to do as they please with those below them."

(I won't throw caution to the wind, but that doesn't mean I want to be afraid of everything)

(Because as long as I don't treat him as a 'human', even Prince Gilbert would not treat me as a 'human')

Emma: "This thank you is just for self-satisfaction. I feel good after I told you this."

Emma: "Now I think I can sleep well."

I keep all my thoughts to myself and take another sip of tea.

Perhaps it is a sign of a stronger hunger that I taste more than I did earlier.

Gilbert: "I feel good too. It doesn't hurt to hear you thank me."

Gilbert: "Enough so that I would be willing to protect you while you are in this castle."

Emma: "....I'm sorry, I don't know if I'm happy to hear that or not."

Gilbert: "Fufu...."

Prince Gilbert places his teacup on the table and closes the distance between him and me.

A cool hand rested on my cheek and my heart jumped.

Gilbert: "Are you a little less afraid of me now?"

Emma: "Mm..."

Gilbert: "Even with all this, I still want to get to know you more."

(........)

The glimpse I caught of his face was so sincere that I was momentarily speechless.

I was so stunned that Prince Gilbert lets go of my cheek and picked my hand----

Emma: "Ouch..."

He bit my fingertips and I frowned as hard as I could.

Emma: "Prince Gilbert!"

Gilbert: "I'm happy so I returned the favor."

Emma: "...Why did you bite me?"

Gilbert: "It's my way of showing affection."

(I'm not happy at all...!)

When I pull my hand back in alarm, Prince Gilbert's shoulders shake in a funny way.

(...How strange. It was scarier last time...)

Gilbert: "By the way....my prediction came true didn't it?"

Emma: "Prediction....?"

Emma: "....Ah."

(Prediction.....)

----FLASHBACK-----

Gilbert: "By the end of the day, you'll thank me."

Gibert: "You'll say, 'Thank you for protecting me, Prince Gilbert."

----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(Wait..that means...)

Emma: "...Does that mean you saw this all coming?"

Emma: "Even to the point of me coming to your room?"

I wanted to deny it, but Prince Gilbert shakes his head.

Gilbert: "You're a kind woman. I knew you would come to me with a guilty conscience."

Gilbert: "Yeah, but I didn't expect you to bring me cookies and all though...."

Emma: "......."

(He read all my movements and I was rolling on his palm)

(....Prince Chevalier has excellent foresight, but Prince Gilbert's foresight is no joke. He's equally brilliant....)

Gilbert: "Think about it, little bunny."

Gilbert: "If I've seen it all coming...."

Gilbert: "You must know I'm the one who put you in this situation, right?"

We faced each other.

I tried to conceal my fear.

I made up my mind to do so, but still, a sweat broke out on my cheeks.

Emma: "You said you want to be friends with me..."

Gilbert: "Yes. I want to be friends with you. That's why..."

Gilbert: "I won't let you out of my room tonight."

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Oooooooo ❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

isn't this the most fun question? Here's one from the latest chapter for Spiel ohne Grenzen that's been in the works for. 2.5 years. oh boy.

.

The next row of shelves was physics, according to the little brass sign at the top. Cassian strolled past the As and Bs, got roughly halfway down the row before he felt curiosity get the better of him. Why not? The opportunity was too good to miss – and after all, she’d mentioned her father to Javi, hadn’t she, in public, for everyone to hear.

It wasn’t very covert, of course, but that was fine. Jyn was pretty, political, and a little mysterious. Any spoiled politician’s brat from Havana ought to be curious about someone like her.

The book was surprisingly easy to find. It was a standard textbook and the university kept multiple copies, all hardcover, bound in nondescript beigy-grey linen. Simple red lettering stamped across the cover page, Introduction to Nuclear Physics by Galen Erso and Wolf Yularen, 1975. Introduction, history, the atom, nuclear decay, nuclear fusion, nuclear fission. No frills, no ‘about the authors’ section, but there was a brief dedication on the page opposite the introduction that caught Cassian’s eye. The second one was clearly Yularen’s – For Hertha Yularen – but the first line only read, somewhat cryptically:

For my stardust.

The wife? Possibly, she’d only been killed in ’76. But still, more likely his daughter. Jyn would have been eight or nine at the time.

Stardust, Cassian thought, idly leafing through the pages and remembering the girl’s faded jacket and dusty pants, her untidy hair; the spark in her eyes when he spoke about leaving, hard and bright like flint on metal. Stardust. He could see it, maybe.

WIP ask meme!

[2kkiupdates]

UPDATE: 0.120d

Authors: noildoof (Cat Cemetery, Snowy Village...), Namedude (Violet Galaxy), Nakatsu.

NEW WORLDS

Marble Ruins

Nexus → Marijuana Goddess World → Dark Room → Snowy Pipe Organ → Atlantis → Star Ocean → Rusted City → Strange Plants World → Underground Laboratory → Tesla Garden → Doll House → Cat Cemetery → Snowy Village → Marble Ruins

Reef Maze

Nexus  → Red Streetlight World  → Reef Maze

Vaporwave Mall

Nexus → Ornamental Plains → Drains Theater → Underwater Forest → Stony Buildings → Sugar Road → Graffiti City → Vaporwave Mall

Neon Suburbs

Nexus → Marijuana Goddess World → Dark Room → Snowy Pipe Organ → Atlantis → Star Ocean → Rusted City → Strange Plants World → Underground Laboratory → Tesla Garden → Graffiti City → Chalkboard Playground → Ghost Town → Monochrome Mansion → Monochrome School → Neon Suburbs

Pastel Pools

Nexus → Cipher Keyboard → Spaceship → Pastel Pools

Animal Heaven

Nexus → Cipher Keyboard → Spaceship → Pastel Pools → Animal Heaven

Pierside Residence

Nexus → Marijuana Goddess World → Dark Room → Snowy Pipe Organ → Atlantis → Star Ocean → Rusted City → Strange Plants World → Underground Laboratory → Tesla Garden → Pierside Residence

Tunnel Town

Nexus → Marijuana Goddess World → Dark Room → Snowy Pipe Organ → Atlantis → Star Ocean → Rusted City → Strange Plants World → Underground Laboratory → Tesla Garden → Pierside Residence → Tunnel Town

MAP CHANGES

Added the Backstage Room in the Theatre in Snowy Fields.

