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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 months

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In Between the Bookshelves📚

AU Librarian!Miguel O'Hara x Fem grad student reader

(image isn't mine, found it on Instagram under the account @/ brokenohara and asked for their permission to post it)

Synopsis: a normal trip to the library results in a little bit more than you were expecting when you meet the new librarian on duty. Word count 4.6k

A/N: reposting this new and hopefully improved version of one of my very first Miguel fics I deleted a while back. I tried to make him more awkward and cute🖤🤓. Still not totally confident in the smut but oh well. Writing smut is so hard sometimes? Or maybe my skills have gone down, idk 😫 Hope you enjoy...

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT TOWARDS THE END: FINGERING, ORAL SEX F receiving, Gag(he uses his shirt to muffle your moans) Public sexual activity, talk of anxiety, mention of family troubles and anti-deity/religion language

It's 7:00 pm on a rainy Tuesday night in the middle of October. You just got out of your evening Database Systems class. You can't help but feel poetic as you stroll down the grey, soaked, Manhattan streets twirling your umbrella, hot coffee in a cardboard cup in hand. Your shoulders begin to ache from the thin faux leather straps of your backpack. You're wearing your favorite brown sweater over a short sleeved black dress that hits you mid-thigh, with some holey black tights and your favorite knock-off Doc Martens. Damn, I still need to write that 2 page paper that's due tomorrow..

You decide at the last minute to spend your night at the library. You know you won't get anything done if you go back to your apartment. You spin on your heel and pick up the pace as you head hastily towards the NYIT library in Manhattan.

The library is pretty dead except for a group of three people sitting together in the middle table talking in hushed voices, one woman sitting on the floor scrolling with a laptop, and one jock looking fellow sitting at the computers, cracking his knuckles and bouncing his knee anxiously as he scans his assignment he's typing.

You sit down at the empty table right next to the librarian's desk. Since you're a regular here you recognize Polly, the librarian on duty who is a plump woman who looks to be in her 30s with short curly brown hair, wearing a mustard yellow cardigan and brown corduroy pants tonight. She's stapling papers together and gives you a small nod in acknowledgement as you sit down at the table in front of her desk.

She whispers to you, "I'm actually heading out for the evening, but the new person on duty should be here any minute now if you need any assistance."

You nod, and, speak of the devil, here he comes. You suddenly feel your chest get hot when you lay your eyes on the new librarian.

Tall, dark, and handsome would be the simplest way to define this man's appearance, but that would be a very feeble attempt at doing him justice. Sculpted bicep muscles push against the sleeves of his flannel with the cuffs rolled up halfway on his thick forearms. The flannel is unbuttoned and flaps gently away from his body as he walks, a white t-shirt underneath. He has broad, wide, shoulders and a narrow waist. He's also wearing dark wash athletic jeans and a pair of canvas slip ons. His hair has one stubborn strand in front from his small widow's peak that falls endearingly in the middle of his forehead. His most disarming quality is his eyes. A shade of brown that's earthy and natural like the sediment that decorates stream beds. He wears a stoic expression under large framed glasses.

He nods and mutters a "thank you" to the woman librarian as she shimmies into her coat and leaves. His eyes notice you and latch onto you momentarily. You feel your cheeks grow warm and you turn back to your laptop, unable to resume where you left off, wanting to start a conversation with him but not sure how. After a few painful moments of silence, and a quiet rumble outside from the ongoing rainstorm, you decide to break the ice by telling him your name. He blinks as you tell it to him, and you continue trying to make small talk to try and prod more out of him.

"Have I seen you here before? I come here a lot and I don't think I've met you yet."

"Miguel O'Hara," he answers shortly, but politely. "I'm a grad student. I started working for the university in exchange for assistance with my tuition."

You nod, feeling the heat leave your cheeks a little bit as you realize you could have a normal conversation with this man, and not just be an awkward mess around him the entire time. When he mentions he's a student, you realize you have something in common with him and try to go from there.

"These mid-terms are going to be the death of me. I have just one more paper to turn in then I can finally breathe, thank God..."

Miguel blows a short puff of air out of his nose seemingly in agreement, but doesn't say anything else.

He's quiet. Truth is you are too, and you're stepping way more out of your comfort zone than you normally would. Amazing what a pair of charming brown eyes could do to you.

"Honestly, if I had to work anywhere on campus I'd pick the library too. Seems peaceful with minimal people around, and everyone's required to be quiet by default. The ultimate dream workplace."

Miguel can't figure out why this stranger keeps talking to him, but you brought up a point he feels he needs to clarify.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Most people that come in here are loud and inconsiderate as hell. And there's always that one person who hasn't heard of shocking headphones. Always."

The corner of your mouth raises. "God, that would drive me insane. Being a librarian isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?"

Miguel shakes his head. "No. More like a glorified adult babysitter who knows where the historical fiction section and restrooms are located, and that's about it. That's literally the only two questions I get asked all day." He turns to look at you more fully, this conversation a slight breath of fresh air, the first chance he's gotten in a while to air out his grievances as the night librarian.

He continues, complaining about the horny couples he's had the misfortune of overhearing get busy on the beanbags in the far corner, and the people who leave random drinks and empty chips bags on the shelves and seem to have forgotten what alphabetical order means when they put books back.

You listen to all of it, nodding your head, and let out a cackle at his expressions he's making with those defined, bushy brows of his. He talks with his hands and it's a little endearing to watch him be so animated. This expressive side you've managed to crack through beneath his solemn exterior.

Miguel feels warmth rise in his body at the sound of your laugh for the first time. It's genuine and hearty, and honestly it's funnier than whatever bad quip he just made and he can't help but feel a little more attracted to you after hearing it. You were a good listener, and he appreciated that a lot about you.

You glance at the windows across the room, nodding in its direction with a remark about the weather, how rainstorms are your favorite. He tells you he loves them as well.

Soon, the others have shifted out of the library and he's now sitting in the chair across from you leaning his chin in his hand, listening to you speak as the rain gently pelts the windows outside.

He finds out you're originally from a smaller town, and you came to New York City for college and to escape your overbearing parents. You're 26 years old and trying to finish this Master's degree after taking one too many semesters off. You tell him about your mom who's a bit of a pushover, and your dad who's kind of an asshole.

He tells you he's 29 and has a younger brother who lives on the other side of the city, and his mom is similar to yours. She's kind but tends to set herself on fire to keep her kids warm. Like you, his dad is also a bit of an ass.

You're both introverted, but you can fake it when you need to, which he appreciates, otherwise he never would have been brave enough to say something to you this evening.

You two share a love of education and coffee. You discuss religion.

"I just don't get it, I'm supposed to love this guy and accept Him into my heart because He died for my sins even though I didn't ask Him to do that? But yet if I break any of His rules I get sent to the Inferno for all of eternity?"

"Sounds like a toxic relationship." Miguel quips as he spins your nearly empty coffee cup across the table absentmindedly.

"Exactly!"

You two talk about love as he shuffled some stray books back to their rightful place.

"C'mon, I know you've had to have dated at least once."

Miguel shakes his head. "Well, I did date a girl in high school. Knew her since the 7th grade. But she pretty much ripped my heart out when I saw her making out with one of my buddies on graduation night. I've had a couple dates here and there since then but that's it."

You click your pen. "Damn, so we both have exes from hell that we dated in high school?"

Miguel nods his head. "It would appear we do. I'm sorry you know the pain and annoyance of adolescent heartbreak too."

You shrug your shoulders. "It happens, y'know? It's like one of those things in life you're just meant to experience. It's like, unavoidable you know? And there's nothing you can do about it. What would you call that? Like not a trope per se, but almost like.... destiny?"

Miguel shrugs in return, "Like a canon event?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Yeah... exactly. How'd you come up with that?"

The ghost of a smirk appears on his face, "Just made sense to me, I guess."

You two sit at the table again and he asks about your childhood and you explain that you suffered from anxiety as long as you can remember and he looks at you with sympathetic eyes.

You do your best to try and ignore what feels like his knee pressing against your calf under the table. The thought of touching him sends heat waves through your body, but you remain frozen in place to send the message you're not opposed to more contact. Miguel feels it too, and deep down his leg is falling asleep with the way it's positioned but he's too nervous to move, either.

You both love the nighttime over mornings, and you show him one of your favorite playlists. He smiles at you tenderly as he holds one of the earphones to his ear.

Soon, it's 10:30 pm and he needs to do his closing duties. Luckily, there weren't any patrons who needed his assistance during his whole shift, proving his point earlier. Before he excuses himself, you two sit in silence for the longest time, both trying to gauge if now's the time to say goodbye to one another, but neither of you wanting to actually be the one who does.

Not sure if it was the absence of any light outside, the late hour, the good conversation you two shared, or a combination of all three, but the ripple of attraction you harbored for him has now washed over you completely and morphed into a formidable wave, threatening to take over your whole body, the darkness of this library and persistence of the ongoing storm outside pushing you closer to him.

He's staring at the corner of your laptop, similar feelings ebbing through him, not sure what's got into him. The art of flirting turned itself into uncharted territory for him a longggg time ago.

He finally decided to look at you but you're already looking at him and he snaps his gaze back down onto the bare table below him, silently cursing in his head as a shade of red fluster rises in his cheeks.

You realize you're going to have to be the one to be brave this time again. "Well, this has been fun...."

Miguel scoffs, starting to bounce his leg under the table. "You say that in the most sarcastic tone known to man."

You return with a scoff of your own, adding a smile, "Well I mean, technically you were working this whole time, isn't that boring?"

Miguel shrugs, the heat in his face returning. "You made it more fun..." The volume in his voice decreasing to a murmur.

You look down as well, your heart fluttering in your chest. You really wanted to kiss him. Or just be closer to him, you don't know why. Of course he was cute as hell but after talking to him for hours, there was no denying a spark had formed. You just didn't know whether one or both of you would make the first move to actually do something about it.

Miguel can't believe that he's actually going to try and attempt to ask you to stay longer with him, but he's going to. Just to hang out some more, maybe keep up that amazing conversation you two were sharing just before this. Completely innocent.

Well, if the way the glow from the desk lamp keeps on making your face look so warm and alluring, he's not sure he'll have the strength to shut down any escapades that ensue later, as long as you're completely up for it, of course.

He inhales "Um...so not sure if you have things to do later or..."

You look at him, pupils widening with anticipation at his pending question.

He goes to say, "I was wondering if you wanted to keep hanging out," but it gets combined with the phrase, "Do you want to stay here a little longer," and the word jumbo that exits his mouth is a little incoherent.

"Was wondering if you were wondering to stay and keep hanging longer out?"

