#my library is a tri-county library

[ardeawritten]

On the other end of the reading spectrum, am half way through Martha Wells' Witch King for the 2nd time and it's absolutely worth the three-month library app wait.

The problem is my library has that one, Murderbot series, and like book 2 of one of her older series and nothing else by her. It should be illegal for a library to stock only the middle book of a series. It's incredibly unfair.

And... I'm still a few weeks out from System Collapse.

[angelofthewaterss]

Always remember that there are so many free resources and books available online that are waiting to be found.

[fresnosnightcrawlers]

Just got a library card and this shit rules

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.5

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: swearing, self-deprecating thoughts, James losing his ever-loving mind.

“Okay. Start again, from the beginning.” Remus heard James say as he made his way back down to the common room with the Marauder’s Map held fast in his iron grip.

Regulus sighed something that sounded a lot like for Salazar’s sake, Potter as he looked at the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room for patience; jury’s still out on whether he found any or not.

“She was supposed to meet me in the library after the game to study.” He muttered plainly.

“Right.” James said as he paced near the fire, arms crossed and one hand up near his mouth as he chewed on his cuticles. 

“She never showed at the library, but I didn’t think anything of it as she often gets-”

“Distracted, right.” James agreed readily.

Regulus had lowered his head and was now looking at the floor. “I still had her books though, so I went to bring them to her dorm, or at least drop them off for her. Her roommate-”

“Which one?” James interrupted.

“What?”

“Which roommate?”

Regulus scoffed and levelled James with an incredulous glare. “I don’t know, Potter. Why would I know her roommates? The lot of them are tosser’s anyway.”

“Did Reggie just refer to someone as a tosser?” Sirius stage whispered to Remus. 

“Was it Mary-Ella?” 

“I don’t know who that is, Potter.”

“Did she have glasses?” James tried again.

“No.”

“The red head?”

“No.”

“Okay so it was Jill, then; the blonde.”

“Fine. Yes, Jill,” Regulus started, obviously antsy to get this conversation over with. “Said she had packed a small bag and said, and I quote,” he emphasized, obviously already having gone over this with James, “it’s better that she stays away from the castle for the weekend.”

James had since stopped his pacing and stood in front of the fire as he pieced the facts together.

“Okay...” he started as he looked to Regulus again. “One more time.”

“Potter!” Regulus shouted at the same time Sirius whined “Prongs!”

“This is awful. This is just awful.” James said as he resumed his pacing.

“Okay, well, relax Potter. She’s more clever than people give her credit for – I’m sure she’s fine.” Regulus said as he rubbed his temples.

“I know she’s more clever than people give her credit for.”

“Then why are you so wound up?” Sirius asked. Big mistake.

“Because, if she’s not here, who will stop the nargles, Sirius!?” James shrilled. 

“What the fuck is a nargle!?” Sirius shouted back.

“I don’t know! All I know is that Y/N’s not here, and now the nargles are going to steal my stuff!”

Remus was fully convinced that dogs two counties over could hear James at this point.

“Guys? Has anyone seen my shoes?” Peter interjected as he stood from his spot on the carpet where Sirius had abandoned their card game. “I swear they were just here.”

“Oh gods, it’s starting.” James cried miserably.

“Oh relax, Potter. The nargles aren’t interested in smelly running shoes.” Regulus added with derision. “They’d much prefer a nice wizarding pair of dragonhide boots.”

Suddenly, realization seemed to dawn on Regulus’ face as he turned quickly and exited the Gryffindor common room.

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.” James muttered as he resumed his pacing.

“Alright, are you going to tell him? Or should I?” Sirius said as he turned his sights to Remus.

“Tell me what?” James said immediately, looking between his two friends.

Remus’ face was pale and clammy while Moony was screaming in his mind at the thought of you being gone, not being safe, being hurt, hiding.

“Tell me what?!” James asked again.

Remus just shook his head.

“Remus.” Sirius warned.

“What did you do? What did you say to her?” James accused, immediately on the offensive as he stalked towards him. Lily stood swiftly to block James’ path.

“I...I can’t...I-she’s,” Remus stuttered miserably.

“Oh, for Godric’s sake.” Sirius muttered as he stalked up to his dorm room. He returned swiftly with the book Hairy Snout, Human Heart and tossed it to James who caught it easily. 

“She is his soulmate.” He said simply.

“SOULMATE!?” Lily, Peter, and James all guffawed in unison.

“I thought that was just a myth.” Peter muttered as he took the book from James’ hand and began flipping through it.

“Apparently not.” Sirius muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s had this guy wound up for weeks.”

“Holy shit.” Peter muttered as he held the book out for James and Lily to see as well. “It’s true. It’s here.” 

“How do you know it’s her?” Lily asked Remus.

He snorted and shook his head as Moony shouted MINE.

“Just a hunch.” He muttered miserably.

“Is this why you’ve been so upset, recently?” Peter asked quietly. James scoffed and shook his head angrily.

“So upset... to have such an odd girl as your soulmate, Moony?” James spat furiously.

Remus felt the colour drain from his face as Moony started arguing angrily in his head. IS MINE. IS MINE. MINE, GOOD. MINE, GOOD. 

James scoffed and threw the book onto the table. “You know, out of everyone, Remus, I thought at least you’d be more understanding. That perhaps maybe you would know what it’s like to be different from everyone else – treated differently than your peers.”

James looked down his nose at his friend as he began to stalk out of the room. “Turns out you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

Remus felt a tear fall as he turned back to regard his friends.

“Sirius.” He whispered miserably.

“I know, Moons. I know that’s not why; I’ll talk to him - but I don’t blame him for being angry.” Sirius offered solemnly before he followed James up the stairs.

“You know...it makes a lot of sense.” Peter mused aloud.

Lily and Remus turned to face him with matching expressions of bemusement. 

“A witch who believes in nargles ought to believe in soulmates. She’s probably the perfect person for you.” He said simply with a shrug.

Mine. Miss. Missing. Where? Mine. Moony whimpered.

James was officially missing one half of two pairs of socks, his watch, his school tie, and his new quill set that his mom had sent him.

Oh, and also his sanity if you asked Sirius. 

Sirius was starting to feel like he was losing his sanity too, between Remus’ brooding over your ‘disappearance’ (which sounded so dramatic considering you told people you were leaving and that you’d be back after the weekend), James’ (and admittedly, Regulus’) fussing over nargles, auras, and something other entity Sirius has never heard of, and Peter’s complete lack of help with any of the above. 

“All this over a bird.” He muttered to himself as he handed James one of his extra ties.

“Moony, up. We’re going to breakfast.” He barked over his shoulder. Remus just shook his head.