Added a new warp to Red Streetlight World.

Added a new warp to Monochrome School

Added a new warp to Flo’s Shop in Graffity City

Added a new room to the Spaceship, and added a new warp there.

Removed the construction signs in Tesla Garden’s Industrial Waterfront, and added a new map.

Added a door that acts as a shortcut from the bottom to the top of the Industrial Waterfront.

Added a new unlockable one-way shortcut to Marble Ruins from the Library (blue book, bottom row, next to the stairs).

BUG FIXES

Fixed two bugs in Violet Galaxy related to the Penguin and Chainsaw effects.

Fixed a bug that causes the game to freeze when moving from Bishop Cathedral to Board Game Islands after obtaining a banana.

Fixed wall collision in Bishop Cathedral.

The Bat effect warp in Board Game Islands is now blocked under specific conditions.

Fixed a bug in Blue House Road when chainsawing NPCs.

Fixed a bug in T-Folk World and Crazed Faces Maze that causes the player to be stuck after entering MAP1445.

Fixed a missing sound effect when entering Horror Maze.

Fixed an issue with the process in Abandoned Grounds when chainsawing large NPCs.

OTHER

Added tracks 226C, 241D, 281F, 284F, 297G, 318D, 369B, 384C, 398G, 438C, 491D, 561B, 610, 611, 612, and 613 to the Sound Room.

[ladylooch]

After all the Liv and Timo angst can we get a cute moment between them?

After brunch, Timo and Liv walk back to her apartment. As they do so, they walk past a smaller, independent book store that has her novel front and center.

“Baby!” Timo exclaims, stopping her. He turns her shoulders so she can see her book displayed proudly in the middle of other reputable authors.

“Oh my god!” She gasps, forcing her hands on her mouth. “Wow, that’s me!” She touches the window softly over the cover she’s been curating for weeks. It’s emerald, with white and gold accents. She is giddy.

“We should go buy one, eh?”

“You got a copy at the event.” Liv reminds her dad.

“Yeah, but we need to buy one.” He ushers her towards the door. They go inside, smiling at the store keeper. “Thank you for putting her book in front!” Timo grins. “We are so excited to see it.”

“Oh! We have already sold most of our stock! I have more on order. The only ones left are those in the window.”

“Really?!” Liv can barely believe it. She hugs her dad excitedly.

“Well, you’re going to have one less.” Timo murmurs. Liv and him walk together to the window. He grabs one, then proudly buys it at the cash register, bragging about how incredible his daughter is to a stranger. “Do you have a pen?” He asks, grabbing the book off the counter. Liv watches as her dad turns to her, pen in hand book open to the inside cover. “I need a signed copy.”  Liv closes her eyes in joy, then smiles widely at her dad. 

“Okay.” She pauses, contemplating, then scribbles in the loopy, feminine handwriting that she perfected in high school. 

To the first man who ever loved me- Thank you for loving me the most, even on the days it was hard. I'm so lucky you're my dad. I love you, Livy Girl. 

Timo takes the book back, misting at the words.

“Livy.” He wraps his arms around her shoulders. He tries to hide the quiver in his voice, but can’t. He kisses the top of her head. “I am so proud of you, baby. There is nothing you can’t do. This is just the beginning for you. I can’t wait to watch more of your dreams come true.”

He knows he almost lost his front row seat to her life.

He’s never going to jeopardize that again.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 9

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.💚💚.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖞 in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione explained a plan to me that I had seen in my visions. I listened patiently, fiddling with my fingers. When she finished, I questioned her under my breath.

"Do you know how many rules that's going to break? Some of those ingredients are going to have to be taken from Snape's private storage!" That was the part that I was feeling the most apprehensive about. I really, really hated the idea of stealing from Snape.

We couldn't talk anymore so Hermione didn't answer my questions. Lockhart had hauled Harry to the front of the classroom. He had Harry play the characters or the Magical Creatures (I refused to call them monsters as that would go against everything I believed) that he was trying to cure. Right now, Harry was playing the Werewolf. I looked on in boredom and amusement.

"Nice loud howl, Harry." Lockhart said, motioning with his fingers for Harry to howl louder.

Harry gave a loud howl, his cheeks turning bright red from humiliation. I bit the palm of my hand to keep from bursting out laughing. I could already see the Slytherins in the corner of the room dissolving into giggles- not trying to be quiet. Seamus and Dean were having a hard time keeping straight faces in the front row.

"-exactly-and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced- and like this-" Lockhart jumped up and landed on top of Harry. Harry's mouth shaped into an o like he'd had the breath knocked out of him. I winced. "-slammed him to the floor- thus- with one hand, I managed to hold him down-" His hand went down on Harry's chest. "-with my other, I put my wand to his throat- I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm- he let out a piteous moan- go on, Harry-"

The moan that Harry let out was certainly one to pity and it also pushed me over my self-control. I dissolved into giggles, managing to keep them silent which only made them worse. Tears leaked out of my eyes and I quickly put my head down on the desk.

"-higher than that." Lockhart said disapprovingly.

Harry made another attempt at the sound. It was definitely higher. Ron also dissolved into laughter. Even Hermione was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"-good- the fur vanished- the fangs shrank- and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective- and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks." Lockhart said, standing up and helping Harry up.

The bell rang and I quickly wiped my eyes so that Harry didn't know I'd been laughing.

"Homework- compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed Copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

"I'd rather have an actual grade." I muttered, my good mood from Harry's performance gone.

Harry returned to the back of the room. Hermione had the permission slip out hidden behind her stack of books. Ron was standing up, facing his back towards us. I felt my anxiety heighten for no reason.

"Ready?" Harry muttered. I shook my head slightly.

"Wait till everyone's gone." Hermione muttered. "All right. . ."

She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand. Like in Myrtle's bathroom, Harry and Ron followed her and I hung back near the back of the classroom.

"Er- Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to- to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the book slip. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it- I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms-"

It was a good argument if you looked at it from a logical standpoint. Of course, I'm sure he wouldn't even look at the name of the book.