You blink rapidly at his blunder, and he groans, placing his face in his hands.

You immediately feel bad for him, shaking your head and sliding a hesitant hand towards his arm. You stumble over your words too sometimes and it's always fucking humiliating when it happens, so you feel no judgement towards him whatsoever. If anything now he's even more attractive. Every little cute thing about him is just pushing you towards him closer than ever before.

Your fingertips skim across the top of the table and press gently into his forearm. He slowly rolls his head to look at you, his cheek resting in his arms as his eyes look at you from behind his glasses which are slightly askew from the way his face is positioned.

His face is still red, but his heart flutters at your sweet smile. "Sorry, my brain just...takes a dump on me when I try to be smooth sometimes..." Miguel mumbles with a weak chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

You shake your head. "I do the same thing...but to answer your question....yes please..." Your voice becomes quieter at the word "please", an trickle of lust you added on purpose, hoping he's picking up on the vibe you're putting down with the way you're gazing into his eyes, your fingers pressed against his arm, the subtle scoot closer you just made with your chair.

Miguel releases a shaky breath, oh, he's paying attention alright. Damn it all if he doesn't take the leap right now. He decides to ask one more time to be sure, slowing down so he gets it right this time.

"Will....you stay longer, with me?" his voice is low, almost a whisper even though it's only the two of you in his dark library, but it's dripping with seduction. A low rumble from the rain clouds interrupts the pause between his question and your answer.

"Yeah..." you say softly back with double affirmation, a sneaky smile forming on your lips. He flashes a dazzling smile back at you, a woozy feeling in his stomach for what's about to happen in the next few minutes.

He excuses himself and goes back to his desk, typing on his computer, the excitement of having you alone making him just type nonsense for the first few moments, wheeling away some carts to the back and stowing a stray book back where it belongs.

It's now 11 pm. Closing time. Miguel turns off all the lights except for his small desk lamp. The clouds are still rolling and rumbling outside with the wind whistling against the windows. Raindrops are still decorating the street. It's a beautifully dark, sensual scene just for the two of you.

He laces his fingers in between yours and leads you to a dark space in between two large bookshelves. His hand is clammy, and he's a little embarrassed about it on the inside but you squeeze it reassuringly. There was literally nothing he could do at this point to make your crush on him go away. The shelves tower over both of you, even Miguel, who's 6 foot 9.

He leans a hand against the shelf just above and to the right of your head. He accidentally pins a piece of your hair under his hand, making you wince a tiny bit.

"Augh.."

Miguel's eyes dart in alarm to search for what he did that caused you pain and he realizes your hair is trapped under his hand. He pulls it away, shaking his hand and flicking his fingers in an effort to free any of your strands from it. "Goddamit...."

He rolls his head backwards in exasperation at his epic failure of having zero game tonight. You hold onto the flaps of his flannel, making him look at you. "Hey, hey come on...it's okay...."

He finally looks down at you and his lips fall open at your beauty, his heart rate speeding up much more quickly now, and he brings a shaky hand to your face. In his mind, he can't help but realize he's being a huge hypocrite, committing the same sins as his horny patrons of getting busy in the library. But seriously though, at least he had the decency to make sure it was after closing when he was off the clock.

You feel your knees go weak as he brings his other hand to your face, pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. He wets his lips and he leans in pressing his tongue gently in the space he opened in your bottom lip, begging to be let in. You oblige immediately, diving forward into his soft lips, goosebumps appearing on your arms.

Oh fuck....this kiss felt good. He forgot how nice it felt to share intimacy with someone, those feelings that laid dormant for so long rising and nearly bubbling past the surface. It's all coming back to him as he just wills himself to get lost in the warmth of your mouth, the sheer layer of your Chapstick leaving a tasty feeling on his tongue.

You considered yourself decently experienced, but the way his lips move on their own show you he's a force to be reckoned with and you'd be more than happy to sit back and let him handle things...this handsome, geeky, sweet librarian...

The noises you two make as you desperately kiss each other are little shuffles as you bump into the shelf behind you, with an occasional "oh fuck...," from Miguel. Hearing how turned on he's getting causes you to let your first moan escape your lips.

Once he hears it, he needs more. His hands make their way to your ass and hoist you up onto an empty bookshelf ladder and he sets you down on one of the rungs. You grab his shirt in your fists, not tearing your lips away from his.

"Do you care about these?" Miguel says softly, out of breath, his mind running a million miles a minute before his actions can catch up to him, gently pinching the thin material of your tights between his thumb and pointer finger as his palms grip the soft flesh of your outer thighs. You shake your head no, wanting to fuck already.

Then, his hand is in your crotch, ripping a whole right in the middle, tearing away at the fabric concealing your ripe pussy away from him as though it's the cover of a brand new novel. His cold pointer finger hooks behind your panties and pulls it to the side. You gasp loudly as you feel his finger and the cold air hit your soaked heat.

He chuckles, his breaths still coming out in rapid, succession, the baritone hum of his voice only adding to the wetness between your legs.

"Sorry, my hands are cold..." Then you can't believe what's happening when he drops to his knees, spreading you open like a book. His elbows pin your knees against the sides of the ladder, the wood pressing painfully into your kneecaps, but the sensation he gives you next makes you forget about the whole thing.

His tongue glosses over your wet pussy like a finger stroking the edge of a page. His nose tickles the tiny hairs sprouting from it as he takes a deep breath in, the smell of you going straight to his cock. He teases the lips of your pussy for a moment, an agonizing back and forth along the slit...

....back....and..... forth

"God....you're so wet..."

Back.....

"Miguel..." you whimper..

and forth...

"Fuck...." your fingers shake as you ball them into a fist...

before his tongue dips into your wet hole. Your back arches on instinct, making your body lurch forward, accidentally pushing his tongue further into you which he welcomes eagerly by gripping low on your ass to hold you in place.

You shudder and twitch violently, throwing your head back at the insanely divine attention he's injecting between your thighs. Miguel pauses for a moment, tenderly licking the inside of your thigh before sealing it with a kiss as his eyes flicker up to you.

"You okay?...." he whispers.

You release a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding, a slightly empty feeling as the mind numbing pleasure was abruptly switched off.

"Yeah, yeah...I'm okay."

Miguel reassumes his position, tongue fucking you. The soft pad of his tongue fondling the plush walls inside you. He lets out a low groan and he feels you turn to putty in his grasp, his head gently bobbing as his tongue completes lap after lap eating you, enjoying you, savoring you....every drop from that pretty pussy soon seeping out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin.

Your moans grow louder than they ever have, plucking him from his pussy-drunk state. He stands up in a panic and rips off his flannel, bunching it up as his eyes do a quick scan to make sure you're both still all alone.

"Shhhh.....baby, we need to be quiet.....bite this for me."

His angelic face comes up to look at you, his forehead pressing tenderly against yours and your eyes go half lidded at the sight of your arousal glistening down his chin, shiny on his thick neck from the thin flickers of moonlight that have managed to leak through the darkened windows of the library.

You do as you're told, biting his flannel and he stuffed it hastily in your mouth, making a makeshift gag as your eyes water. His elbows assume their position pinning your thighs back and he's back between them again.

You understand why he made you a gag as he goes directly for your clit this time. You yelp, your sound muffled by the fabric. Your nails dig into his shoulders, two perfect handles while you ride his face. The material of his shirt is thin and you feel every muscle ripple under your palms as he moves to keep fucking you with his mouth.

Your clit throbs to near overstimulation but Miguel doesn't relent. He swirls his tongue with low sighs of appreciation, unable to tear himself away from the wet heaven in front of his face.

His saliva and your slick mix together until it's all the same. The love you're dripping onto him and the love he's licking into you becoming a lewd stream of passion. He groans into your pussy as his bulging cock begs to relieve itself of all the cum built up with tormenting ache.

He decides he wants to watch you cum. He gets up, replacing his tongue with his thumb and his first two fingers, pumping into you with a circular rhythm and easing your clit at a torturous pace.

"On me, baby...." he whispers.

Your eyes struggle to stay open as you look at him, a little unsure of what he said. "Mmmm?...." You ask with a high pitched sigh.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me..." he repeats, his own eyes going half-lidded from the lure of your mouth hanging open. "Fuck...."

He abandons his plan momentarily as he rips his flannel from your mouth to kiss you again. You invade his mouth with your tongue and he mumbles your name again in response. You start to taste yourself and then whimper when you realize the pleasure is beginning to become too much.

"Miguel," you pant. "Baby, it's so much...." your breaths begin to hyperventilate.

Miguel gives a low sigh when you say his name, his cock straining once more when he realized he drew you to say it. He tilts his head at you, his jaw open and curls into a smile when he sees how crazy he's driving you.

"Cum f'me, baby. Wanna watch you while you do..."

You try to look at a spot on the ceiling but Miguel interrupts your concentration when he moves his head to keep himself in your vision. The spiciness of this sexy encounter banishing all fears he had before. No, he won't let you look at anything else when you cum.

He gives a loud grunt and clasps a hand over your mouth, fingers turning white, muffling your cry of sweet release as you squirt all over his flannel, your passion causing a few books to collapse from the shelf.

You shake and start to shiver all over as the sweat you produced during all the action starts to cool. Your hands are tingly and numb. Miguel gives a soft chuckle and presses a soft kiss into your temple with his wet lips and another one on your mouth before he returns his tongue to your thighs, collecting any remaining arousal left behind.

You rest your head back on the ladder rung behind your head, reeling in your come down. He smiles and plants a kiss into your thigh before bidding it farewell, then comes up and hugs you, nestling you in his tantalizing embrace, as he rests his cheek in your hair.

"Thank you..." you murmur, only barely sobering up from your high, his musk and cologne delivering you to a whole new state of intoxication.

He smiles down at you in response and holds your face in both hands, running his thumbs along your cheeks.

"See me tomorrow?"

You practically melt at those big brown eyes of his, glasses still slightly askew and the neck of his wrinkled shirt dampened with his sweat, silently hoping you will.

You beam up at him and nod enthusiastically and he chuckles and plants a line of kisses on your neck as you giggle underneath him. After a few soft hugs and another round of delicate kisses, he walks you to the door. Making you promise you'll call him as soon as you get home as a reluctant compromise at his uneasiness of you walking alone in the dark.

He watches you walk away into the night and doesn't stop until he sees you safely board the bus. He turns around and goes back inside the library, shutting off his desk light with a small click.

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #spotify #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #Spotify

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life-of-a-rat · 7 months

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Tma/Pokémon AU concepts (+art)

so, people liked the Jmart Pokémon sprites i made, so here's a rough outline of how I think my AU is going to work

it would talk place in a version of Galar, but with 14 (or maybe 15 if i decide to include the extinction) gyms, which focus more on an aesthetic rather than a typing. none of these gyms have leaders, instead just having a bunch of members. these gyms would also probably function as the evil teams of sorts.