“Get up.” He demanded. 

“M’not hungry.” Remus muttered petulantly.

“Don’t care, Moons – we’re going to breakfast.” 

“Leave me alone.”

“Oh, for fucking fuck!” Sirius said as he stomped his feet. “Lupin, I swear to fuck if you do not get your arse down to the Great Hall right now and eat - because I know you won’t eat later and then you’ll have the moon tonight and then you won’t eat tomorrow morning which will have meant you haven’t eaten in over 24-hours – I will find your bird and bed her myself.”

Sirius felt ridiculous for a) his temper tantrum and b) threatening to steal his best mate’s girl – but it appeared to have its desired effect when Remus stood abruptly from what Sirius had officially dubbed the brooding chair with a growl and stalked out the dormitory door, shouldering Sirius as he went. 

It was going to be a long day.

Unfortunately for Sirius, it was an even longer night. 

James and Remus still weren’t speaking as the four of them made their way to the Shrieking Shack for Moony’s transformation. Peter, the poor sod, kept trying to make conversation, though it was all in vain as Remus was still too broody to engage and James just offered the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. 

And unfortunately, Moony wasn’t in better spirits.

After Remus’ transformation, Sirius – now Padfoot – had the unenviable task of watching a Werewolf in mourning.

The Wolf spent most of the night making pathetically sorrowful howls at the moon, and when he wasn’t crying, he was trying to gnaw angrily on his ankles. When Padfoot tried to get him to stop, or encourage a playful romp, Moony snapped at him.

Padfoot huffed to say “fine, you sod”, but his whimper as he laid on the opposite end of the room betrayed his haughtiness – Padfoot’s heart was breaking.

It was breaking for his Moony – his pack – and it also broke for Remus. Remus, who finally had a shot at something wonderful but let it slip through his fingers because he was too full of self-loathing to accept an opportunity. Remus, who deserves love and compassion, because lord knows he doesn’t give enough of it to himself. Remus, who found probably the most openminded and understanding person in the world. Remus...who found his soulmate. 

His soulmate.

Moony found his happy ending.

And Padfoot was not going to let him lose it.

Remus blinked against the harsh brightness of the infirmary the following morning – his body aching in ways it hadn’t since before the boys started joining him for the full moons. As he stretched, the bandages that pulled at his wrists and ankles explained why.

Moony had been angry. And he’d taken it out on Remus.

Remus couldn’t blame him. All of the floundering, grasping at ridiculous straws, the planning he’d been doing all week. For what?

To use a poor girl for sex and distractions? To cheat Moony, and himself, from what he really wanted? To fight and argue with his friends, his pack? To have you take off for two nights?

He hated himself.

He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself.

And Moony hated him too.

Remus groaned as he pushed himself up in a sitting position.

“Feeling better?” James muttered as he fluffed Remus’ pillow for him. His face and tone remained angry despite his kind gesture.

“No, not really...” Remus admitted.

“Me neither.” 

“James, I’m sorry.” Remus sighed as he settled back into his pillow. “I swear I...it’s not her, I-”

“It’s not you, it’s me. Really, Moony?” James sneered.

“Yes, Prongs. You know this.” Remus stressed. 

“Uhm, no. What I know, Moony, is that you are a wonderful, caring friend who loves his people so strongly, and has more love to give, and certainly deserves more love than he allows himself. That’s what I know.

“I also know that I have a very wonderful, lovely, caring friend who deserves the same amount of love she gives to everyone else, and you wouldn’t even give her a chance!”

“James. I know.”

“And anoth- what?” James stopped in his tirade. 

“I know.” Remus repeated as his eyes welled with tears. “I tried to fight it because I didn’t want to drag anyone else into my mess; I didn’t want anyone else to feel responsible for me. I’ve already damned my mum and dad, I’ve already dragged you three into this – I couldn’t do it again. I thought I was strong enough to ignore it, but I can’t.”

“Rem, you didn’t damn your parents. That’s what happens when you have a kid; the kids’ job is to be who they are, and the parent’s job is to love them regardless. And we chose to help you through this Rem – and it was the right thing to do!” James cried as he lifted his hands in the air.

“I just don’t want you guys to regret it one day or decide I’m too much. Then what would I do?” Remus admitted quietly.

“Oh, for- You know what, Lupin? Only way you’re getting rid of me is through death. Got it?” James said with all the sternness he could muster.

Remus huffed a laugh and nodded. “Okay Prongs.”

James deflated and offered a curt nod. “Good. ‘Cause I need your help finding Y/N. I cannot risk losing another one of my quills – my mom is going to kill me.”

Padfoot felt like he may have scrapes on his nose from how long he’s been out here following your scent. But he knew it would be worth it when he found you and got you back to Moony.

His ears perked up when he heard movement, but he swiftly hid behind a large oak tree when some Centaurs stepped onto the path.

“Now, if you continue West from here, you should find the rest of your path to Hogwarts unhindered. Stepping off the path brings the chance of new adventures and grave danger.” A centaur proclaimed.

“Thank you very much, Firenze. Best of luck on your search for the Snidgets.” An airy voice called back. 

Padfoot knew that voice! That was Moony’s soulmate! Padfoot tried to hide his excitement (i.e., he tried to stop his tail from wagging) until the centaurs all left.

Suddenly, Padfoot shifted and bolted out from behind the tree to stand in front of you.

“Y/N!” He shouted as he grabbed your upper arms in his hands, scanning you from head-to-toe for any signs of injury. 

You seemed surprised by his appearance, but not startled. Sirius figured you probably should have been startled – it was a pretty startling thing for him to do.

You had no injuries, but a few branches and leaves were caught in your hair and on various parts of your body. You were also not wearing shoes.

“Well, hello Sirius. It’s very nice to see you.” You said plainly.

“Nice to see me? Are you- where are your shoes?” He decided to settle on first. Not the most important question – but it took priority in Sirius’ mind.

You looked down at your feet like you weren’t fully aware they were bare. “You know, I’m not quite sure. Not to worry, though; I’m sure they’ll turn up. Lost things often have ways of finding their way back to us, if not always in the way we expect.”

Sirius had no idea how to respond to that – so he didn’t. “Do you have any idea how worried everyone has been?” He sputtered at you.

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, and you almost seemed upset as you responded, “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to concern anyone.”

Sirius immediately regretted saying anything; now he could see why James was so sweet on you.

“Well, let’s go to the castle and tell them all that, then.” He acquiesced as he hooked your arm in his and began the path back to Hogwarts. You did not seem concerned nor feel the need to object to his manhandling you. But Sirius knew he would not be letting go of you until you were back in the castle – maybe not even then. He was not going to deal with Remus, James, and Regulus like this again.