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls. Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?" Lockhart said, taking the slip from her.

"No." I muttered under my breath. Actually, it was a good book. He was a talented person. I just didn't like how he'd portrayed me in the newspapers. That was what I was mad about. His books were really good if I could look at them from a non-biased point of view.

Oh and his attitude of course.

"Oh, yes." Hermione said eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer-"

I agreed- silently.

Lockhart interrupted her again. "Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help." Lockhart said in a warm voice. I smoldered at that statement.

"Yes, nice isn't it?" Lockhart said suddenly, addressing this comment to Ron. I couldn't see his face so I looked to see what they were talking about. "I usually save it for book-signings." Oh, his peacock quill. It was very nice. I wish I could feel that I could afford one, but they were so expensive, nearly 25 gallons for a freaking quill! Okay, I could afford one but it wasn't as though I would use it! Not in the classroom anyways.

"So Harry." Lockhart said, giving the slip back to Hermione. I watched her fold the note clumsily and stuff it back into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players. . ."

Lockhart had been asked to join the National Squad? Really! That was amazing. I smarted a little that he thought Harry was a less able player. Harry was a very talented Quidditch player, much more talented than I could ever hope to be. He was the youngest Seeker in nearly 100 years! Pride filled me for a second.

Harry made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat and I left the room, the other three following me.

"I don't believe it." Harry said once Lockhart was out of earshot, "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless git. But who cares, we've got what we needed-" Ron was suddenly interrupted by Hermione.

"He is not a brainless git." Her voice had gone up about seven octaves.

"Just because he said you were the best student of the year-" I started angrily and then we dropped our voices as we entered the library.

Madam Pince, the librarian often stalked around the library, looking for those doing magic or talking too loudly. She was an irritable woman but I thought she was handsome. She had flawless skin with thin cheeks so that her cheekbones showed. She rarely smiled, though when she did, she looked quite beautiful. She always wore the same green cloak and hat.

"Moste Potente Potions?" Madam Pince questioned, reading off the slip that Hermione was holding out. She tried to take it, but Hermione wouldn't let go. I frowned.

"I was wondering if I could keep it." She said breathlessly.

"Oh for Merlin's sake." I snapped and pulled it out of Hermione's grasp and handed it to Madam Pince. Hermione glared at me and I said, "We can easily get you another one. I'm sure he keeps a stack of signed photos in his pocket." I shot a look at Harry who grinned.

Madam Pince held the signature up to the light, probably trying to figure out if Lockhart's signature was good enough. She stalked off to go get the book and came back with a large, old book. It had a moldy look to it and I wrinkled my nose. Books shouldn't look like that. Hermione took it carefully and put it in her bag.

We left the library after that and we were in Myrtle's bathroom five minutes later. The four of us crowded around the book while Hermione flipped through it. There was a very good reason that this book was in the restricted section. There were disgusting illustrations that looked painful and gruesome.

"Here it is." Hermione said with an excited voice and stopped flipping through the pages. I leaned over her shoulder to get a better look at the ingredients, though I knew what most of them would contain.

"This is one of the most complicated potions I've ever seen." Hermione's voice had lost its excitement. I nodded solemnly next to her. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass. Well they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves. . . Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn- don't know where we're going to get that- shredded skin of a boomslang- that'll be tricky, too- and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."

"Excuse me?" Ron said sharply, "What D'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it-"

I giggled.

Hermione continued on. "We don't have to worry about that, though, because we add those bits last. . ."

Unperturbed, Ron turned to Harry and me, speechless. Harry spoke then, "D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea. . ."

Hermione shut the book with a snap, a strange glimmering look in her eyes. "Well if you three are going to chicken out, fine." Bright patches appeared on her cheeks. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in-"

I stared at her in shock, "When did I say I was chickening out!" My voice climbed three octaves. "I don't chicken out."

"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules." Ron said, also in a state of shock, "All right, we'll do it. But no toenails, okay?"

I giggled again, feeling just a little lighter with Ron's humor. So that was what was worrying Ron the most- toenails.

"How long will it take to make, anyway?" Harry asked as Hermione happily opened the book up again.

"Well since the fluxweed has got to picked at the full moon-" Hermione started but I interrupted.

"I can get the fluxweed at full moon. There's a load of patches out in the Forbidden Forest. If you let me borrow the invisibility cloak Harry, I can get enough."

"That sounds like a plan." Harry and Hermione said together. Then, Hermione continued, "the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days. . .I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."

"A month!" Ron exclaimed. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously and he quickly added, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."

Ron had a simpler plan though. As Hermione went to go see if there was anyone in the hallway, he whispered to Harry, "It'll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow."

I laughed again.

.💚💚.

𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖉 of going to bed, I snuck through the castle, always double checking to make sure I wasn't being followed, and hurried out to the forest. I walked with a purpose, once I knew no one was following me, and made my way to where I knew the Centaurs would be gathering tonight.

I saw them in the moonlight, standing in a circle, talking. I stayed behind, not wanting to interrupt, and I climbed a tree to overhear what was going in. Sometimes, I interjected and spoke and that was when they knew I was there. Sometimes, they were in heated debates about humans and I would leave without making an noise.

It was freezing cold, considering it was November and once I was safely in the crook of the tree, I pulled my cloak around me. Then, I listened to what was being said below.

". . . Bane." Firenze was finishing off his sentence. He didn't sound angry- yet- but he sounded frustrated.

"We should not be sharing out knowledge with the humans." Bane said, rearing on his hind legs and kicking his front legs in anger. "You are setting yourself against the heavens, Firenze, by continuing to talk to the Kane girl."

I felt my heart plummet. I should leave. The Centaurs all knew that I stayed in the trees. They'd know soon that I was here, if they were looking.

"Since when has sharing knowledge ever been a danger to us!" Firenze thundered angrily. "The girl is the smartest of her type, and you know it even if you don't like it. And would you want to stop conversing with Hagrid? The human who protects the forest? Not every human is as terrible as you want to make them out to be Bane."

Bane opened his mouth to retort but then Ronan stepped in, "Bane, you must consider that the girl is not sharing her knowledge with anyone. It is for her and her only. She simply has a thirst for knowledge that we've never seen in any other human. The planets have not said that she is a hindrance or a danger to our community. I believe, personally, that her opinions enlighten us as well- share in knowledge, perhaps we could call it."