Jon and martin are research fellows for a professor (Jonah) in Galar. Jon has a Meowstic and an Absol, Martin has a Galvantula.

prof. Jonah Magnus is jmart's boss and keeps sending them out to study more and more dangerous Pokémon, while secretly preparing to sacrifice Jon to an unspecified legendary Pokémon (i also realized while making this that i don't have a Jonah design)(i'm not sure yet how Elias will play into this, he'd probably be like a failed sacrifice or something)

Sasha works as a librarian at the local trainer school, and often helps to provide resources for Jon and Martin. she has a Yanma, a Zoroark, a Mudsdale, and a Banette.

Tim and Danny (who lives bc fuck you) are ace trainers, specializing in fire and electric-type Pokémon respectively. they have a friendly rivalry with Sasha, and often annoy Jon by randomly challenging him to battles. they provide the actual battling strength to the team. Tim has a Centiskorch, Skeledirge, Volcarona, and a Hisuian Arcanine. his ace is a Talonflame. Danny has an Eelektross, Alolan Raichu, Boltund, and a Dedenne. his ace is a Vikavolt. they also each have an Oricorio of their respective typing.

i have some little doodles and mini-comics I'll post separately, probably tomorrow, but in the meantime feel free to send in asks or suggestions.

#the magnus archives #magnuspod #the magnus archive fanart #tma #tma podcast #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma au #tim stoker #sasha james #danny stoker #pokemon #pokémon #pokeblr #tma pokemon au #Pokémon: Iris AU

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morelikeravenbore · 1 month

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Pandora's Book, part one

🔞 Sebastian Sallow x Book | PART ONE

Unhinged!Sebastian, objectophilia, sexual acts with a (sort of) inanimate object, an exploration of grief and acute loneliness. Seventh year, minor changes to canon.

Warning: explicit content. All characters 18+. Minors do not interact. Reader discretion is advised.

Seeking distraction from his interminable apathy, or a temporary relief from his guilt that didn't resort to obliterating his own memory, the girls he took made him feel good, said pretty things that made him believe, for a while, that he wasn't broken and irredeemable. But then, issues of that nature were likely a job for St Mungos rather than some girl's mouth in the back of a disused classroom, and over time, the thrill of mindlessly fucking his pain away began to dull, and he recoiled from their sweet nothings and gentle affections; like everything else in Sebastian's life, even the flames of desire eventually turned cold, and his escapades became less about feeling better and more about feeling anything.

Still, he couldn't say with any measure of truth that he'd felt anything like this from a book before.

A/N: Erm. I'm not even sure how to introduce this one, but I've had this idea in my head for months now and — well, brain rot. I KNOW it sounds like a crackfic — and it kind of is — but it's also an (unhinged and smutty) exploration of grief. This'll be a multipart story, probably three parts. I'll update as quickly as I can but I'm a turtle writer so please be patient with me. Thanks for reading, fellow unhinged bebes, I luv u.

Word count: 3k

[ao3 | wattpad] ✨ [HL fic masterlist]

The gate is opened, and the night

Rushes across the sky with a shout.

The gate is opened, and the evil

Comes pouring out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ⁺ . ⁺ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

'Oh, shut up, would you?' Sebastian muttered as a particularly vocal book wailed directly in his ear.

Darkness surrounds you... your soul is lost, torn between light and dark, ripped to shreds by your own hand... darkness creeps, ever closer... ever closer...

'Yeah, yeah,' he muttered, pausing just long enough to cast a cursory glance at whichever accursed book was taunting him aloud this time. Ah, of course: Secrets of the Darkest Arts. That one had always been especially antagonistic toward him — even before he'd murdered his uncle.

Rolling his eyes, he gave the offending book a swift two-fingered prod, sliding it deeper into the dark recesses of the shelf it was chained to. It shuddered with indignation — if a book was capable of such a thing — and cursed him so vehemently in Latin he would've been impressed had it not been calling his dead mother a swine.

Unphased, Sebastian scoffed and kept walking, the sound of his footsteps dampened between towering bookshelves as he made his way deeper into the deathly stillness of the library.

To another, perhaps less traumatised sort of person, the idea of inanimate objects giving voice might've been a bit unsettling, but Sebastian was quite used to books shouting at him by now; having spent more time in the Restricted Section than he suspected even the librarian had, their disembodied voices were sometimes the only interaction he got outside of his N.E.W.T classes — that is, if he didn't count Ominis Gaunt, whose insults were often far worse than anything a Dark Arts book could conjure, and who generally addressed him with an equal amount of spite and derision. In fact, Ominis was partly the reason why Sebastian spent so much time alone with a bunch of talking books to begin with: it was one thing for a book to berate you for all your past mistakes, but quite another when it came from your best friend.

No, when it came to facing resentment, Sebastian would sooner bear the brunt of it from some gruesome edition of Magick Moste Evile than see it written clearly across another's face. In fact, there'd been a time when the incorporeal voices of those awful books had enticed him, called out to him like a siren song, drawn him in with promises of power and glory the likes of which he'd never dreamed of. And he, driven by his desperation to free his twin sister from the grips of a dark curse, had immersed himself in their age-browned pages so thoroughly he'd begun to hear their voices in his dreams.

But that was then.

Now, those ghostly whispers, once a comfort to a boy who'd had very little of it in his life, were more like the incessant buzzing of insects, harsh and irritating. He was no longer interested in what secrets they had to offer him: Anne was dead, and nothing in any book would ever bring her back — of that, he was certain.

Stretching up to reach a high shelf, Sebastian slid another misplaced book into its correct place, feeling a sense of pride he seldom felt any more. Being voiceless, this particular book couldn't thank him for his tireless commitment to reorganising the forbidden library, but at least it couldn't offend him, either.

Having nowhere else to go after his classes and homework were done, he'd come to frequent this part of the castle so often that he'd appointed himself as an unofficial librarian of sorts. Judging by the general air of neglect about the place, old Scribner never bothered venturing this deep into the forbidden recesses of the library, so rather than tossing and turning in his bed, Sebastian spent his restless nights bringing some semblance of order to the forsaken space, dusting shelves, repairing book spines, and clearing out the infestations of spiders that'd taken up residence in the darkest corners. It didn't matter if every so often some ancient tome insulted his dead parents or taunted him for his lack of an intact soul, if it was incorrectly catalogued, missing a cover, or simply in need of a good clean, he would diligently set it right again and move on. It was a library, after all, albeit a nefarious one, and it deserved respect.

He was just turning a darkened corner, muttering about the lack of proper organisation and general disregard for the correct cataloguing procedures when something — no, someone — distinctly moaned his name.

Well, that was new.

Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks. In all the time he'd haunted these aisles, he'd never once come across another living soul — at least, none who wasn't made of paper and evil.

Calmly depositing his armful of books onto a nearby desk, he withdrew his wand from his pocket. Not much scared him any more — committing murder and raising the dead made one rather fearless in the face of anything less — but it was apprehension, not fear, that had him casting Homenum Revelio under his breath. This was his peaceful hideaway; he neither wanted to share it nor have it taken away by some meddlesome idiot.

But the spell resounded through the empty library, detecting no living presence besides his own.

He was alone.

Strange. Either Sebastian was officially going mad, or the books were becoming more sentient — for all their moaning, whining and idle threats of bodily harm, none had ever addressed him by name before.

He paused, held his breath, strained his ears.

There! — There it was again, a distinctly feminine voice calling out for him.

s e b a s t i a n... i n e e d y o u...

Swearing under his breath, he followed the spectral call as best he could, his fingers trailing over the dusty shelves as he hurried down the aisle, leaving streaks through the grime that might lead him back should be lose his way.

As desensitised as he was to all thinges evile, some distant part of him wondered whether he might be better off ignoring the call of this one — he was surrounded by evil books, after all, and Sebastian wasn't stupid enough to forget that anything gained from cursed pages demanded something of the reader in return: a sacrifice, some sanity, a little piece of the soul. But the desperation in that voice, the pain — the longing...

'Say it again!'

Whimpering moans, a body squirming beneath his; the cute Ravenclaw had been giving him the eyes for weeks before he'd finally gotten her alone.

'Say it again, or I won't give you what you want.'

Lustful eyes met his — pretty, but he couldn't recall their colour now; they all looked the same after a while.

'I need you,' she whined, grinding her hips against his. 'Sebastian, I need you.'

He was sweating by the time he found it; tucked away in a small side chamber he hadn't gotten around to cleaning yet, and half-hidden behind piles of long-forgotten junk, the voice called to him from an innocuous-looking cabinet in the corner. Its glass panels were thick with dust, but the door opened easily, unobstructed by lock or magic.

Inside, the books weren't chained to their shelves or bound shut with leather straps, nor made of flesh or covered in suspicious-looking stains. They were just — books; plain old inanimate books.

All but one.

He wasn't exactly sure what first drew him to it. Instinct, he supposed, for it bore no title to pique his interest, and the cover was dull and plain, free of any macabre embellishments that usually made restricted books so alluring. But when his gaze settled upon it, the sudden, terrible ache at his separation made him sure this was the one.

Mine.

He snatched it up, clutched it to his chest — laboured breaths mingled with his; the book was panting as hard as he was, sweet, breathy whimpers against his chest — and when he felt a second heartbeat thumping against his own, knew he'd sooner die than ever let it go again.

s e b a s t i a n...

'Yes,' he growled, squeezing it tighter, his grip possessive.

i n e e d y o u...

'I know.'

w a i t e d s o l o n g...

Striding over to a small table against the far wall, he cleared a space amongst the ancient clutter and gently laid the precious tome atop it, stroking the cover with the adoring touch of a lover, tender and gentle. How supple it felt beneath his calloused palms, and strangely warm.

'I've got you,' he breathed, reverently tracing the hardcover edges with his thumbs, his eyes glazed and heavy.

p l e a s e, s e b a s t i a n...

'Please what?' He leaned down as if to whisper in an ear that wasn't there, his breath ghosting the surprisingly pristine pages.

t o u c h m e...

Loneliness had a way of changing people; extroverts became withdrawn, optimists turned cynical. But when that loneliness was the direct result of one's own failings, it withered anything pure that had ever bloomed in a person's psyche, leaving only a wasted garden in its place, a bed of rotting roots.

Once a boy of friendly disposition and bright curiosity, Sebastian's innate optimism had slowly eroded away after every loss that'd darkened his life: his parents, his sister, his uncle, each death a blow to his happiness from which he never recovered, rendering him withdrawn and bitter, a tree lopped well before its time. — But though he might’ve been emotionally damaged beyond repair, but there was certainly nothing wrong with his body.