“Regulus was perhaps most concerned.” He lied, knowing very well he was far from the most dramatic through all of this. “Very worried about the nargles in your absence.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “As he should; they’d be quite interested in his dragonhide boots.”

“You don’t say.” Sirius murmured, unadmittedly becoming increasingly concerned with the state of his beloved Doc Marten’s stowed in his school trunk.

“Better hurry then.” He said as he all but dragged you up towards the castle. 

Remus tried not to get too caught up on the fact that he was sitting in the infirmary with James and Regulus Black of all people as they scanned the Marauder’s map for any sign of you. He also pretended he didn’t notice the fact that Regulus was holding a duffle bag that appeared to have everything he owned jammed inside it.

“She said she’d only need to stay away from the castle for the weekend, right?” James asked as he continued to scan the parchment.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Yes, Potter. Like I said.”

“Okay, I can’t look at this anymore – I’m going cross-eyed.” James moaned as he leaned away from the map and rubbed his eyes from behind his glasses.

Remus felt awfully guilty. He didn’t know how you would know - though he wouldn’t put it past you at this point - but he didn’t think it was a coincidence that you left for the full moon. He doesn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if something happened to you because of it.

“Oh, thank Godric.” James finally breathed as he stood from his chair.

“Godric had nothing to do with it, Prongsie.” Sirius called out as he waltzed into the infirmary – your arm in his. 

James all but shoved Sirius aside as he enveloped you in his arms. “Where have you been!?” 

You smiled sweetly – that damned dimple making an appearance to taunt Remus – and patted your friends back.

“Oh, I wasn’t far Jamie.”

Sirius let out a pfft from where he was now leaning against the wall at the end of Remus’ bed. “Not far she says. I found her with a herd of centaurs.”

“CENTAURS.” The three other boys shouted, earning them a dramatic shushing from the matron.

“Y/N, centaurs are very hostile towards wizard-kind.” Regulus spoke severely, albeit more quietly for Madame Pomfrey's benefit. 

“I don’t agree.” You said simply as you turned to look at Remus. “Are you feeling much better?” You asked him.

Your voice was so tranquil compared to the conversation with the boys, and even with Madame Pomfrey – Remus was sure if he was hooked up to a muggle heart monitor, his blood pressure would be dropping just from listening to you speak.

Keep smiling at him like that, though, and it might pick right back up.

“I am, Y/N. Thank you.”

You sighed in relief as you sat on the edge of the foot of Remus’ bed. “Oh good. I figured it’d be easier if I was gone.” 

Sirius and James’ necks looked like they might have snapped as they turned to look at you. The room fell painfully quiet as Sirius, James, and Remus all looked at each other and then to Regulus. 

Regulus seemed to understand his intrusion. “Uhm, right. Well, Y/N L/N, you are to never take off like that again without informing me. Got it?” He said severely. Remus is sure most people would have cowered, but you smiled sweetly and brushed his cheek.

"Okay, Reg."

Regulus offered you a curt nod and left the infirmary. Remus supposed that was likely as loving as Regulus Black could ever get. 

“What would have been easier if you were gone, Y/N?” James asked quietly.

“Well, the moon, of course.” You responded.

That muggle heart rate monitor? It’d be showing no signal at this point.

“I’m terribly sorry if your bond to me is causing you problems, Remus.” You offered solemnly. Remus thought this might be the most emotion he’d ever seen from you.

“It’s...it’s not your fault.” Remus croaked.

“Y/N, how much do you know?” Sirius asked.

You considered Sirius for a moment before responding. “About what?”

Sirius looked between the you and Remus before arching his brow at the latter. Remus grimaced and leaned forward to tap his finger against your hand that was closest to him to bring your attention to him.

“How much do you know about me?”

 “Well, I know your name is Remus Lupin. You’re from a town outside of Cardiff. You’re a Pisces, a Gryffindor, a werewolf, and a prefect. And you have a magical connection to me, it seems.” You said all too simply, head tilted as you searched his face for something.

Remus’ mind was reeling; it was reeling that you apparently knew he was a werewolf, and it was reeling at the fact that in a list of things you knew about him, that fact fell between him being a Gryffindor and a prefect and was not as important to you as his birth sign. 

“What’s his name?” You asked suddenly.

Remus shook his head as if to wake himself up. “I’m sorry?”

“The Wolf; what’s his name?”

Remus looked to Sirius who was staring at you with a terrified sort of awe, and then to James who looked both proud and smug that you’d figured it out.

“It’s Moony.” Remus whispered.

You smiled greatly at that. “A wonderful name.”

Sirius smirked at that – clearly chuffed his hard work was appreciated. 

“It’s fitting too – should have seen him mooning over you this weekend – this month even!” James said.

Remus threw a chocolate wrapper at him from his bedside table.

“I’m sure it’s difficult, feeling tied to someone so odd.” You offered quietly, and any friendly banter drained from the boys immediately.

“Y/N, that’s-” James started, but Remus interrupted.

“I’m so sorry to have made you believe that Y/N, but it’s just not true.” He said emphatically.

You tilted your head at him in intrigue. “No?”

He shook his head. “No. I was trying to keep you away from...Moony, from my infliction.” He admitted shamefully.

“Hm. Well, that didn’t work very well.” You said plainly, causing Sirius to bark a laugh.

“Most of his plans don’t, dollface.” He said through a chuckle.

“Oh, plans aren’t always a bad thing: it’s good to be prepared. But it’s important to plan to be spontaneous as well.”

“Plan to be spontaneous?” James asked incredulously.

“Oh yes,” you said severely. “I get my best work done that way.”

James seemed to consider this as Sirius sighed. “Yes, and, if you plan too much, auror’s throw around words like premeditated.”

You nodded in comradery. “Very true, Sirius.” 

Continue to chapter six here.

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[breelandwalker]

JSTOR Articles on the History of Witchcraft, Witch Trials, and Folk Magic Beliefs

This is a partial of of articles on these subjects that can be found in the JSTOR archives. This is not exhaustive - this is just the portion I've saved for my own studies (I've read and referenced about a third of them so far) and I encourage readers and researchers to do their own digging. I recommend the articles by Ronald Hutton, Owen Davies, Mary Beth Norton, Malcolm Gaskill, Michael D. Bailey, and Willem de Blecourt as a place to start.

If you don't have personal access to JSTOR, you may be able to access the archive through your local library, university, museum, or historical society.