I felt a little bit of relief in my chest. While only Ronan and Firenze had said anything in defense, I still felt that it was better than nothing. I wondered how the others felt.

A large centaur, Ivagio, spoke next. He was a lovely brown color with large amber eyes and dreadlocks. "I have never found a danger with the Kane girl nor Hagrid. Both are a joy to the forest. I understand the concern of our knowledge, Bane, I do, but we've always conversed our ideas with Hagrid. You even did so last year, telling Hagrid that Mars was bright."

"Hagrid is kind, caring man." Bane spat. "But he also does not know the true meaning behind Mars being so bright. He does not realize-"

I interrupted. "He does not realize that Harry is going to die."

The centaurs went silent, looking up. Bane kicked his back legs, perhaps in frustration or anger. I doubted that he was embarrassed though.

"Elizabeth Kane." Firenze said giving me an almost smile, "Welcome back."

"Indeed." Ivagio said, "Welcome back. You've been gone long, though I must admit with this sort of reception, I do not blame you."

I shook my head and smiled. "I only stayed away so as not to intrude. Though I've had multiple invitations to come back, so I decided tonight would be a night to come."

Bane shot Firenze a look, pawing the ground with his hoof. Firenze was, indeed, the only one to invite me back, but this way it sounded like multiple Centaurs had wanted me back.

I dropped down from the tree. I was now at the mercy of the Centaurs, and they all knew it. I had no defense and no height.

I bowed just slightly and then said, "I will be heading back to the castle tonight so that you can continue your conversation. It's an important one, I do understand, and I will not give my input for this conversation since it's a biased opinion."

I gave them a small smile, turned, and walked away from them, and made my way up to the castle. I felt much better once I collapsed into bed. I was going to have to wake up early for Harry's game tomorrow. Hopefully, he would knock Draco off his broom- that would certainly be fun to see.

⬅️➡️

[acespaceacepilot]

Genuinely the academia fic makes me want to read every poem you cited!! Oh my god. Obviously I looked up Staying Quiet and I had a moment of stunned silence and wonder that you specifically knew the poem and exactly where it would be at home. Insane. Also reminded me of other great academia AUs in that now I almost want to write my english lit end of semester essays, thank you for the motivation. Anyway I'm here and not in the AO3 comment section because in the author's note at the start you mentioned having planned out what the characters would be doing and since you were on point with what you showed I am so so curious what else you've got for this setting 👀 in any case thank you so much <3

up top, thank you so much!! amongst my friends, i am a known poetry heaux. i go to poetry readings and feel my feelings; my partner got me a necklace that's engraved with a buddy wakefield quote. i have one of his collections signed to me. i fucking Love poetry.

hieu minh nguyen is one of my personal favorites and something was pinging around in my skull being like "hey! listen! there's a poem from them that perfectly fits astarion!" it fell Perfectly into place, shout out to my adhd background thoughts that were So Sure that hieu minh nguyen's poem should be there.

i'm going to put the rest below the cut, because. i have A Lot of thoughts and feelings

let's start with what i directly used in all my visions converted to blurs:

wyll is a low-rung english professor at a state school when he Could be at an ivy league bc of his dad’s nepotism. but wyll doesn't want a position his dad gets him, obvi. i want wyll to want to be out of his father's shadow, damn it.

(ulder is dean of a business school at an ivy league in my mind. it just fits. as a person with an english/linguistics degree: ulder ravengard has hella business major energy.)

astarion has taken a year or four off from school at this point. i hinted at substance abuse being the main reason that it's taken him so long to graduate from the law program? when he was the same age as his classmates, i think he partied A Lot and ended up having to retake some classes during his undergrad. i think i landed on coke being his chosen vice? idk it's vague for a reason. he's trying to get his life back on track

wyll and gale share an office space.

now here's what i left on the cutting room floor:

astarion is Still older than wyll, but not by more than six years

mizora is head of the english department. wyll has to play nice bc he's waiting to defend his dissertation and she'll be on the panel. she uses this to push her work or responsibilities onto wyll

lae'zel is doing her doctorate in anthropology/paleoanthropology. she's researching ancient war strategies and how social norms impacted them.

minthara is lae'zel's advisor because they'd have a Great dynamic. she specializes in biological anthropology. she can ball park which century any given human skull comes from.

shadowheart is working on her doctorate of psychology and specifically writing her dissertation profiling the susceptibility of cult victims mixed with religious studies to compile information about modern worship

1000000000% there are rumors about shadowheart's personal experience with cults. people say she goes by shadowheart so the cult she escaped from can't find her. she's heard every joke in the book about midsommar. there's some frat boy in the greek row that swears up and down that she bit his buddy hard enough to draw blood when they hooked up.

halsin and jaheira do ecology and agriculture, respectively. environmental sciences people. they both have tenure. halsin runs an internship for wetland management in the summer. jaheira is like a leading expert in soil science.

jaheira told mizora she was a bitch during a whole university department head meeting once and that's why halsin's the department head now.

minsc is literally just a coach. he does not teach Any classes and hangs out with the university's mascot Constantly. he coaches rugby and crew in the summer, basketball in the winter.

gale is a double discipline professor for history and cultural anthropology. So Close to getting tenure. his rate my professor score is mid as hell bc students either love or hate him because boy does this man drone onnnnnnnnnn

he's been on like four different digs in egypt and will talk about them at length but does that thing of "my second time in cairo. wait.... no. it was my Third time in cairo."

i posted this on twitter, but here's the couch lore: the couch in their office is a hand me down from gale's apartment because tara scratched it to hell on the corner of the armrests + the reason why the couch doesn't have any throw pillows is because gale didn't want to be tempted to nap and he already has a terrible time maintaining a work life balance

karlach is in sports medicine. she coaches the track team and works with weightlifters that have olympic aspirations. she was good enough to go to the last summer games for weightlifting, but an accident with a treadmill that she doesn't like to talk about prevented her from going.

she still has beef with gortash because he was on the shortlist for open spot availability.

she's Convinced that he's on steroids

[projectcaramel]

Saccharine (6) - Satan x F!Reader x Lucifer

“MC.” You jump as you turn around to see that Lucifer has suddenly appeared behind you; you haven’t even heard his footsteps approach. In the process of jumping, you’ve dropped all of the books you were carrying.  