Sebastian was tall for his age, handsome and broad-shouldered as his father had been, his muscular physique and toned forearms the result of several years playing as the Slytherin Beater. He wasn't ignorant to the way girls looked at him, nor oblivious to the effect he had on them when he flexed his arms or ruffled his hair. And despite his melancholy (or perhaps because of it, as one Slytherin girl had told him), he attracted intimate partners with surprising ease.

When he'd lost all sense of himself under the crushing weight of grief, it was sex that made him feel alive again.

Ever the resourceful Slytherin, he used this inherent charm to his full advantage, setting his sights on only the prettiest girls in his year level, the most unavailable, or the ones too shy to meet his gaze. He revelled in their blushes and giggles when he brushed his hand against theirs, their darkened pupils and parted lips when he finally had them pushed up against a wall or straddling his lap, and soon, Sebastian found himself addicted to the taste of soft lips against his hungry mouth, the flush of goosebumps beneath his demanding touch, slick thighs and flushed skin.

Still, he couldn't say with any measure of truth that he'd felt anything like this from a book before.

Maybe he really had lost his mind.

'Touch you?' He swallowed roughly, fingering the notches of the spine. 'Where?'

s p r e a d m e... t o u c h m e...

With his entire body throbbing with need, Sebastian spread the book open to the middle pages. He ran a slow, measured finger down the length of the inner crease, imagining the soft hollow of a collarbone, the sensitive dip of an inner thigh. But to his immense surprise, his finger did not glide over the smooth paper as he was expecting, but sank in, disappearing into the spine as if he'd breached some concealed opening. Instead of meeting a paper barrier, or even the polished wooden table beneath it, he delved into a strangely wet, yet pleasantly warm depth.

He added another. Sebastian's fingers were thick, but the pages yielded easily to accommodate them, stretching and pulsing around him.

Something inside him roared to life.

'Is this what you want?'

Mingled breath, pretty skin. Snow was falling outside but her body burned against his.

'Yes! Yes, Sebastian, please!'

The resulting moan that fell from the book's lips — pages? — ignited a primal, aching need inside him. Musical and clear, and so deliciously lustful it made his knees tremble, it was the single most beautiful sound Sebastian had ever heard in his life: ethereal and otherworldly, pretty and bright — and yet, somehow, achingly familiar. He slid his fingers deeper, the slip of the unmarred pages like silken bliss against his skin, and when the voice whimpered in approval, he thought of the last girl he'd fucked under the Quidditch stands who'd made very similar noises with his fingers inside her. Sebastian smiled, remembering the way he'd had to hold her up when she came all over his hand, her knees buckling and her mouth agape in a silent scream of bliss.

'Oh, so this what you need, is it?'

Sebastian was grunting now, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he curled his fingers deeper into the pages' soft, wet void.

The empyreal voice only cried out in reply, but the tight, hot opening fluttered around his fingers in that additive way he knew proceeded a mind-shattering orgasm. He smiled again, half-feral with lust as he pawed at his own crotch, roughly stroking the evidence of his depravity that was straining against his breeches.

'I'm going to finger fuck you until you fall to pieces.' He picked up his pace, the veins in his forearm bulging with the exertion of the efforts, his hair falling over his eyes. 'Is that what you want? To be ruined?'

'Sebastian! Sebas— fuck!'

Frantically rocking hips, fingers slippery with desire.

'Do I make you feel good? Do I? — No, look at me when you come!'

Well past the point of no return, Sebastian watched the rhythmic pumping of this fingers with a singular intensity, marveling at the way they slid so easily into the mysterious depths of the book only to come out coated in slick. This was better than any real girl he'd even been with; this was all-encompassing, mind-numbing bliss, each glistening stroke soothing his burdened mind, mending the roots in his ruined garden.

This was magical.

It was some time before a cramp in his hand had Sebastian reluctantly peeling away from the books' lush center— but the pain of their separation was immediate and unbearable. Whimpering, he went immediately for his breeches, his stiff, slippery fingers struggling with his belt and fastenings until, finally, in a half-blind sort of daze, hot and throbbing, he stroked himself with a raw, gutteral cry. The table groaned under his weight as he leaned over it, mimicking the sounds that fell from his ruined throat.

i n e e d y o u...

His hips bucked.

With one knee propped on the table and a pant leg still tangled around one leg, the angle was awkward, uncomfortable, and if he weren't so utterly fucked out of his mind, he might’ve stopped to reconsider, well... everything.

But he couldn't stop. Now now.

Instead, mumbling stupid, unintelligible praises, he managed to angle himself in just the right way to swipe his weeping tip through the deliciously slick cease.

His mind went blank.

There was no warm body to hold onto, no hips to bruise nor neck to sink his teeth into, just an old splintery tabletop and smooth pages — and yet, if he closed his eyes, he could almost envision a trembling, sweat-slicked body beneath him, as warm and needy as any he'd had before.

If somebody were to walk in on him now, hovering half-naked over a book, painfully hard and inarticulate with lust, they'd be hard pressed to make him stop.

At this point, not even a team of Auror's could pry Sebastian cock away from these pages.

They'd have to crucio him to make him stop.

And even then...

Trembling with the effort of holding himself steady, he gingerly probed the spot his fingers had just been enjoying.

He slid in an inch. Then another.

The book shuddered.

His vision blurred.

i n e e d y o u...

'Sebastian, I need you!'

He fell forward, knees buckling, pleading, whimpering — then a voice, maybe his own, maybe the books', let out a garbled, broken cry as he sank into the sweet, tight abyss.

The world narrowed to the euphoric point of connection, and nothing else.

Pleasure, exquisite.

And nothing else.

[part two coming soon]

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow x book

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fubu18writes · 8 months

Text

❧ he never expected the sweet librarian from the college campus who never made eye contact to be in a bar where everyone could see her

♢regular tags: f!reader, college au, reader is a stripper, swearing ♢mature tags: reader is called "bunny", riding, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, doggy position, hair pulling, swearing ♢ all characters are 18+ and above unless stated otherwise

a/n: and the first thing i write here on tumblr is smut... and my first time writing it. also been on a haitani rindou brainrot so yeah, this led to it. i also went for lyric format like back in the wattpad days of song fics, since it'll fit the mood a little bit.

Haitani Rindou only went with Shion and the rest at a bar as a joke and maybe to celebrate because they finished their finals for the first semester.

What he didn't expect was seeing a familiar face on the stage.

You, (l/n) (y/n), the sweet librarian that he always passed by during the morning, afternoon, and nights on both school days and weekends. And from what he seen and heard from everyone who knew you on campus, you weren't the type to make eye contact for long and you preferred being in private.

Yet here you both are. In a private room that Rindou didn't expect this bar to have.

It was awkward, to say the least.

"Didn't know you had a sideline," Rindou tried making conversation, even though it would've make the situation more awkward than it already is.

"It's technically a hobby," You hum, fixing your hair on the vanity, eyeing him in the mirror. You could see his slightly confused expression as he sat on the bed. "A hobby," He repeats. "You're doing this... as a hobby."

Rindou was usually the type to get certain things at a glance or from a simple statement. But with this? And from you, who he thought was timid? He might as well let the world swallow him up.

You face him now, your hair all neat-looking. There was a sly grin on your face at seeing his expression. "What? Is the Haitani Rindou nervous at seeing a fellow classmate in skimpy clothing?"

Rindou would be in denial if he said no, but he wasn't admitting it. After all, who wouldn't be nervous if he saw his classmate, who wore oversized clothes, in a short, purple-colored dress with a zipper at the front? "What makes you think I'm nervous?" He raises an eyebrow at you. "It's just you."

There was a pause before to walked near him at the foot of the bed.

(You don't have to be so cautious If you practice what you preach Counting up the stacks on the counter A fucking disease)

Rindou feigned his nervousness with a blank expression, even if you were sitting on his lap to face him.

"So," Rindou resisted the urge to grab you by the waist. "What made you take this hobby?"

He feigned his nervousness, and somewhat lust starting to cloud in his mind, when you gave a grin. "Who knows? Maybe I want all eyes on me, even if I don't show it."

There was something laced in your tone and Rindou caught on quickly. He let his restraints go off little by little, and he held your waist. "Whose eyes, (y/n)?" He asks in a hushed tone.

"Hmm, maybe yours."

That was the tipping point.

(Don't ask me to be righteous If you practice what you teach Counting all your blessings the second You're down on your knees)

His lips were on yours, the kiss gentle at first before turning into something heated and passionate. His teeth tugged at your lower lip, his tongue sweeping past your lips. It was like the hunger and desire was there already, waiting for so long before finally giving in, leaving you breathless as he pulled away. He only allowed you a single gasp before slating his lips over and over again.

"Wait, wait..." You manage to breathe out once Rindou pulled away. You tug on his shirt, lust filled in your eyes. "Need you to take this off, now."

"Takes one to ask one, bunny." Rindou says with a smirk. You felt yourself clenching onto nothing with the nickname, and he notices your reaction. "Like that, huh? Then I'll mark you up like one."

Clothes were on the ground, leaving you in your black-laced bra and Rindou with his polo shirt. You clenched his dual-colored locks the moment his tongue was against your clit, sending a jolt through your body. His tongue worked its way in and out of your dripping pussy. "Fuck, Rin--" A breathy moan escapes your lips, your thighs squeezing around his head. "Wait, too fast-"

Rindou was just ignoring you, nuzzling his face deeper as the subtle friction against your clit sent another jolt throughout your body. You gripped his hair, pulling him harder against you.

Your breathing quickens, moaning out his name as you felt your climax. You could hear his loud slurping of your slick, and he looked up at you with glossy eyes.

"That's it, I'm makin' sure your eyes are all mine."

(So why, why Don't we get a little high, high?)

It was the younger Haitani's idea to fuck you from behind, your arms on the vanity so you could get a view of yourself in the mirror. His cock was on full-view, and you could only clench your fists as he entered inside you.

"Bet no one fucked you like this, right?" Rindou gripped your hair like how you did with his. "Bet no one's-" He did an experimental thrust, earning a moan from you. "-seen or heard you like this-"

You couldn't say anything coherent. All you could do was babble nonsense along with his name over and over again. You hid your face, which prompted Rindou to pull on your hair, forcing you to look at the mirror.

"Gotta let my bunny know what she looks like-" Rindou hit your sensitive spot. "-being all fucked up like this-"

You could feel your legs trembling again as you were staring at your face in the mirror: Hair disheveled, bra strap loosened. You could even see Rindou's expression, and it showed that he was dead set on making your climax come again.