Full text list of titles below the cut:

'Hatcht up in Villanie and Witchcraft': Historical, Fiction, and Fantastical Recuperations of the Witch Child, by Chloe Buckley

'I Would Have Eaten You Too': Werewolf Legends in the Flemish, Dutch and German Area, by Willem de Blecourt

'The Divels Special Instruments': Women and Witchcraft before the Great Witch-hunt, by Karen Jones and Michael Zell

'The Root is Hidden and the Material Uncertain': The Challenges of Prosecuting Witchcraft in Early Modern Venice, by Jonathan Seitz

'Your Wife Will Be Your Biggest Accuser': Reinforcing Codes of Manhood at New England Witch Trials, by Richard Godbeer

A Family Matter: The CAse of a Witch Family in an 18th-Century Volhynian Town, by Kateryna Dysa

A Note on the Survival of Popular Christian Magic, by Peter Rushton

A Note on the Witch-Familiar in Seventeenth Century England, by F.H. Amphlett Micklewright

African Ideas of Witchcraft, by E.G. Parrinder

Aprodisiacs, Charms, and Philtres, by Eleanor Long

Charmers and Charming in England and Wales from the Eighteenth to the Twentieth Century, by Owen Davies

Charming Witches: The 'Old Religion' and the Pendle Trial, by Diane Purkiss

Demonology and Medicine in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, by Sona Rosa Burstein

Denver Tries A Witch, by Margaret M. Oyler

Devil's Stones and Midnight Rites: Megaliths, Folklore, and Contemporary Pagan Witchcraft, by Ethan Doyle White

Edmund Jones and the Pwcca'r Trwyn, by Adam N. Coward

Essex County Witchcraft, by Mary Beth Norton

From Sorcery to Witchcraft: Clerical Conceptions of Magic in the Later Middle Ages, by Michael D. Bailey

German Witchcraft, by C. Grant Loomis

Getting of Elves: Healing, Witchcraft and Fairies in the Scottish Witchcraft Trials, by Alaric Hall

Ghost and Witch in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, by Gillian Bennett

Ghosts in Mirrors: Reflections of the Self, by Elizabeth Tucker

Healing Charms in Use in England and Wales 1700-1950, by Owen Davies

How Pagan Were Medieval English Peasants?, by Ronald Hutton

Invisible Men: The Historian and the Male Witch, by Lara Apps and Andrew Gow

Johannes Junius: Bamberg's Famous Male Witch, by Lara Apps and Andrew Gow

Knots and Knot Lore, by Cyrus L. Day

Learned Credulity in Gianfrancesco Pico's Strix, by Walter Stephens

Literally Unthinkable: Demonological Descriptions of Male Witches, by Lara Apps and Andrew Gow

Magical Beliefs and Practices in Old Bulgaria, by Louis Petroff

Maleficent Witchcraft in Britian since 1900, by Thomas Waters

Masculinity and Male Witches in Old and New England, 1593-1680, by E.J. Kent

Methodism, the Clergy, and the Popular Belief in Witchcraft and Magic, by Owen Davies

Modern Pagan Festivals: A Study in the Nature of Tradition, by Ronald Hutton

Monstrous Theories: Werewolves and the Abuse of History, by Willem de Blecourt

Neapolitan Witchcraft, by J.B. Andrews and James G. Frazer

New England's Other Witch-Hunt: The Hartford Witch-Hunt of the 1660s and Changing Patterns in Witchcraft Prosecution, by Walter Woodward

Newspapers and the Popular Belief in Witchcraft and Magic in the Modern Period, by Owen Davies

Occult Influence, Free Will, and Medical Authority in the Old Bailey, circa 1860-1910, by Karl Bell

Paganism and Polemic: The Debate over the Origins of Modern Pagan Witchcraft, by Ronald Hutton

Plants, Livestock Losses and Witchcraft Accusations in Tudor and Stuart England, by Sally Hickey

Polychronican: Witchcraft History and Children, interpreting England's Biggest Witch Trial, 1612, by Robert Poole

Publishing for the Masses: Early Modern English Witchcraft Pamphlets, by Carla Suhr

Rethinking with Demons: The Campaign against Superstition in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe from a Cognitive Perspective, by Andrew Keitt

Seasonal Festivity in Late Medieval England, Some Further Reflections, by Ronald Hutton

Secondary Targets: Male Witches on Trial, by Lara Apps and Andrew Gow

Some Notes on Modern Somerset Witch-Lore, by R.L. Tongue

Some Notes on the History and Practice of Witchcraft in the Eastern Counties, by L.F. Newman

Some Seventeenth-Century Books of Magic, by K.M. Briggs

Stones and Spirits, by Jane P. Davidson and Christopher John Duffin

Superstitions, Magic, and Witchcraft, by Jeffrey R. Watt

The 1850s Prosecution of Gerasim Fedotov for Witchcraft, by Christine D. Worobec

The Catholic Salem: How the Devil Destroyed a Saint's Parish (Mattaincourt, 1627-31), by William Monter

The Celtic Tarot and the Secret Tradition: A Study in Modern Legend Making, by Juliette Wood

The Cult of Seely Wights in Scotland, by Julian Goodare

The Decline of Magic: Challenge and Response in Early Enlightenment England, by Michael Hunter

The Devil-Worshippers at the Prom: Rumor-Panic as Therapeutic Magic, by Bill Ellis

The Devil's Pact: Diabolic Writing and Oral Tradition, by Kimberly Ball

The Discovery of Witches: Matthew Hopkins' Defense of his Witch-hunting Methods, by Sheilagh Ilona O'Brien

The Disenchantment of Magic: Spells, Charms, and Superstition in Early European Witchcraft Literature, by Michael D. Bailey

The Epistemology of Sexual Trauma in Witches' Sabbaths, Satanic Ritual Abuse, and Alien Abduction Narratives, by Joseph Laycock

The European Witchcraft Debate and the Dutch Variant, by Marijke Gijswijt-Hofstra

The Flying Phallus and the Laughing Inquisitor: Penis Theft in the Malleus Maleficarum, by Moira Smith

The Framework for Scottish Witch-Hunting for the 1590s, by Julian Goodare

The Imposture of Witchcraft, by Rossell Hope Robbins

The Last Witch of England, by J.B. Kingsbury

The Late Lancashire Witches: The Girls Next Door, by Meg Pearson

The Malefic Unconscious: Gender, Genre, and History in Early Antebellum Witchcraft Narratives, by Lisa M. Vetere

The Mingling of Fairy and Witch Beliefs in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Scotland, by J.A. MacCulloch

The Nightmare Experience, Sleep Paralysis, and Witchcraft Accusations, by Owen Davies

The Pursuit of Reality: Recent Research into the History of Witchcraft, by Malcolm Gaskill