“Stop doing that!” you protest, shaking yourself as you drop down to the floor to recover the books you lost. “One of these days, you’re going to give me a heart attack!” 

“If I wanted to give you a heart attack,” he says, even as he kneels, and you stare at him as he helps you pick up the library’s novels. “I would have given you one.” He connects eyes with you, and you feel a chill wrack up and down your body at the sight of his dark crimson gaze. You never thought those eyes would be looking at anyone but Diavolo. 

“You’re scary sometimes,” you grumble as you take back the books Lucifer has picked up. However, that isn’t the only thing he’s handing you—with the books, he’s also handed you a neatly folded piece of paper. “What’s this?” 

“Open it,” he says, and you give him your best annoyed look as you set the books down yet again and unfold the note. You understand at once why he didn’t just tell you what it was. 

EN 9030, SC:I 

Authorization: Prince Diavolo; Lucifer

Location: 0511 Meriner Hall

Time: 17:00 Wednesday, 7 Sept 20XX

Method: TBD

You’re well-versed enough in Devildom law to recognize the code at the top of the document—it’s an execution notice. And the SC... Special Circumstances, followed by I... 

Lucifer is inviting you to the otherwise clandestine affair of the death penalty. The fact that he’s handing you this means that not only did he catch the murderer from before, but he’s also gone to the length of getting you a front-row ticket to the murderer’s end. In fact, you might even get to kill the thing with your own two hands. 

“I take it that the Paladire from before was found guilty,” you reply eventually, and Lucifer’s only response is to take the paper and burn it. You aren’t surprised; this is one of the Devildom’s well-kept secrets, and Lucifer of all people isn’t going to let go of it.

“As I was saying, I’d like you to join me for dinner,” Lucifer says, as if you interrupted him mid-conversation. “Hell’s Kitchen. Do not be late.” 

“Right,” you say, though just before you think Lucifer is going to leave, he steps into your personal space and whispers:

“I’m sorry, MC. Truly.” 

—

To your surprise, Lucifer actually takes you out for dinner when you show up at room 511 in the Meriner building. He later explains that the site was never designated on paper in the first place since only you and himself would be attending, and it was better to keep the information to a minimum. 

“So... why dinner?” you ask as the server delivers your food, and Lucifer takes his sweet time drinking his coffee. In the end, you didn’t end up going to Hell’s Kitchen; instead, he had taken you to Cafe Lament (which is pretty much outside your price range).

“I wanted to talk to you beforehand,” he replies, folding his hands together. 

“What, were the documents I signed not enough for you?” you ask dryly as you cut into the meal, and Lucifer surprisingly breaks into a smile. 

“No, it’s not about that. I actually wanted to talk to you about something completely different, if that’s alright.” 

“Well... I mean okay, but why?” 

“Without Annis, we need someone in charge of the library. I realize you’re busy balancing your classes with your assistant work, but we’d like someone capable in charge of RAD’s library. You’re one of the few people who understands such a large place, and not only that, but your magic is wonderful for making sure the books return to their places. We do plan on hiring someone full-time, but until then...” 

“That sounds difficult,” you say carefully. 

“That’s because it is,” Lucifer confirms. “However, I also trust you to take care of it. I know how you feel about books, and I hope you will take good care of them in your predecessor’s absence.” In other words, he’s really not giving you a choice, is he? It isn’t that you don’t want to do it, but...

“...can I at least get some help?”

“I’m sure Satan will be thrilled. I would help you too, if my hands weren’t busy with student council work. I will try to drop in from time to time, but I’m afraid it will be quite irregular.” You find yourself softening a little as he cuts into what appears to be a poison apple tart. So he’s not giving you a choice, but he’s not expecting the impossible of you either. And... maybe he realizes that taking care of Annis’ work is a comfort to you. Something tells you that he does. 

“Thank you, Lucifer,” you say eventually before you eventually take hold of your coffee cup and hesitantly hold it out to him. “I know it’s not a toast, but... To Annis?” 

“To Annis,” he agrees with a gentle smile before he holds up his own cup, letting the ceramic clink together softly before you both take in the marvelous bitterness of the house’s coffee.    

<< Previous | Next >>

[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Asleep In The Keep: A DP x BNHA fic

Summary: Danny goes to the library and learns more about the world along with other stuff :)

Word count: 3407

Chapter 11: Danny is just fine again today

11/?

Over the course of a few days, Danny learned more about the world (you should always visit your local library kids). At first, he wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to learn anything about here since he didn’t know how to read the language. Everyone apparently spoke English, so he wasn’t worried about that, but everything was written in kanji. When Danny first found the library (he had to ask a person who looked at Danny very weirdly), he wasn’t even able to read the sign. He walked down the rows of bookshelves feeling lost, waiting for something to happen. After a while it did. The unfamiliar characters started to bend and shift into English words. Must have been a weird quirk about this dimension.    

He immersed himself into the pages (Jazz would be proud). He learned that quirks were not always around. Years ago, there was a glowing baby and then everyone started getting powers. There was still a small percentage of the population that were quirkless, but that was diminishing with each generation. He also researched how heroes worked and the systems in place. Apparently, you needed a ‘quirk license to freely use your quirk (Danny thought that was unfair). A person needed to go through a lot to become a hero as well, they even had specialized schools for it. Anyone who didn’t go through the proper channels to be a hero but still saved people anyway, were called vigilantes, and were against the law (that may be why the heroes were so cautious around him).    

Danny soon found out why the first guy and many others within the library (he made himself visible there, it would cause more problems for him if people started freaking out about flying books, even in a world with powers) were looking at him so weirdly. He wasn’t even in the world for a week, and he was already famous. It was late one night when he was flying back to the shack (Danny moved into that one after he couldn’t find the first one again), when he saw ‘his’ face on a TV on the side of a building. It was a composite sketch (the features were all wrong, but if you saw him from the distance, they looked similar enough) of one of the members of ‘Phantom’, a vigilante ‘group’ that had been seen around during the Hosu terrorist attacks. Danny could’ve face palmed. At least he wasn’t called Inviso-bill. Since then, he had been wearing a scarf and a hat around his face along with other clothes he had found in the garbage, which he should’ve been doing from the start. Luckily, no one had reported him to the heroes or other authorities (that could be since the story was so new or no one knew what he looked like).    