(Don't we get a little, get a little Don't we get a little high Get a little high, high)

"Fuck, Rin--inside, come inside-!" You started begging. "Want you to fill me up, Rin!"

Another tipping point broke in Rindou that night. "You're mine, got that, bunny?"

"All yours, Rin, all yours-"

"Let 'em hear you say it, bunny."

"I'm yours, all yours--Fuck, Rindou, gonna--!"

"Shit, don't move-" Rindou lets go of your hair now to hold your waist. A low growl escapes his lips, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as the both of you release your climax.

You pant heavily, trying to catch your breath. You turn to look at him. "I'm all yours, m'kay?"

"You fucking tease." Rindou had another smirk on his face. "You took the hobby to make me do this, didn't you?"

You only let out a hum at that. You let out a whine when he pulled out, your pussy dripping with both of your juices. "You're still clenching..." He pulls you close, you facing him once more. "Gonna have to punish you for makin' me wait this long, bunny."

#norrisworks #tokyo revengers #tokyorevengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev smut #haitani rindou #haitani rindou x reader #haitani rindou x reader smut #haitani rindou smut

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fatuismooches · 7 months

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omg omg how would fragile reader use foxtorre in gameplay? idk why the first thing i thought of is reader throwing it at their enemies but they wouldnt do that 😭 im suddenly thinking how their gameplay would be like, their vision, their idles, etc... IF YOU COULD PLEASE MAKE VOICELINES FOR THEM I THINK IT WOULD BE COOL

Fragile reader throws the creature onto the field to do the work for them! Depending on whether their skill is held or tapped, Foxttore will summon multiple little Puffttores that will attack enemies to heal the team or do damage, based on reader’s current HP. Using the skill also consumes a set amount of fragile reader's HP. But using their burst will let them recover HP, as they will steal a certain percentage of HP from their fellow party members. All they want to be is healthy, they can be a little selfish, no? But fragile reader isn’t that mean, they’ll grant the party members who they stole HP from a random buff (ATK, crit rate/dmg, EM, etc) so they can sit back and relax as the others fight for them. And no, they won’t steal HP from Dottore or another Harbinger on the team, that’s their beloved and their friends after all! But they can’t do elemental reactions, they don’t want that horrid thing from Celestia and even if they got one they would refuse to use it. (But I still have hope another element will be added, I cannot see Dottore using a Vision HE BETTER NOT he’s stronger than that 😞)

Their idles include pulling out Foxttore and squeezing it really tightly, and then they suddenly pause for a few seconds as they feel something fuzzy moving inside of their shirt... and then a few small Puffttores jump out of their clothes making them laugh :) Another one, i imagine they carry around a small bag to hold their necessary items (such as medication) but also to bring around a scrapbook they've made with all their memories. Lots of photos and journal entries spanning many years. They pull it out and flip through it, before sighing almost sadly and putting it away again. Their BIS weapon is the same one from centuries ago, Dottore had preserved it for all those years so they could use it once again (not really though because they wobble all over the place if you use their normal attacks)

Hello: "I am [Name]. I doubt I'll be much help to you, but I'm here now. By the way, I won't do anything I don't want to. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with Dottore."

About the Archons: "... Do not mention them in front of me... it makes me sick to my stomach, thinking about the divine. However, there is one exception - the Tsaritsa of course. She is truly the epitome of what a God should be, benevolent and kind. I may not be able to help much, but I will support her until the end. When you meet her, Traveler, I hope you will understand her goals."

About the Illness: "Ah, my sickness... it has plagued me for countless years, laying a horrible curse upon my body and mind. It's... it's been quite difficult sometimes... er, forgive me. It's hard to speak about."

"Oh... to be honest, Paimon always thought you were faking it for the Fatui's goals to some extent."

"... this is why I only confide in Dottore."

About Dottore: "My one and only... words cannot express my tenderness and love toward him. Not once has he given up on me, despite the times I've given up on myself. And he has always taken care of me, not once faltering in over four hundred years. I- I don't know what to do sometimes when faced with that information. I wish I could be... less of a burden on him... *sigh*"

About the Akademiya: "Say, does anything good come out of that school anymore? Hm? You say a brilliant mage graduated from there and is now a librarian? Well, good for her. Who would want to be associated with them anyway? And there's also a doctor who's very sick, searching for the answer to immortality? Well now... how interesting."

About the Past: "You wish to know about my past? Well, there's not too much to say. I was a regular student in the Akademiya before I met Dottore, and we fell in love... we did many things together before I... It's not like it matters anymore, being the way I am now..."

Chat - The Body: “One’s body is extremely important, yet many take it for granted. Please, make sure to treasure and love your body. It does more for you than you could ever imagine.”

Chat - Walks: "I love taking walks. It seems so normal to you but, it brings me great happiness. Especially now... I have not felt the sun caress my body or the soft breeze sweep through my hair for a long, long time. Hm? I don't mind if you come with, but... Dottore will be joining me shortly. Would you like to see him? No? Hehe."

When it Rains: "Oh no... do you have an umbrella? Dottore's going to- a-achoo!- get mad at me for not taking care of myself properly..."

Likes - Dancing: "O-oh. You saw me just now? I was just... practicing. I'm not very good at it, but dancing with Dottore as he twirls me around makes me... happy. I just need to stop tripping and falling over his feet all the time."

Nahida - About You: "You've met the Doctor's spouse? Please, would you enlighten me about them some more? I have always been extremely curious about the kind of person who would capture his attention. Hmm... I see. Still sick, are they? Perhaps Dottore sees something in them that the rest of us cannot. Though, I have to commend their spirit. Being able to wake up every day and face what's in front of them while being afflicted with such a condition... takes a strong will."

#smooches talks #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #playable reader <3 #anon thank you for letting me indulge in my deluluness #if you want other voicelines or ideas please. tell me. i brainrot so hard abt this #also! i feel as though they would also like furina but i didn't include it due to spoilers

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swordsmans · 3 months

Text

There's been a lot going around in the last week or so about fanbinding and concerns from fic authors about binders profiting from their work. I just wanted to clear the air a little around here with some info about my own work just so we're all on the same page.

I will never profit from any fanbound works, including my own. Every book I bind includes a legalese section in the beginning of the typeset stating that it is not for for-profit resale. I do not charge anything for books I choose to bind and gift myself.

I will never sell another author's work even indirectly through commissions. My fanbinding requests are open exclusively to fic authors who want their own fics bound or exceptional cases of a third party who can guarantee a gift copy will make it to the fic author (and, preferably, any interested fic fanartists) with author permission.

I will never sell finished typesets. Ever. No negotiations. If you want a typeset I've already made so that you can bind a copy of the fic for yourself, just ask. My own typesets are available for free to anyone who wants them, and I'm happy to share other typesets to trusted parties as long as I have author permission and a guarantee that they will not be monetized once the typesets leave my hands.

The books and typesets that do end up on my store will always be 1) copies of my own fics; 2) priced free/as low as possible with a "pay what you want" option. I will never put binds of someone else's fics on my store. I will never list a bind of my own for sale that is not also (again) accompanied by a free typeset. This is to ensure that no aspect of the fanwork is behind a paywall (including other artists' fanart) and any money exchanged is exclusively for the physical art of binding.

I have a deep, lifelong love for books. As a librarian, my entire life (both personally and professionally) revolves around free and no-profit access to knowledge and stories. I can't speak for others (especially the assholes on Etsy), but I did not begin binding fanworks with the intent to profit and that still holds true. I have the utmost respect for fic authors as both a fan and a fellow fanwriter, and I'm wildly disappointed that a few bad actors have put such a negative spotlight on a corner of fanart that has always been fundamentally about uplifting and supporting fanfiction and fanwriting at its heart.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

#this has been 'ultra-niche fandom drama from gyro' thanks for tuning in #i try to stay out of pretty much everything but the fact that it is so niche is like... eugh. little waves can do big damage #especially because fanfiction is a fundamentally different beast from fanart in the legal space #so fanart that sits in direct conversation WITH fanfic becomes doubly murky and doubly risky #bookbinding #fanbinding #bad blade bindery #i realize its a huge ask but i am begging people who are new to fandom subculture to be cool for just like two seconds GOD

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local-lesbrarian · 1 year

Text

Yesterday, the board of trustees for the library I work at voted unanimously against banning This Book Is Gay by Juno Dawson! This was a huge relief for me (and my fellow staff), and I just wanted to share a few takeaways from this experience.

For context, a library patron had submitted a formal request to have the book removed after seeing it displayed alongside other recent additions to our YA section. He took issue with, of course, the chapter on sex ed and provided pages of out-of-context quotes and straight-up lies to make the book appear "dangerous." Lots of the homophobia and puritanism you'd expect. Per our policies, we formed a committee to address his request, and the committee decided the book was fine where it was. Again per policy, he had the option to appeal to the board of trustees, which he took.

We found out he was doing this 5 days before the next board meeting. And even with that short warning, we had over 150 people show up to a small-town library board meeting that often has few or no public attendees! We couldn't fit everyone in our biggest room! Look at us all!!

Public comments are limited to 3 minutes or less, and that still lasted for more than an hour. People spoke who were parents, teachers, nurses, therapists, voting activists, workers at other libraries, and of course, many queer people. They talked about censorship, freedom of expression, freedom to read, the positive impacts of this book and books like it on youth, their own experiences as queer kids and teens or parents or such, and more--too many perspectives to list here. Every single speaker opposed the book ban. Every. One.

The patron who initiated this challenge was present, but left before public comment was over, without speaking.

So, those takeaways:

This is further evidence that campaigns of censorship and queer erasure are perpetuated by individuals and small groups, and don't represent the common view. You can check out stats on ala.org to back this up, but most people, including most parents, oppose book bans.

This turnout was gathered mainly through texts, email, chats (like Discord), phone calls, and word of mouth. Every town and city has people willing to fight and support those fighting the tides of fascism--keep in touch with your community and your allies, your local friends and trusted acquaintances, and when the time comes for action, they will show up.

Pushback, especially public, visible pushback, demoralizes bad actors. These are often people with little to do except organize and promote their hatred, often people with few material problems demanding their attention. (In this case, a retired eye doctor.) Give them a fight, and they often back down. If they don't back down, see #2 and beat them with numbers and passion.

Even after a victory, stay alert. We're prepping for litigation (not that we think he has a case, but he does have a reputation). We're also keeping a close eye on the smaller libraries in nearby towns and townships. Even if someone like this backs down once, they might try their luck somewhere easier. Keep those contact networks from #2 ready to go.