The Reception of Reginald Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft: Witchcraft, Magic, and Radical Religions, by S.F. Davies

The Role of Gender in Accusations of Witchcraft: The Case of Eastern Slovenia, by Mirjam Mencej

The Scottish Witchcraft Act, by Julian Goodare

The Werewolves of Livonia: Lycanthropy and Shape-Changing in Scholarly Texts, 1550-1720, by Stefan Donecker

The Wild Hunter and the Witches' Sabbath, by Ronald Hutton

The Winter Goddess: Percht, Holda, and Related Figures, by Lotta Motz

The Witch's Familiar and the Fairy in Early Modern England and Scotland, by Emma Wilby

The Witches of Canewdon, by Eric Maple

The Witches of Dengie, by Eric Maple

The Witches' Flying and the Spanish Inquisitors, or How to Explain Away the Impossible, by Gustav Henningsen

To Accommodate the Earthly Kingdom to Divine Will: Official and Nonconformist Definitions of Witchcraft in England, by Agustin Mendez

Unwitching: The Social and Magical Practice in Traditional European Communities, by Mirjam Mencej

Urbanization and the Decline of Witchcraft: An Examination of London, by Owen Davies

Weather, Prayer, and Magical Jugs, by Ralph Merrifield

Witchcraft and Evidence in Early Modern England, by Malcolm Gaskill

Witchcraft and Magic in the Elizabethan Drama by H.W. Herrington

Witchcraft and Magic in the Rochford Hundred, by Eric Maple

Witchcraft and Old Women in Early Modern Germany, by Alison Rowlands

Witchcraft and Sexual Knowledge in Early Modern England, by Julia M. Garrett

Witchcraft and Silence in Guillaume Cazaux's 'The Mass of Saint Secaire', by William G. Pooley

Witchcraft and the Early Modern Imagination, by Robin Briggs

Witchcraft and the Western Imagination by Lyndal Roper

Witchcraft Belief and Trals in Early Modern Ireland, by Andrew Sneddon

Witchcraft Deaths, by Mimi Clar

Witchcraft Fears and Psychosocial Factors in Disease, by Edward Bever

Witchcraft for Sale, by T.M. Pearce

Witchcraft in Denmark, by Gustav Henningsen

Witchcraft in Germany, by Taras Lukach

Witchcraft in Kilkenny, by T. Crofton Croker

Witchcraft in Anglo-American Colonies, by Mary Beth Norton

Witchcraft in the Central Balkans I: Characteristics of Witches, by T.P. Vukanovic

Witchcraft in the Central Balkans II: Protection Against Witches, by T.P. Vukanovic

Witchcraft Justice and Human Rights in Africa, Cases from Malawi, by Adam Ashforth

Witchcraft Magic and Spirits on the Border of Pennsylvania and West Virginia, by S.P. Bayard

Witchcraft Persecutions in the Post-Craze Era: The Case of Ann Izzard of Great Paxton, 1808, by Stephen A. Mitchell

Witchcraft Prosecutions and the Decline of Magic, by Edward Bever

Witchcraft, by Ray B. Browne

Witchcraft, Poison, Law, and Atlantic Slavery, by Diana Paton

Witchcraft, Politics, and Memory in Seventeeth-Century England, by Malcolm Gaskill

Witchcraft, Spirit Possession and Heresy, by Lucy Mair

Witchcraft, Women's Honour and Customary Law in Early Modern Wales, by Sally Parkin

Witches and Witchbusters, by Jacqueline Simpson

Witches, Cunning Folk, and Competition in Denmark, by Timothy R. Tangherlini

Witches' Herbs on Trial, by Michael Ostling

[adrianasunderworld]

More Twst x Stardew things

The Royal Sword Corporation opened one of their stores in town years ago. Crowley hates it. He hates the manger, Ambrose, who wants him to sell the community center so they can open another Royal Sword Business in town.

Che'nya works at Royal Sword Mart. Neige actually got his big break from Royal Sword. He got cast in a commercial for it, and it did so well that he's the face of a whole ad campaign now. Vil is angry and jealous because he also auditioned for that role and Neige got picked over him.

Vil still acts and models, but it's on a much smaller scale compared to Neige. Like he gets hired a lot to do ads and commercials for businesses in town, and in all the neighboring towns, to the point he's kind of a local celebrity in the area. He keeps visiting the city to audition for theater, but so far nothing. He ideally would like to move to the city to pursue bigger roles, but it's just not in the cards now.

The witch that turns your eggs into void eggs at night is Malleus grandma. He gets embarrassed, and has tried convincing her to get a different hobby, to no avail.

Fellow and Giddel are event characters. They get hired to work at the county fair during the fall, and sometimes stop by on the Night Market. There's a quest where you can befriend them so they can move into town, and Giddel can join the other kids on their lessons.

Leonas family is very well off. After his father passed while Leona was still a minor, Falena took custody of him, and he still lives with Falena and his wife, Asha. The Kingscholars were successful in their careers and had plenty of money. Like the farmer, they wanted a change of pace from city life and bought a nice inn just outside of town. Falena runs the actual business while Asha still works as a lawyer. Leona is taking online courses while working at the inn. Ruggie also works there and often has to keep Leona on track.

Ace is a carpenter, and was like Robin, the first person in town to greet you and show you to Ramshackle Farm. And like Robin, he also called your grandpa's house crusty. He also has beef with your cat, Grim. Everytime he comes by to work on something, they have a stare off.

Jade is still interested in foraging, and often gives helpful tips, like what is in season and where to find it. His favorite gifts are any mushrooms.

The mermaid who does a show at the Night Market is Rielle.

Ortho, Najma, and Cheka are like the Jas and Vincent in town. They're the local kids you always see running around, along with everyone else's little siblings, like Jack's brother and sister.

Since there's more than two kids in town in this au, there is an actual school house in the area. It's right next to or is connected to the library, and Clara is the local teacher. Trein helps her out by doing the history lessons. Clara will give the older kids their lessons in the morning before doing their more independent study time and class work in the afternoon while she teaches the little ones. Trein usually keeps an eye on the older kids while they work in the library. It's hard though, Lucius keeps demanding their attention when they're supposed to be doing homework.

Ramshackle is still haunted. There's ghost all over the property, and they mostly show up at night. But they will sometime show up indoors, like in the house, sheds, and greenhouse.

If you marry Leona, he will nap in the greenhouse.

If you marry Deuce, he will work on his bike outside.

If you marry Vil, his post marriage heart event is him going away to work after taking a bigger role. Kinda like Elliot going on his book tour.