When he wasn’t in the library, he was out exploring the city. It was nice seeing all the different quirk types and how they affected the city with accommodations. Most doorways were wide and tall to allow those with varying body types to enter unbothered. The world’s technology was a little more advanced than his dimensions, and it was fun to see all the possible upgrades his world would see.    

People seemed a lot happier here, more stress free, Danny guessed that had something to do with the ‘Heroes’ that walked the streets. They made the people feel safe. In truth, Danny was conflicted about them. While doing research, he learned that most people get into the hero business for frame and glory, not out of obligation or desire to save and protect people like him. There were a few that did do that, but they weren’t the ones in top news stories and headlines. Danny was probably just jealous of the support they got. He really couldn’t blame them, he liked it when he was thanked by the people he saved (most of them were hushed thank yous’ from kids as they ran off). One time, the students at Casper High had made a memorial for him with flowers and cards, like he was one of the students. It got destroyed within a week by his parents claiming that ‘the ghost menace manipulated them’, but it was nice while it lasted.   

Despite his harsh view of them, he had to admit they did a good job of keeping people safe, and they’re fights were fun to watch. There was a sense of performance to it, the heroes would draw out the fight as long as they could, to draw in an audience. Most of the daylight crime here were muggers and weren’t much of a threat. Danny wasn’t so naïve to believe that that was all there is. He heard whispers of underground organizations like the League of Villains, who were apparently behind the attack in Hosu, and Shie Hassaikai, which Danny had no info about.    

He wasn’t just sightseeing though. Danny had gotten lost when he explored the world for the first time and could no longer find the portal. He searched for the familiar tug to the portal in Hosu, but Danny couldn’t sense it. It took a while with Danny’s absolute focus, but he was able to track the portal back to Musutafu City, which was a good few hours away.    

During the night after the library closed, he would fly through darkened streets and alleyways, trying to sense its remnants. While doing this he also had stopped quite a few muggings and assaults himself.    

The first time he flew into someone in trouble Danny didn’t hesitate to help. It was the cliche scenario of a mugger with a knife and a woman. She was weeping on the dirty street while the man rummaged through her bag, yelling at her to keep quiet. Danny, still not used to fighting humans, froze the guy's hands together. Unfortunately, he also froze the purse, and the woman was screaming at his sudden appearance and the mugger was cursing because his hands were numb. He started kicking at Danny, which was impressive because the guy’s legs could stretch out and bend like noodles. Danny really didn’t know what to do in this situation and so froze his back foot on the ground, and when the guy tried to stabilize himself from that awkward position, Danny froze the other foot. The result was the guy was doing this weird splits/backbend pose. Everyone was still screaming at him, and the woman was trying to scoot away, but her thigh was cut from the mugger, and so it was like a turtle returning to the sea in terms of speed. Danny was getting overwhelmed by it all and just punched the guy out, melted the ice around his hands (which were turning blue) and gave the woman back her bag. She was still crying but looked really confused. Danny just flew out of there telling the lady to have a good night.    

He’s gotten a lot better after that. A few of the people he saved even asked for a picture with him. Danny tried to decline since he knew it wouldn’t turn out right, and some of them understood, but a lot of them were more persistent about it (like this one high schooler with a lightning bolt in his hair who said he’d trade his unborn child for a picture).    

This of course didn’t stop him in his search, but he did take some breaks to do patrols and help people. Slowly people started getting used to him. On a few occasions, some even tried to give him small snacks from their bag and gifts. Danny declined, but much like the pictures, many were persistent. It felt nice to be accepted.    

He had started getting comfortable here.    

★   

It had been 2 weeks since he had been here, and he still had no luck in finding the portal. He could feel the tare was still there, like a pea under a mattress, he just couldn’t find where. He had gotten it narrowed down to a section of the city, but that was still a huge area to cover. The stress was getting to him. He decided to take a break and focus on something else from this world.   

Now that Danny had the basic knowledge about the world covered, he could get to the more complicated matters, like an identity. Which was a little bit harder. Danny was able to hack into the government servers just fine. Many late-night fights with Technus had forced Danny into learning computer programming and engineering. One time, Technus got physically stuck inside an ecto-infused laptop, Danny had to deconstruct it, beat up Technus, then put it back together. Turns out Danny had a natural gift for machinery. At first, he had to ask Tucker for help getting it back together, but he was so annoyed through the entire process that Danny had studied how to do it alone so he wouldn’t butt in (he still helped with moral support and food rations, of course). Add that with ghost powers and the endless lectures his parents were just drooling to give him (they were mad scientists, but they were still scientists), and Danny could easily hack the government (provided they weren’t aware and ready for an online ghost attack).    

Danny’s backstory was that he was an American who just graduated (he didn’t graduate in his world yet, but he didn’t want to go to another dimension just to be stuck at school) and wanted to visit Japan. A travel VISA was easy enough to forge, and if he ever got in trouble, they wouldn’t be able to look at his records since it was in another country. He hoped.    

The more personal details is what Danny was stumped on. He knew he couldn’t use his real name and instead had used a random name generator. He set the category to American names and hit generate. It had picked the worst options possible, most of them mistranslations or just straight up nouns. Danny had cackled in his seat just pressing the generate button over and over again. He really didn’t care what the name ended up being, he wasn’t going to stay here long after all. It could land on Fredrick Jones for all the difference it made! Finally, it landed on the most normal (but also the most old fashioned) name. ‘Thomas Grundy’. Growing bored of the little game, Danny just accepted his new name with ease and a smirk.    

It was then Danny realized he forgot something. To have an ID, you must have a picture.    

★   

Danny didn’t know how something as simple as a picture of him could get him so anxious. His family loved taking pictures, Jazz and him each had a single baby book full of pictures just from their first year, every occasion was a reason for pictures. They had passed that same habit onto him (in less ferocity). Photos of him and his friends smiling or making funny faces together, were the only ones saved in his phone (that and space or cute dogs he saw on the street). It was easy. But that was back when he was alive.    