None of this is comprehensive, and your particular situation may well require different tactics. I'm not an expert, just a chronically online trans woman and librarian who's gotten unexpectedly attached to her current town. It was incredibly heartwarming to see so many people stand up for queer teens where I live, when it usually feels like nobody cares about what's happening to queers in the States. This post has already gone on longer than I expected, I'm just still quite emotional and wanted to talk about it. (Also still mentally drained from the past few days of stress...)

Huge shoutout to everyone who helped make this community action happen. Many of them were more eloquent or piercing in their comments, but here's my 3-minute spiel. It was delivered with none of the eye contact or dramatic reading I'd rehearsed because, holy shit, there were a lot of people there!

#public libraries #censorship #community action #my words #this book is gay

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kaguyass-houraisan · 29 days

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(They didn't have the Paldea one 😭)

Part 3 in the DC Pokémon AU, please see previous posts for more lore and I'm still open to more help and suggestions

Check the #dc pokemon au for it

These are just things I shit out and maybe someday I'll properly render everything but my design process for these is make them have a color that their typing has as in pink for fairy and blue for water etc.

Very special thank you to @illusionsignmisdirection for the help with this au and all the wonderful suggestions and ideas

Alec:

Alec is the ice type gym leader, he is the 1st gym leader overall. His gym is a library and he is the main librarian. He's planned to be apart of the villain team (known as Team Idol) as their leader so under the gym is the secret base which has those annoying ass ice puzzles we all are too familiar with.. and the gym is on top of an ice mountain because your first task is going to be haul ass up that mountain #absolutely and yes he is divorced and his wife took their son as she should #yup He's the only one with a party decided with a Delibird and Snorunt and his later party as the final team boss is to be decided.

For his design I went with icy librarian man that's literally my thought process and a tattered coat to show age and tired energy

Gabby and Ellie:

Gabby and Ellie are the grass type gym leaders, the second gym leaders overall. It started off as Gabby, but I imagine she had Ellie join her seeing as Ellie is a good battler herself. I like to think they're married or at the very least promised to each other, as see by the matching rings I gave them. They are so in love really... and I like to think Ellie made their outfits for each other (I couldn't pick which Gabby design I liked better so I put both) because I still think she's a fashion designer and probably her job is working at an office or freelance design, as seen w the pencil skirt and flats I gave her. I wanted her to look cute and professional to show that looks can be deceiving because she's also apart of Team Idol and maybe Gabby might be too, depending on what happens in dcas w her and the villains alliance. Gabby is supposed to give whimsical yes, like the most whimsy grass girl ever who waters her flowers and would shoot you if you litter type of shit. I think sometimes Gabby is solo then Ellie takes over other hours or sometimes they both battle together. Gabbys job is probably the city/town gardener, probably sells herbs and healing items that aren't found in Pokémarts

Hunter:

Hunter is the ghost type gym leader, he is the 3rd gym leader overall. I like to think his gym is some kind of abandoned warehouse or some other abandoned place turned ghost rave ! Ally is the DJ and does all the electrical work while Hunter battles challengers and puts on performances with the fellow ghosts roaming around. I based his design on the fact that he should be allowed to wear whatever he wants and the neon glowsticks and bracelets are based on his team colors !! Also the pale face paint and make up bc he's a performer duh and a crinoline with tattered fabric bc he's fancy like that. Didn't wanna add too many skulls bc that's Jake's brand he was the first one move over Hunter and his job really just is performer like he performs all the time for cash and relies on Ally dj money too 😭

Riya:

Riya is the flying type gym leader, she is the fifth gym leader overall. Yes her flying type is because of her assassination attempt on Aiden no one can change me I'm a woman. And also because her with a Bombirdier fits and also an Altaria and Vespiquen, but it's still to be decided. Her design was inspired by sky trainer bodysuits and her shoes height are to reflect her incredible balance and how she's always above everyone else both physically and mentally. I liked adding armor that looks like she's a warrior because let's be real here she is here to WIN. Also gold. She's regal. Love her sm... I think she puts on air show performances and is a celebrity, movie star all over again... like she's so fabulous how can you look away ? Her gym in my head is probably a runway of sorts or movie studio, probably shoots her battling to add into her movies really and yes she's apart of the villain team, she's second in command because why wouldn't she be

Miriam:

(Queen) Miriam is a retired gym leader, she once was the fairy type gym leader, formerly the eighth and last gym leader. Jake now is in her spot and she sometimes visits the gym. She normally is at home baking and providing for the neighboring Pokémon. I like to think her ace is Alcremie cause of obvious reasons and that Jake gifted her a Fidough to keep her company when he's busy at his job and the gym. She has a more bright and "good" aesthetic than Jake, so her gym was more different than his currently is. I like to think she could be challenged later on if this was a game, like post game ! I like to think she also exposed Team Idol and either was kidnapped or just. Roams free who knows. But she's strong and a wise mentor to Jake who helped him calm down a bit so he doesn't destroy everything with his powers when losing.

Other tidbits:

- This is the Tipiskaw Region and it's like side game regions where no new Pokémon are introduced but old ones are available like from previous generations

- The order is:

1st gym: Alec (ice type)

2nd gym: Gabby and Ellie (grass type)

3rd gym: Hunter (ghost type)

4th gym: Connor (steel type)

5th gym: Riya (flying type)

6th gym: James (electric type)

7th gym: Grett (dragon type)

8th gym: Jake (fairy type)

Elite four: Oliver (normal type)

Elite four: Emily (psychic type)

Elite four: Derek (dark type)

Elite four: Trevor (ground type)

Champion: Kristal

- The name of the Villain team is Team Idol, consisting of Leader Alec, second in command Riya, Grett, Yul, Ellie (maybe Gabby) and Fiore and their goal is for complete domination

- Yul is the first fight due to being brash and a show off, many people believe he's the leader of the team because of this and he is a fire type speicalist (also Yul has big beef w James as they are rival idols and both have Oricorio aces)

- Fiore is a NFE specialist (not fully evolved) specialist with Pokémon that just aren't fully evolved yet, but she is still strong in her own right and she trashed Tom's cop car definitely

- Grett is the dragon type specialist and a gym leader herself who later decides to help you the player (Lake and Drew) to stop the team bc she realizes it's wrong and gives the key pass to the secret base she is STRONG

- Also yes Lake is the female MC and despite not being an all star, Drew is the male MC. Lake is the talkative protagonist Drew is the silent protagonist

- Aiden is the friendly rival with legit one Pokémon, that being Pidove and it eventually evolves into a Tranquill and just stops there. Ellie is the hating ass rival, maybe, I think so yeah

- Tom is a police officer and almost a Looker figure as he is constantly going around the region and yes him and Jake had a thing and it's going poorly like in all stars

- Tom will be kidnapped by Team Idol yes, and other shit occurs which the gym leaders (that aren't in on it) have to help save the day

I like to think this is Jake's reaction to the shit storm Ellie throws at him bc she kidnapped Tom:

I'll make another post later on with all the complete details of all the characters and their rolls, I'm primarily focusing on the dcas cast

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certifiedlibraryposts · 8 months

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hey! I’m looking for advice from fellow librarians/library employees. this is a bit lengthy so buckle up

so I work in circ at my local library and I’m fairly new to being a clerk… I enjoy it for the most part but I’ve been finding difficulty in handling agitated patrons that don’t want to pay fines. for context I work in one of the richest areas both in my state and country and these patrons can *very much* afford our fees. I had a patron go to my manager three days in a row over a $1 fine I told her about basically because she wanted me to lose my job when I told her about it. My manager more or less told me the best solution is to entertain these patrons by explaining what the fines are/how they accumulate (we can see if they’re overdue fines or whatever in our system), however a lot of patrons are just upset in the moment and would rather blame circ for “not getting it in on time” or guilt trip me with their kids. I asked about putting up a sign that says fines are non negotiable but was immediately shot down.

what’s the best way you’ve all found to handle patrons like this? whether it’s to de-escalate or “disarm” the patron from continuing to be rude and treat me like I’m the worst for informing them politely of a fine? (and before anyone tells me to not take it personally I have problems doing that clearly lol)

Oh dear, I'm sorry they're not being understanding :( Dang, I agree a sign would have been a good idea. Sadly I don't have enough experience in such situations to offer good advice, maybe someone in the replies and reblogs might.

(Also augh im so sorry this was in the box for a few days >_<)

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amtrak-official · 10 months

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Final update on the whole story I'm working on for a bit, I am just going to drop in a read more. I hope you guys enjoy reading it

Today is the 3rd Sunday of the Month, this means that the city of Saltpeter’s oddities, mistakes, and rarities have come together for Brunch, the national pastime of this peculiar crowd, among them are 2 librarians, a museum curator, a traveling beekeeper, a pen crafter, and about 20 other peculiar fellows. Take great note on the pair of drab brown haired people sitting at the very back of the train station restaurant. These boring sorts go by the names of Danny Jones and Danielle Jones and hold absolutely no relation to each other.

The thing about Danny Jones and Danielle Jones that is so interesting is not the fact that they share a birthday or last names despite being unrelated in any way other than a lesbian aunt 7 generations back, is the fact that these are the 2 most dull and boring individuals you will ever meet. Both have the personality of sliced bread and they aren’t much better in fashion either. There is nothing special about either Jones, they both live completely ordinary lives as shopkeepers on opposite ends of town. The most eventful thing either will do in a month is a Sunday Brunch. And yet both have managed to obtain a loving relationship with incredibly interesting people. And more interesting still is the fact that both are going to wind up dead at the end of the month.

Now to understand why this will happen, you must understand Saltpeter, importantly there are 4 cultural institutions in the city of Saltpeter, Firstly is the Library, it is one of the 3 which is actually known to the people of Saltpeter, and houses exactly 17,943 books and 67 are currently checked out. Next is the Museum of Maria Fernando, a town crazy lady who runs a museum on the way things used to be, this is the institution people like to forget, despite mattering quite a lot to the city, it has received exactly 17 visitors this month and stays afloat via Maria’s wife’s second cousin’s generous yearly donations in exchange for copies of old novels. The 3rd cultural institution is the rail station, it is on the route of the oldest train in the nation, the California Zephyr and is run by the best chef in the city, Leaf Ann Smith, capable of both killing a man and cooking in Omelette in under 20 minutes. Finally there's the Pen shop, they sell pens, specifically fountain pens, each are hand made by a Saltpeter craftsman, it made the list because we were paid 72$ to add it. If someone wants to stretch the definition of an institution, they could get it up to about 20 institutions and a playhouse worth of cultural amenities, but they would also have to include the brunch of the misfits of Saltpeter, which really shouldn’t be added on principle since it happens in Leaf Ann Smith’s train station anyways.