If you marry Cater, he will post about living on a farm. He will absolutely make vlog type videos going "My day in the life of a stay at home farm husband."

@mangacupcake @marrondrawsalot @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind

[itgetsbetterproject]

Some tangible Black queer history for you!

In case you needed any more proof that we've always been here - this amazing collection is courtesy of the Stonewall National Musuem and Archive!

Rafiki: The Journal of the Association of Black Gays, Vol. 1 #1 (Fall 1976)

"Rafiki was a quarterly publication from the Association of Black Gays (ABG), a Los Angeles, California gay activist group that organized through education, political engagement, and grassroots activism to improve the conditions for Los Angeles’s Black gays and lesbians.

According to the journal, the title Rafiki was chosen because it means “friend” in Swahili and “that’s what [ABG] hope to be for you.” This first issue includes an article on the history of ABG and the fact that Black gays and lesbians have been largely excluded from the political, social, and economic advances of the gay community.

Included in this issue are articles such as “Homosexuality in Tribal Africa” and “Disco Discontent” (an open letter to the owner of Studio One, Scott Forbes), as well as poetry by Steven Corbin and Frances Andrews, and book reviews. It even contains an ad for the famous Catch One Club owned by Jewel Williams, which is still operating today!"

I Am Your Sister: Black Women Organizing Across Sexualities by Audre Lorde (Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press, 1985; from the Freedom Organizing Series)

You can read this one here!

"This small twelve-page publication derives from a speech Audre Lorde gave at the Women’s Center of Medgar Evers College in New York City regarding the exclusion of Lesbians in the feminist movement and how Lorde’s identity as both a Black woman and lesbian are inextricably linked.

Primarily, heterosexism and homophobia are major issues Lorde states are “two grave barriers to organizing among Black women.” Lorde ends the essay with the statement: “I am a Black Lesbian, and I am your sister.”

Her emphasis on the duality of this identity stems from a 1960s poster that said “He’s not black, he’s my brother!,” which Lorde states infuriated her because “it implied that the two were mutually exclusive.”

Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press was founded by Barbara Smith—another Black Lesbian feminist—and Audre Lorde in 1980 to create a publishing apparatus for women of color who at the time did not have control over how they were published except through the white-dominated outlets."

Flawless! The Life & Times of T.B.D.J. AKA Tiffani Inc. AKA Mrs. … (Manuscript) by Tiffany Bowerman (July 2007, A&E Publishers)

This autobiographical manuscript traces the life of Tiffany Bowerman aka Tiffany B.D. Johnson (b. 1959), who states that she “was the first African-American Transsexual to have state issued birth certificate reissued [1990]… was the first to legally marry three different active duty military men… [and] first… to found their own Christian Denomination… The Agape-Ecumenical Christian Denomination.”

Further, she states “I have tried to put together something striking and original[,] a journey from childhood to self aware adult. A life that was and is with all regrets included.”

This manuscript is a preliminary copy of a rough draft, and contains various memoirs, photographs, legal documents, and ephemera.

Out in Black and White: A Directory of Publications By, About, For People of Afrikan Descent In-The-Life by the Broward County Library Outreach Services Department Exhibit/Programming Services with direction by Eric Jon Rawlins (January, 1996)

Out in Black and White is a directory of various serial publications (magazines, newsletters, journals, etc.) throughout the United States that are focused on the Black LGBTQ experience. According to the directory, “[t]his project was inspired by the atmosphere of strength, oneness and productivity created by the Million Man March [on October 16,] 1995.”

The Million Man March was a political demonstration that took place at the National Mall in Washington, D.C. with the purpose of encouraging involvement in the improvement of the conditions of African Americans. Eric Jon Rawlins was a Broward County, Florida librarian who at one time was also the second vice president of the NAACP Fort Lauderdale branch in the late 1980s.

Currently, the Eric Jon Rawlins Collection consisting of personal and professional papers, as well as his 6,000 vinyl record album collection, are housed at the African American Research Library and Cultural Center Special Collections in Broward County, FL.

[evanesdust]

need you tonight (and always)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Additional Tags: POV Stiles Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Derek Hale, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Deputy Derek Hale, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Crushes, Confessions, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Knotting, Rimming, Second Chances, Getting Together

Summary:

On his way home from work, Stiles's Jeep broke down. Which normally wouldn't have been a problem, except his heat was two weeks early, so he needed to get home. Now. Fortunately, Deputy Derek came to his rescue—in more ways than one.

It was half past ten when Stiles's Jeep broke down.

"Fuck my life," he groaned, banging his head against the steering wheel. He chanted in prayer as he tried the ignition again. "Okay, c'mon, please start. Please start, please start, please start…"

Nothing.

He muttered a curse at the realization that he was stuck, stranded on the side of the road.

"Why now? Why? Why is this my life?" Because while he wasn't surprised the Jeep broke down—honestly, the damn thing was practically held together by duct tape and hope—Stiles would have preferred it to happen at literally any other time than right now.

His stomach cramped on cue, as if he needed to be reminded why his Jeep breaking down sucked so fucking bad right now. His heat hit early. He'd been at the library studying when he started feeling warm. There was already a light flush on his cheeks when he went to the bathroom, but he didn't think anything of it. Not even when he began to grow restless.

It wasn't until he got to work that afternoon that he noticed a lot of people turning his way, their noses held high as they sniffed the air. Two hours into his shift, his boss pulled him aside, telling him there were complaints about allowing an omega in heat to work without scent blockers.

Stiles argued that he wasn't in heat, but then the cramping started.

It played out like a bad movie. His stomach clenched, and his boxers grew damp with slick. Then Brett—a regular at the bakery—came in. He was always so nice, so Stiles was startled when Brett damn near dragged him over the counter and pinned him against it.

Brett's eyes flashed red, and he growled something about Stiles's scent but thankfully had enough control to pull himself away before doing anything more. As Brett ran out of the shop, he glanced over his shoulder, throwing Stiles an apologetic look.

Stiles bit back a curse. His heat wasn't due for another two weeks. Thankfully, he'd managed to make it through the rest of his shift without incident. Of course, it was also spent in the back office, filing paperwork at his boss's insistence.

Seriously, fuck his life.

Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Scott's number. He didn't have the time to try and figure out what was wrong with Roscoe, and who better to call to pick him up than his best friend-slash-roommate, right? Except Scott didn't answer.

So he tried again. "C'mon, Scottie. Pick up, pick up, pick up."

When the call clicked to voicemail for a second time, Stiles remembered Scott was out on a date.

"Wish I were on a fucking date," he muttered. Preferably with his crush, Derek Hale.