Ghosts couldn’t even get their photos taken, not without it being incredibly grainy or the file getting corrupted. Back in Amity, the ghosts called him even more of a freak since his pictures came out the clearest due to his human side (it was still blurry and not at all a good pic, but some ghost would be happy to even have that much). Danny had looked up the ‘group’ Phantom, and the only photos or videos that showed were corrupted and choppy like a ghost’s . It really should stop surprising him every time he notices something different about himself.    

He stared at himself in the ice-mirror he made for himself. Glowing Green eyes reflected back at him. It wasn’t just his powers that changed, he had changed. Before, his ghost form looked a lot more human, if a bit off (another thing that made him a freak). Deadly pale skin, electric eyes and a human smile. If you didn’t know he was a ghost, you would’ve thought he was a very sick child. But now all traces of human were scrubbed away. He gaped at the mirror, not being able to recognize himself. His eyes, which was the most inhuman thing about him before, were still an electric green, but all traces of white had been stained an inky black. But that was only the first to jump out at him. His skin was now dyed a chilling blue, he backed away at the sight of it. He pulled at his face and the skin stretched like putty. When he let go, it bounced back to its original shape. He did this over and over on different parts of his face, but they were all the same. Even his nose stretched. He pulled at his mouth and found the blue had followed inside but his tongue was changed to a neon green instead. When he saw his teeth, they had sharpened, like a predator’s, and there were too many for a human mouth to hold. His face wasn’t the only thing that changed. His stark white hair moved around his head as if not bound by gravity, and between where they moved, he got at peak at his ears, which were now pointed.   

He looked like a ghost . It was as if a pin dropped. Danny clutched the small mirror closer to his face to fully investigate his new self. He moved his head up and down, side to side, to see if it wasn’t just a hallucination. No matter what angle it was, the result was the same. Danny was no longer human…  

But that couldn’t be right. He had to still be human, even a little bit. Danny closed his eyes and reached down into himself trying to find something . The part of him that he could feel that was still alive. It was tiny and silent, but it had to still be there, Danny just needed to wake it up. He looked and looked but could only feel his own ectoplasm. He went so far into himself he felt nauseous. He opened his eyes and was disappointed to see green looking back. He couldn’t do it.   

All his energy left him, like smoke being blown away. He gave up on the new identity. He didn’t even know why he was doing it, honestly. He should be out looking for the portal, but all he was doing was wasting time. He hadn’t even interacted with the world long enough to need an ID or new identity. He was too comfortable here.    

He missed his home. He missed his friends. He missed…   

Danny didn’t know what else he missed .    

He was miserable back in Amity Park. No one liked him. His grades sucked. He had no future. Ghost hunting took everything he could have had away. Danny didn’t know why he wanted to go back.   

Because they need you .   

Do they?     

He knows Valarie was more than capable of defending Amity Park. She had been getting better since Vald started financing her gear again. He even began training her (in both fighting and as an intern for his company) in an attempt to make amends. She was improving with deadly proficiency judging from the lessons Danny eavesdropped on. Besides that, without him, the bad blood between Sam, Tucker and her, could simmer away. He knows Sam and her were friends before high school where they joined different cliches. And Tucker only disliked her because of her hunting Danny. Without him, they’d be able to give her the support they had given him. Maybe she would even be a better friend than he was, give them gadgets and invite them into the fight rather than pushing them away to keep them safe like he had. Even his parents would support a human ghost hunter. Form a truce he never got.     

Maybe Danny should just stay here. There was no longer a place for him to go back to. Danny doesn’t even know how long he’s been gone. It could’ve been years. Everyone has probably moved on. Mourned him for good. And they should! He was dead! Fully this time. Ghosts had no place with humans. It only leaves them more hurt, longing for the spark of life that their counterparts hoarded greedily. If he did go back, how long could he stay? Tucker and Sam were still alive, for now. They would grow up, leave Amity, have families and die. He wouldn’t be able to join them (and he hopes they don’t join him).    

More snow flurried down in the shack and ice cracked around him. He needed to stop this. He didn’t have time to mourn himself right now. He had to make a plan. He had to get home. He had to…   

Danny just wanted someone here with him. He was so sick of being alone. He has been alone for so long now, even before he ended up here. He pushed everyone away and now he finally had no one.    

The gentle snow was thickening into a blizzard, cold and harsh. Danny should be able to feel it around him, feel the chill seep into his bones and redden his nose, but since waking up everything’s been numb. He wants to feel something again, even if it hurts. Danny wanted it to hurt so bad he felt alive again. He wanted to chase it down and grab it by its neck and never let go. He didn’t care if it hurt him. He didn’t care if it hurt anyone . He needed it.    

Realization hit.    

This was obsession.    

Danny had judged the other ghost before for letting it blind them. He thought it was merely a pull to follow a path. But it was much more than that. It was a need . But that didn’t make sense. Danny had been saving people. He had been feeding his core. He shouldn’t be like this, not this soon. What if it wasn’t his obsession lashing out, but his very core.    

Ghosts are very emotional, they are made of emotion. Everything they do is influenced by it. They were like teenagers with underdeveloped prefrontal cortexes. An emotionally unstable ghost was a dangerous ghost, not just to others, but themselves . Sadness is such an addictive emotion, it can drag you down and keep you. But sometimes it can be so soft and gentle, it can take your hand and hold you when no one else will.    

Some ghosts get lost in it. Their forms change and their cores crack from the stress. Danny had seen it happen before with Klemper. During a fight, Klemper kept pleading for a friend, and Danny, as always, refused to listen. It had only been a year after the accident and Danny thought he knew ghosts. That was his mistake. Klemper had shattered right in front of him.    

Danny went to the other ghosts for either support or just an explanation. They weren’t surprised. Klemper had been in decline for a long time. Even if someone had reached out, it would’ve been too late to pull him out. Danny still blamed himself.    

The storm started to lessen as Danny sat defeated on the ground. He laid down, staring into the snow and stars.    

He wasn’t okay .    