Now back to the Brunch, something very important is about to happen, There will be a rather large toast to the group. This is on account of it being the 3rd anniversary of the start of the groups monthly meetings. Somehow that is a point of pride among the members due to how it is the longest any Brunch group in Saltpeter has lasted after the Infamous Brunch fights 20 years ago. The Brunch fights were a rather dreary matter for such a pleasant pastime. 27 dead and 63 injured over a week. All because of bad French Toast at an upscale restaurant near downtown Saltpeter. And when I say bad, I mean bad, it was soggy, barely toasted, and didn't have any fruits except the one eating it. It's not even like Saltpeter doesn't have any strawberries, it was built on the largest strawberry farm west of the Mississippi. How do you fuck up French Toast that badly? How?

Oh right, the Toast to the Brunch crew, A tall woman in a Green Dress, a leather Jacket and Gold Hoop earings stands up, her hair is cut in a pixie cut. She grabs a Mimosa off the table and begins to talk. Hurricane Jane Rivers as they call her is many things, a lesbian, crazy, a storm chaser, dangerous, a purveyor of Pancakes, a painter and an aerial ace, but one thing she is not is consise. It would take 7 paragraphs to summarize her speech to that disparate group of oddities. In short though, she was thanking them for the best 3 years of her life. Little did she know, only half of them would see next month.

As her glass hits the glass of another member of the Brunch, a whisper rings through the air.

A tick of a second

And Bang, the train comes to a screeching halt outside the station, passengers get off as Leaf Ann Smith scrambles to hide her current mess of a Diner from the view of the wealthy tourists from downtown the tracks. The train is early for once. Precisely 17 minutes and 6 seconds early, something that should not have been possible given the fact that the train tracks were under repairs between Omaha and Saltpeter. And the train had a 2 minute delay when it arrived at the last station. This is all irrelevant if not to show how off guard it caught Leaf Ann Smith who usually manages to keep incredibly on top of the schedules of the train so she can run the station and Diner at once. Leaf Ann Smith is a busy Woman between the Diner, the Station and her time moonlighting as the union negotiator for between the carpenters guild and Sylvia Ink the sole crafter of fountain pens in Saltpeter and a person notoriously bad at paying their union dues.

#last ride of the california zephyr #writeblr

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brighteyedbushybrowed · 1 year

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𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 The Papas and Copia and how they react to your compliments. 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Compliments 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Cardinal Copia x GN!Reader, the paragraphs for the other Papas can also be interpreted as Papa x GN!Reader 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 No smut but mentions of sex in Copia's section so 18+ only, MINORS DNI 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 588 words. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 My body is too warm and it's making sitting in front of my laptop uncomfortable so I'm using today to take a break from writing Mary fics. I've v briefly proofread this to make sure I don't use gendered pronouns or terms for reader but if I've missed any lmk! 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 𝐓𝐢𝐩 𝐉𝐚𝐫

When Primo receives a compliment from you, it’s usually waved away dismissively as he mumbles something along the lines of ‘you waste these words on an old man like me instead of one who would appreciate them more’. It doesn’t stop you giving them to him though, now written on a note attached to a new plant or flower you’ve bought for him to plant in the gardens so he can’t brush them off. He always finds you afterwards, lightly chastising you for being far too kind and generous to a man of his age. Every time, without fail, you press a kiss to his cheek and tell him to stop being silly. It makes him smile fondly.

Secondo pretends not to be affected by the compliments you give him. You tell him he doesn’t need to put on such an act around you, and yet he does it anyway. He grunts, muttering about how you’re exaggerating and trying to be modest. Your compliments are always accompanied with a pot of tea served with his favourite cups and saucers and a plate of amaretti biscuits that you’ve freshly baked that morning. Sure, he grumbles about being distracted from his duties whenever you enter with a tray laden with biscuits and beverages, but he makes sure to thank you before you leave every single time, lips pressed to your forehead in gratitude as he promises to thank you properly later.

Compliments between you and Terzo become a competition. You’ll engage in compliment combat each time you cross one another in the corridors, lashing one another with kind words and affection until one of you smiles or laughs first. It used to startle the siblings of sin when they passed you both in the corridor during these times but now it’s such a common occurrence that they merely shake their heads and chuckle before continuing on with whatever they were doing prior to encountering you both. Terzo has won more of these compliment battles than you have and you’re okay with that. Just getting to see him smile and bask in the affection you offer him brings you an endless amount of joy.

At first, Copia didn’t deal with compliments too well. Each time you complimented his outfit or his moustache or even something his office space he’d bristle, assuming you were making fun of him like your fellow cardinals used to before he became the frontman for Ghost. It took months of building up trust and friendship for him to realise that you were being genuine and honest, showering him with affectionate words and reassuring smiles. Lingering eye contact and the touch of an arm that lasted longer than perhaps was appropriate between the two of you became more and more frequent.

Eventually, the kind words and compliments you exchanged resulted in him bedding you. Featherlight touches exchanged between two cardinals pining after one another became caresses and kisses in places that had you arching your back, aching for him. Whispers and giggles became moans and whimpers as you explored one another’s bodies in the dead of night, sneaking around the cardinals’ quarters and other places in the abbey after curfew. Shared books passed to one another innocently in the library became an excuse to meet up there after hours and desecrate the librarian’s desk with your head between his thighs and vice versa. What had started out as acts of kindness turned into a relationship and sexual encounters that were etched into your memory long after they’d happened.

#a little spicy #mushy may #primo #papa emeritus i #secondo #papa emeritus ii #terzo #papa emeritus iii #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x gn!reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv x gn!reader #the band ghost #fanfic #my fanfic #mine

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ofliterarynature · 2 months

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FEBRUARY 2024 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok nope dnf (reread) book club*]

The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years • The Memory Librarian • Pixels of You* • Arch-Enemies • Moby Dyke • Pip Bartlett’s Guide to Magical Creatures • A Sinister Revenge • Lud in the Mist • Crying in H Mart • Something Close to Magic • Hula • (Renegades) • The Divorce Colony • Foundryside • Earthlings • A Far Wilder Magic

total: 13 books (12 audiobook, 1 print)

Not as many books this month! And not just because February has fewer days, I was really in a funk this month and struggling to pay attention to my audiobooks (and enjoy them). You wouldn't think there's such a thing as too many books, but I think the overtime hours at work are hitting their peak mental health destruction. Here's to hoping things improve in March!

The Divorce Colony (4.5 stars) - genuinely can't believe this was my 3rd nonfic of the year already! I picked a print copy of this up at a library sale in December after hearing about divorce colonies in the early 20th century on a recent episode of the 99% Invisible podcast. Turns out this book was actually about the beginning of the moment that took place in Sioux Falls, South Dakota in the 1800's. Western states had shorter residency periods and less strict divorce laws, so women (and the occasional man) would travel west and live there for several months in order to obtain a divorce. This book tracks the movement through the stories of 4 of the more infamous cases to make the papers, and does an incredible job of weaving in the surrounding political and religious discussions. Would recommend, and has a great cover to boot!

Renegades (3 stars) - a reread, and for some reason it was torture. I originally read this back in 2018 and loved it, and wanted to tackle it again and actually finish the rest of the series. But I kept getting worked up and frustrated this time around! It kept trying to take itself seriously while also being very YA and kind of superhero-camp, and I was absolutely overthinking it lol. I found the strength to press on into book two, Archenemies (3.5 stars). I liked it a bit more! Something about it being new, the story being a bit more settled and maybe getting a better grasp on its message/politics, the characters growing more, me figuring out that I shouldn't listen to the audiobook for more than an hour or so at a time, lmao. Not great, but fun, and possibly worth reading? I'll keep y'all updated when I finish book 3.

Hula (5 stars) - incredible. Part generational family story, part history, part discussion of what it means to be Hawaiian, culturally and legally. Not always the easiest of reads, but it was so so worth it. It was also doing something very interesting with parts of the narration voiced by a collective "we" (culture/community?) that I would love to get a look at in print. Highly recommend, I'll definitely be getting myself a copy.

Something Close to Magic (4.5 stars) - an absolute delight! The Gail Carson Levine comp on this one is not entirely unearned, anyone who's a fan of fairy tale type fantasies will enjoy this, I had a great time! Very interestingly, it has characters who are in their mid to late teens, but is written in a way where they're still allowed to be young, to the point I'm surprised it didn't get shoehorned into MG instead of YA. If the author writes any more of these I'd be happy to read them.

Crying in H Mart (3.5 stars) - nonfic number 4! I'm sure everyone's heard of this one by now, which is why I finally picked it up. It's fine (which is why it got an extra .5 star), but on the scale of take it or leave it, I'd leave it. It just wasn't for me and I kind of wish I'd dnf'd it. A great cover though.

Lud-in-the-Mist (3.5 stars) - this one seems to be considered a sort of early precursor to fantasy and fairy tale type stories from the early 20th century, and I was eager to try it! While I definitely don't think it would feel out of place amongst it's more recent fellows (think the Last Unicorn, Robin McKinley, DWJ, etc), I absolutely could not get into it. Probably the chief recipient of "my brain doesn't want to cooperate, sorry," so maybe I'll give it another shot someday.

A Sinister Revenge (4 stars) - enjoyable as always! Not to hide this deep in my reviews or anything, but have the Emily Wilde people tried Veronica Speedwell yet?

Pip Bartlett's Guide to Magical Creatures (3 stars) - This one's been sitting unread on my shelf for a while, and since I was on a bit of a Maggie Stiefvater run, I figured it was perfect! Well. Unless you are like 7, this was so bad. Not good. Having previously read and not liked a book by Maggie's co-author Jackson Pearce, I think it would not be unreasonable for me to assume she did most of the writing while Maggie did the illustrations - if the audiobook had been any longer than 4 hours I'd have absolutely DNF'd it, and I have no intention of continuing the series.

Moby Dyke: An Obsessive Quest to Track Down the Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in the Country (4.5 stars) - part of me was wondering what I was doing trying this lol, not being someone who drinks or goes to bars, OR, as previously mentioned, is not the biggest fan of memoirs. It was not, as I hoped, also part research project, but it is a travelogue, and as a consequence has a strong narrative thread. It also has a lot of discussions about issues in the LGBTQ+ community, and overall I really liked it once I figured out what it was doing!

Pixels of You (3.5 stars) - a very short sapphic rivals-to friends-to lovers graphic novel about a human-form AI and a human with an android eye competing for a photography internship at an art gallery. The creators clearly put SO much thought into their characters and worldbuilding, but sadly there is nowhere near enough length here to do it all justice, and a number of elements felt very odd or under explored. The relationship parts are great! I just think this needed to be twice as long to really given everything its due, or maybe explored in prose instead.