They'd met nearly six months ago at a bar. Stiles had been out with friends when Derek walked in. The attraction was immediate. One thing led to another, and within the hour, Derek had Stiles pinned up against a wall and then bent over his couch, their clothes haphazardly strewn around Derek's loft.

Unfortunately, while they had explosive chemistry, any chance of a second time was thrown out the window when Derek learned that Stiles was the sheriff's son. As it turned out, Derek was the newest deputy for the Beacon County Sheriff's Department and didn't want to risk any kind of conflict by screwing around with his boss's son.

Memories of the way Derek had touched him flash through Stiles's mind, making his body hot, his cock hard, and his hole slick.

God, what Stiles would do for a repeat. Seriously. Derek's dick was magnificent.

But that wasn't the only reason Stiles liked Derek. Sure, he was drawn in by Derek's stupidly handsome face, ridiculous muscles, and fantastic cock, but that wasn't what kept his crush alive all these months. Derek was genuinely one of the nicest guys Stiles had ever met. He was always volunteering at the local cat rescue in town. Not only changing the litter boxes and making sure the cats had food and water but also sitting with them. Seriously, the image of Derek Hale cuddling kittens was adorable.

Then, there was the time a storm blew through town, damaging some homes. Derek was the first person to grab a toolbox and ask what he could do to help. And, to top it off, Derek took in three betas who were without a pack. He provided them a safe haven, a home. A family. Honestly, Stiles admired the hell out of him.

Another cramp hit, pulling Stiles out of his thoughts. With a heavy sigh, he called his dad, but there was no answer. He wouldn't be surprised if his dad was still at work, so he called the sheriff's station.

"Beacon County Sheriff's Department. This is Deputy Hale speaking. How may I help you?"

"Er, he-ey, Deputy Hale." Stiles chuckled nervously because, of course, it would be Derek who answered. "It's Stiles."

"Hi, Stiles."

God, the way Derek says his name made a shiver run down Stiles's spine. His pants became uncomfortably damp.

"Stiles?"

"Sorry, um," Stiles cleared his throat. "Is my dad busy? I tried calling his cell, but he didn't answer."

There was some shuffling over the line, presumably as Derek got up from his desk to check.

"His door's closed. He's doing evals this week and called Graeme in a while ago, so he might still be with her. Is this an emergency? I can interrupt."

"Nonono," Stiles said quickly. "When he's done, can you just let him know that my Jeep died again? I'm sitting out by," he glanced around, trying to get a bearing for where he was, "Old Windsor Road."

"My shift's actually done. I can pick you up."

"No, that's— Really, you don't have to. Besides, if you did that, then you'd be going out of your way to take me home. I can wait until my dad's free." And the last thing Stiles needed was for Derek to scent his arousal. Just the thought of Derek being there made him leak more slick.

"Are you sure?" Before Stiles could answer, Derek said, "Actually, Tara just left his office. I'll transfer you now."

Oh, thank God. "Awesome. Thanks, Derek."

"No problem. Just one second."

There was a click and then the line rang twice before his dad picked up. "Sheriff Stilinski speaking."

"He-ey, Dad. You know how I'm your favorite son?"

"You're my only son."

"And therefore your favorite," Stiles insisted.

"Meh. Maybe if you visited more."

"Rude." Stiles rolled his eyes, too used to his dad's teasing. "Anyway, Roscoe died."

"Stiles…" His dad sighed. "I know how important the Jeep is to you, but—"

"I will never abandon this Jeep, you understand me? Ever." Though Stiles knew that at some point, someday, he'd have to give up his mom's old Jeep and find something more reliable. "I'm gonna fix her, but I need to get home first. I already tried Scott, but he didn't answer."

"Alright. Where are you?"

"I'm on—" Stiles was cut off by three rapid beeps. He realized his call dropped when he pulled his phone away from his ear. "Shit."

And, because his life sucked, his phone died as he tried to call back. And, naturally, his portable charger wasn't in the glove compartment where it should be.

Seriously, fuck his life.

What was that old saying? When it rains, it pours? Well, right now, it was a damn torrential downpour.

"I charged you!" Stiles yelled, glaring at his phone as if that would magically turn it back on.

The car was suddenly too small, the metal exterior closing in around him as anger and frustration coursed through his veins, so he climbed out, slamming the door behind him.

The moon hung high in the sky as Stiles paced along the edge of the preserve. The trees cast ominous shadows in the early autumn breeze, their dark fingers stretching toward him in the moonlight.

He'd seen enough horror movies to be freaked out by being alone this close to the woods. These kinds of situations never ended well for guys who were one hundred and forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bone—not to mention how bad his luck had already been tonight.

No, stop!

He was a grown man; he was absolutely not scared. Nope.

A cool gust of wind breezed over Stiles, and he briskly rubbed his hands over his arms, smoothing away the goosebumps as he blew out a breath. "Okay. Okay. This is fine. Everything's fine."

Famous last words.

His stomach clenched, and he hoped his dad was on the way because he seriously needed to get home as soon as possible. He needed his dildo—the knotting one if the way his hole clenched desperately around nothing was any indication.

He briefly considered walking to his dad's. It was closer than his apartment, and he knew he could hole up in his old room during his heat because, as much as he loved Scott, he'd rather have his dad checking in on him. Scott's alpha control was good but not great, and it was always awkward when Scott popped boners just because Stiles was in heat.

But his phone was dead, and there was no way he was walking through the woods without a light source. Plus, if any random alpha came across him… Nope, Stiles didn't even want to think about that. Instead, he thought about his bed and dildo. Absolutely not about Derek because that just made him clench with need. Fuck, he really needed to be filled. Like right now.

It was only a few minutes before a siren wailed and headlights appeared around the bend. Red and blue lights flashed atop the sheriff's cruiser that parked behind Stiles's Jeep, and Stiles sighed in relief.

The driver's side door opened and a tall figure walked toward him, but the moonlight wasn't enough for Stiles to make out any details. It had to be his dad, though.

"Oh, thank God. You have no idea how happy I am to see y—" Stiles stopped short because the person coming closer wasn't his dad.

Fuck.

Seriously, no one should look that good in a uniform, but Derek was easily the most gorgeous man Stiles had ever seen.

Stiles's eyes swept over Derek, whose uniform fit so snugly it practically clung to him—so taut across his thighs, hips, and broad chest it was just shy of indecent. Derek was the epitome of sex on legs. A walking wet dream.

God, and those arms!

Stiles couldn't help but remember how those muscular, tanned biceps held him against a wall as Derek fucked him senseless.

Derek's nostrils flared.