For the first time Danny admitted to himself that he wasn’t okay. He hadn’t been okay for a while. Danny had died and was trapped in another dimension, and he had no idea how to get home. He could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes. Danny closed them tight. His brow knitted together, and he let out a choked sound. Then another. And another. He curled into himself as it flooded out, shaking. It climbed up his ribs and tore out his lungs like a broken dam. He cried like a baby.   

The warehouse was filled with the sound of wet sobs and rain.  

He cried for his home.    

He cried for his friends.    

But most importantly, he cried for himself.    

For the things he won’t get to see,    

For the things he won’t get to do,   

For the life he won’t get to have.    

And he cried.  

[mercerislandbooks]

Book Notes: Love Letters for Joy

Happy Pride Month! If you follow us on Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook, you know that we've fallen into June wholeheartedly. Bookseller Nancy designed some awesome Pride t-shirts for us, and we have displays featuring amazing books by queer authors and starring queer characters for all ages. I made it my unintentional mission to read several of the amazing new releases for teen and young adult readers (they were on my list of books I wanted to read, I just so happened to read several in a row, and they're all I've read this month). I've been delighted by all of them. Sometimes I just need to immerse myself in feel-good books that overflow with humor, love, and friendship; these books have an abundance of those necessary ingredients. Love Letters for Joy by Melissa See in particular felt timely—what with graduation season upon us—and was just one such of those perfect, light-hearted reads.

Joy is doing great. She excels at school, is surrounded by loving family and friends, doesn't let her cerebral palsy hold her back, and was just accepted into one of the most prestigious nursing programs in the country. She’s this close to beating out Nathaniel—her years-long academic rival—for the top spot at Caldwell Preparatory Academy; only a few months left of intense studying and she’ll be her school’s first disabled valedictorian. But when everyone around her starts pairing up with the help of Caldwell Cupid and their love letter writing service, she starts to wonder if she may be missing out on an important high school experience. She might be asexual, but that doesn’t mean she can’t find first love, too. When she starts writing to Caldwell Cupid—curious about their formula for romance—she is surprised to feel a connection. At the same time, competitive Nathaniel is becoming more relatable and enjoyable to be around as they spend time together planning the Science Society's elementary school science night. Sparks fly as graduation and the end of their (friendly?) competition draw ever nearer, and first love might not be as far away as she thinks.

With a wonderfully diverse and representative cast of characters, Love Letters for Joy is a look into the struggles of kids (and in my experience, adults) everywhere: where do I fit, what do I want from life, and who are my people? It talks about the importance of acceptance and finding and being a good support system. Most of all, it talks about finding and staying true to yourself. To top it all off, it also has an abundance of Caldwell Cupid's favorite tropes: the meet cute, rivals to lovers, forced proximity, mistaken or withheld identity. If you want a charming, easy read that delves into some serious topics, this is for you. The cherry on top? Scholastic sent us book plates signed by Melissa as part of their "Read with Pride" campaign, so all of our copies are signed!

— Becca

[altheterrible]

17 questions, 17 people

I was tagged in this by @skylarkblue ages ago, finally getting around to doing it.

nickname: my sister calls me Bear, because I used to maul people who were bullying her. Otherwise, most people just call me Al.

sign: aquarius

height: 5′2

last thing i googled: list of SNRIs approved for major depressive disorder

song stuck in head: "KILL EVERYBODY" by Skrillex

number of followers: 1000 ish on this blog, maybe 2500 across all my blogs

amount of sleep: about 5 hours, and that's a good night lol

lucky number: 12

dream job: psychiatric pharmacist for the VA

wearing: ugly gray sweats, hoodie

movies/books that summarize you: Hillbilly Elegy, even though the author turned out to be an idiot. The absolutely true diary of a part time Indian. The Glass Castle.

favorite song: my top song on Spotify two years in a row has been "Violence" by Tristam

favorite instrument: my favorite that I can play is the piano, my favorite to listen to is the cello

aesthetic: middle aged burnout

favorite author: Sherman Alexie, Neil Gaiman, Stephen King

random fun fact: I am cross dominant! This means I am not strictly left or right handed, but a worse 3rd thing.

tagging anyone who wants to do it but i’m going to specifically tag @severinw93 @jivvin @westgateoh

[amiscreations]

Thank you for the tag @de-luxeviolets ! 

Nickname: just Ami!

Sign: Capricorn

Height: 4′11

Last thing I googled: Discogs.com

Song stuck in my head: Slow Ride by Foghat (I'm learning it on bass atm)

Number of followers: idk, I never check on here bc its the only social media where followers do not mattar at all to me

Amount of sleep: anywhere between 3-10 hours lmao, it depends on what I'm doing

Dream job: it honestly changes every year or so, but I think my ultimate dream job would be to create art for bands and films etc, either for marketing or promotion. but right now realistically, I'd love to work in Lush again, I worked there a year ago and it was genuinely the happiest I've been and I miss working there every day. It’s retail tho so there are just no vacancies and the ones that do come up are very competitive where I am lmao

Wearing: my dark blue starry top and my green blue and yellow mandala harems, and ofc lots of random layers under those bc its cOLD😂

Books that summarize you : Coraline by Neil Gaiman, The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R Tolkien

Favorite song: this changes a lot, but one that always comes to mind is Move With Me Slowly by Def Leppard! Some honourable mentions are: Shelter Me by Cinderella, Quicksand Jesus by Skid Row, Stand Up (Kick Love Into Motion) by Def Leppard, Man On The Rocks by Mike Oldfield, We Sink by Of Monsters And Men and lots of others!

Favorite instrument: bass and also maybe cello or harp. I can play bass but not the other two😂

Aesthetic: 70s-80s glam metal, and also hippie/boho

Favorite author: Patrick Ness or Richard Ayoade

Random fun fact: I'm (apparently) distantly related to Bill Wyman, he’s my mum’s third cousin or sth. He most definitely doesn’t know I exist tho😂

Tagging: @mccoys-killer-queen @and-i-want-and-i-need @anotherhitandrun @hungercityhellhound @elliearty @thiswatch-lepparddef-werehi (idk who else to tag lmao and sorry if you've already been tagged a bunch!)