The Memory Librarian (3.5 stars) - to start, I know nothing about the musical album this is related to, so I don't know how much that might have affected my reading. Overall I wasn't super impressed - when I discovered that the first story was cowritten by Alaya Dawn Johnson - no shade to her - I almost dropped it then, I just really didn't like her writing style in the one book I've read. But I stuck through it. Of the five stories, only one really stuck in my mind - Nevermind, cowritten by Danny Lore, which I could have read an entire novel about. I wish I could recommend it on its own, but overall I just don't quite understand the world Monae has created.

The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years (3.5 stars) - I probably should say more about the book, it was fine, I was surprised to find that it's set in relatively current day, I found myself a lot more interested in the second narrative about the house's history, which did make me cry a bit. Mostly though, I really just want to let you know how MUCH of a non-entity the djinn was in this story, I have no idea why it was there and why it was included in the title of the book. All the author had to do was make the house a little more sentient and haunted and it would be fine, idk. Read it if you want, but it's not one I would rec.

DNF'S

Foundryside - I was so ready. I had the first two audiobooks checked out, I had the third one on hold. I started this but oh, the writing. bleh. I was looking thought reviews and someone referred to it as something like "21st century internet speak." In a high fantasy novel. I noped out at just 10%.

Earthlings - I've considered the author's other book before but haven't read it, but thought maybe a sci-fic book would work better for me? The beginning was odd but not uninteresting, and I might have continued if it had stayed that way. But then the main character was in school(?) and her teacher started getting handsy after class and I wasn't invested enough to stick it out.

A Far Wilder Magic - the success of Something Close to Magic made me a little too hopeful I think, bc while I'm still a little leery around YA, I know people have liked this. And it sounded interesting, truly, and I love the cover. But first it was the religion stuff. And I didn't really like the characters. Then it's like, oh, this is the same plot as The Scorpio Races, but nowhere near it's quality in any shape or form. I decided to stop while I was ahead, before I started to actually dislike it. (anyway here's your PSA to go read The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, I recommend doing it in October if you can).

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helix-studios117 · 3 months

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Halo Reloaded: Origin

In the spick-and-span, oh-so-serious halls of the Spartan kiddie boot camp (also known as the Spartan training facility for those lacking a sense of humor), the sound of youthful jeers and muffled giggles was as common as the scent of industrial cleaner.

Amidst this cacophony of pre-teen bravado, one particular mini-Spartan, John-117, was conspicuously silent. Six years old and lacking the extra two years of life experience that apparently made a world of difference in the high-stakes world of child soldiering, John was the unofficial Omega, the bottom of the Spartan puppy pile.

While the other kids were busy flexing their tiny muscles and practicing their best war faces, John's days were a marathon of 'try-harder' exercises and 'don't-cry-in-front-of-the-others' mental gymnastics. The other kiddie commandos, high on their own burgeoning testosterone and combat boots, would often poke fun at his expense.

"Hey, diaper sniper, lost your pacifier?" a particularly obnoxious recruit would quip as John passed by, puffing out his chest like a pigeon in a pecking order contest. "Bet he still counts sheep to sleep," another would add, earning a round of giggles as imaginative as their future military strategies.

John, however, was a fortress of stoic determination (or maybe just really good at zoning out). He bottled up his feelings tighter than the secret recipe for the facility's mystery meatloaf. But when the lights dimmed and the barracks took on the tranquil ambiance of a mausoleum, John would seek refuge in his personal fortress of solitude – beneath his bed. Here, surrounded by dust bunnies and the occasional lost sock, he found the tranquility of a monk in meditation... if monks wore combat boots and dog tags.

On one such night, while John was contemplating the meaning of life, or maybe just what was for breakfast tomorrow, Dr. Halsey found him in his cozy hideout. Her visits were like comet sightings – rare, awe-inspiring, and a bit unsettling. "John," she whispered, like a librarian in a library of secrets. "This isn't a game of hide and seek."

Peeking out from under the bed with the suspicion of a cat in a new home, John's eyes met hers. "I'm... strategizing," he retorted, his voice uncertain. Halsey, holding back a smile, played along. "Oh? And what grand strategy does the under-bed realm hold?"

"To be the best," he said, louder, puffing up a bit as his nervousness slowly fades. "That's the spirit," she encouraged, her eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and maternal pride...

———

Days later...

"Ring The Bell," a Spartan favorite that was part obstacle course, part sadistic PE teacher's dream. The rules were simple yet brutal: race through a gauntlet of hurdles, leaps, and climbs to ring a bell perched high above. The catch? There was always a catch. The last one to ring the bell faced consequences, usually of the stomach-rumbling variety.

On this fateful day, John, already battling the twin demons of youth and inexperience, found himself trailing behind. His limbs felt like they were made of lead, and the bell seemed to be mocking him from its lofty perch. As he finally reached it, his hand slapping the cold metal a moment too late, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. Not just from the impending hunger, but from the crushing weight of failure.

As he climbed down, the murmurs of his fellow recruits filled the air, but one voice cut through the rest like a knife. It belonged to Val-015, the self-proclaimed golden boy of the group. Val, with his swagger and over-inflated ego, approached John, a smug grin plastered on his face. "Guess dinner's off the menu for you, Johnny boy," Val taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. "Maybe if you spent more time training and less time daydreaming, you wouldn't be such a slowpoke."

The other recruits snickered, but John's face remained an emotionless mask. He was used to jabs and jeers, but something about Val's words, the pointed cruelty of them, struck a nerve. "You know, Halsey thinks you're special, but I just see a little kid trying to play soldier," Val continued, poking John in the chest. "Why don't you run along and find a nice corner to cry in?"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. John's stoic facade shattered like glass under a sledgehammer. Tears, unbidden and hot, sprang to his eyes. He turned on his heel and bolted, his sobs echoing in the training hall. The other recruits fell silent, watching as John disappeared from view. Even Val's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty.

He hadn't expected his words to cut so deep, to elicit such a raw, human response from the stoic John-117. As John ran, his vision blurred by tears, he felt a maelstrom of emotions churning inside him – humiliation, anger, sadness. He was a Spartan, trained to be unbreakable, yet here he was, undone by words and his own vulnerability...

———

Later, on that same night...

John sat alone in the open barracks. The distant clatter and chatter from the cafeteria wafted through the hallways, a cruel reminder of what he was missing. The tantalizing aroma of roasted turkey, a rare treat in the Spartan menu, mingled with the sweet, tempting scent of chocolate-fudge ice cream. It was a feast fit for kings, or in this case, mini super-soldiers in training. But for John, there was only the empty silence of his room and the gnawing emptiness in his stomach.

He sat on the edge of his Spartan-issued cot, his head in his hands. The room felt smaller somehow, more confining. The walls seemed to close in on him, echoing his sense of isolation. John was used to solitude, but this was different. This was loneliness, a feeling he couldn't simply shake off with push-ups or training drills.His mind wandered to a place he hadn't allowed it to go in what felt like ages – home. The real home, not this sterile, unforgiving facility. He remembered the warmth of a bed not meant for training a soldier, the softness of a genuine goodnight kiss, the comforting murmur of a bedtime story. He longed for a time when the biggest worry he had was what toy to play with, not whether he'd be strong enough, fast enough, tough enough to survive the next day.

But that home, that life, was a world away now. A distant memory, fading a little more with each passing day in this harsh reality. "This is home now," he reminded himself, but the words felt hollow, a poor substitute for the home he truly yearned for.He didn't like it here. The constant drills, the relentless pressure, the unspoken expectation to be more machine than boy. It was a life chosen for him, not by him. A life that demanded everything and offered little in return, except the promise of becoming something... something more than just John.

As he sat there, wrestling with thoughts too heavy for a child his age, a small part of him acknowledged that this Spartan program was shaping him, molding him into something formidable. But at what cost? At the cost of his childhood? His innocence?

In that large, quiet room, with the sounds of his peers' laughter and chatter as a distant backdrop, John-117 felt a profound sense of loss. A loss of normalcy, of the simple joys of childhood, of a life he would never get to live. This was his reality now, and while he might grow to accept it, even excel in it, a part of him would always long for a home that was more than just a place to sleep between training sessions. A home where he was just John, not a number, not a future soldier, but a boy with dreams and fears like any other.

———

The following morning...

The dawn of that fateful morning at the Spartan training facility brought with it a heaviness that hung in the air, palpable and suffocating. John-117, the boy beneath the soon-to-be legend, navigated the morning with a heart burdened by the previous night's solitude. The Spartan breakfast, bland crackers and lukewarm milk, sat untouched before him, a stark reminder of his isolation.

With a spirit as grey as the hallways of the facility, John trudged towards the obstacle course, a place where physical pain often drowned out emotional turmoil. But today, destiny had etched a different path.As he approached the communal area, a strange sight caught his eye. A cluster of recruits, usually dispersed like disciplined ants, were huddled around the television. The air crackled with a tension that made John's skin crawl. Pushing through the crowd, a sense of dread growing with each step, he strained to see the screen.

The news anchor's voice, usually dispassionate, carried a weight that stopped John in his tracks. "Breaking news: Eridanus-II has been glassed by the Covenant." The words fell like hammer blows, shattering the fragile veneer of normalcy. Eridanus-II, John's home, the place of his childhood dreams and memories, now nothing but a charred memory in the cold expanse of space.

A collective gasp rippled through the recruits, then silence. Slowly, like the tide receding from the shore, they turned to face John. Their eyes, wide and unblinking, bore into him. They whispered among themselves, words lost in the buzz that filled John's head.

"He's from there, isn't he?"

"Can't imagine what he must be feeling..."

In that moment, John felt a loneliness deeper than the void of space. The room seemed to stretch into infinity, the faces around him morphing into distant stars, cold and unreachable. His heart, a stoic soldier's heart, faltered, betraying him with a surge of raw, unfiltered anguish.

Tears blurred his vision, a floodgate opened against his will. He stumbled backward, his Spartan training forgotten, his body no longer a weapon but a shell, hollow and cracked. He sank to the floor, the cold tile against his skin a stark contrast to the heat of his tears.

"I want to go home," he whispered, the words a ghost of a thought, a wish upon a star long extinguished. "Please, I just want to go home."

But there was no home. Not anymore. Eridanus-II, with its blue skies and laughter, its nights filled with stories and dreams, was gone. Consumed by a war that had no room for the innocence of a child's heart.The other recruits, hardened by training but still children themselves, watched John with a dawning realization. The war was no longer an abstract concept, taught in strategy classes and simulated in drills. It was real, and it had just claimed one of their own.

@empresskadia, @makowrites.

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