Stiles flushed in embarrassment, in complete mortification. Derek was an alpha werewolf, so there was no way he couldn't smell Stiles's arousal or the slick that was now dripping down his legs. "I am so sorry! What are you doing here?"

"Told your dad I'd pick you up," Derek said, his words now slurring around his fangs. His eyes flashed crimson as his nostrils flared again.

With supernatural speed, Derek was on top of Stiles, pressing him against the Jeep with his face shoved against the crook of Stiles's neck.

Stiles sucked in a breath because that shouldn't have been as hot as it was, but he lost all train of thought because Derek's scruff felt fantastic against his skin.

He moaned wantonly. His cock was hard—painfully so—and he was pretty sure if he dropped trou right now, his boxers would land on the ground with a sickening splat.

"Oh my God, yes!" Stiles gripped Derek's hips, rutting against him as Derek mouthed at his neck. "Pleasepleaseplease."

He'd been tempted to ask Derek about helping him through his heat, but he didn't think Derek would do it since he'd shut down any possibility of a relationship, and Stiles didn't want to make things awkward. Not to mention, Derek probably would have said no, considering Stiles was still the sheriff's son.

Derek wrenched himself away, his chest heaving and his hands clenched at his sides as if it was taking everything to hold himself back. "Get in the cruiser and go."

"Wait, what?" Stiles frowned, confused. 

"I don't—I need—my control…" Derek growled. "You need to go. Now. I can't—I can't control myself around you."

"Why?"

That didn't make any sense because Derek always had impeccable control. Anytime there was a call involving an omega in heat, Derek was the only alpha his dad trusted to deal with it. Like Scott, most alphas had at least some reaction to an omega in heat, like popping a boner or beta-shifting. Not Derek, though. It had earned him quite the reputation and was another reason Stiles thought so highly of him.

"Because it's you!" Derek growled again. "God, your scent. I can't—"

"What about my scent?" Stiles crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed, even though all he wanted to do was get on all fours and present his ass to Derek for the taking.

Derek let out a pained whine. "You smell like cinnamon rolls and home. Sweet and familiar."

Oh.

Oh.

Stiles's eyes went wide. Derek liked him.

Derek liked him.

But why? Their situation hadn't changed at all. Stiles was still the sheriff's son, and if Derek really did like him, he would have said something before now. Right?

Still, all Stiles could think was, "You mean we could have been together this entire time? Months of sex! We've missed months of sex!" His yell echoed through the trees. Shit. Okay, he definitely hadn't meant to say all that out loud. "Not that I just want you for your dick or anything," he quickly added, "but I'm in heat and horny and you're standing there, staring at me like you wanna eat me."

Derek growled again, and when Stiles glanced at him, it looked like Derek was seriously second-guessing his taste in men. Or, at least, his attraction to Stiles. But Stiles couldn't really focus on that right now because he was in heat, and Derek had already admitted to liking him. So, no, Stiles didn't feel bad about being an antagonizing little shit. Not at all.

Plus, there were instincts at play. He was an omega in heat with a very attractive alpha werewolf looking at him like he was the most desirable prey. Like he'd love to just devour Stiles.

And Stiles was more than willing to let him. So, instead of getting in the cruiser, he smirked and stepped back.

"Stiles." Derek's voice was hard, like he was warning Stiles not to tempt him.

Well, where was the fun in that? So without a second thought, Stiles ran.

A howl rang out behind him, the sound echoing through the preserve. Stiles swore he could feel it in his bones, shaking his very core—Derek was calling for him, and Stiles desperately wanted to answer.

His pulse skyrocketed. He let out a shuddering breath as blood surged to his head, drowning out nearly everything until he heard the snap of a branch breaking. The sound filled him with a rush of excitement. His breath hitched and he forced himself to pick up his speed.

Another branch broke, and then another. The sound grew closerclosercloser, and when Stiles glanced behind himself, he tripped and fell onto his ass in his haste to get away. Rocks and twigs dug into his palms as he pushed himself up. He didn't bother dusting off the dirt as he spun on his heels and started to run again.

There was no way he was making this easy for Derek.

Another howl broke through the trees, only this time, it sounded almost gleeful.

Stiles ran until his lungs burned—until his legs gave out. He was pretty sure that Derek could have taken him down by now, but it was like Derek was teasing him.

Like this was a game, and Stiles was the prize.

Stiles pivoted, trying not to trip again as he crouched against a fallen oak tree. His skin tingled, his stomach swooping, and his heart beating an erratic tempo against his ribcage as he tried to outrun an alpha werewolf.

Thwack.

Stiles banged his head against the tree trunk before hauling himself up. His thighs burned as he ran again, wincing as the leaves crunched beneath his feet, giving away his position.

Come on, Stiles, think!

There was a snap of another branch breaking. Stiles blanched as he fell again, and then—

He was pinned. Derek's hard body pressed him to the ground, his teeth settling against Stiles's neck. All it would take was the slightest pressure to pierce his flesh. So Stiles waited.

Only it never came. He whined as the weight on his back disappeared, and then he heard a groan.

Stiles tried to flip over, but strong hands gripped his hips, keeping him still. He squealed in surprise when Derek shoved his face between Stiles's ass cheeks, inhaling like a man starved for air.

Stiles's hole clenched in response, and a thick line of slick dripped between his thighs. Derek released a pleased rumble-purr and lapped at the wet spot on the back of Stiles's pants.

God, Stiles was so ready for Derek to fuck him now.

"I will," Derek said, his voice low and rough.

Shit. Stiles must have said that out loud.

"Please. Please, Derek." Stiles seriously needed to be filled—needed something as the first wave of heat took over.

"I've got you, baby."

Stiles had never really cared for terms of endearment, but Derek could call him anything right now, and he wouldn't care.

Cold air hit Stiles's ass as the back of his jeans and boxers were ripped open, the tattered fabric falling against his thighs. He glanced over his shoulder and glared, but the look of hunger on Derek's face instantly made him forget why he was mad.

Then Stiles forgot how to breathe because Derek's face was back between his asscheeks, his breath ghosting along the crack, followed by strong, slow sweeps of his tongue over Stiles's hole.

"Taste so good," Derek murmured like he was unwilling to pull away for even a second. "Missed this. Dreamt about tasting you again."

Derek's fingers joined in on the action, and Stiles reached back, brazenly spreading himself wide open for Derek.

It was like every sensation has been amplified by a thousand. Every bead of sweat felt heavy on Stiles's skin; the tickle and scratch of Derek's scruff against his ass sent jolts of pleasure up Stiles's spine. He was so keyed up that it wouldn't take long for him to get off with the way Derek was working him over.

"You have such a greedy hole. So hot and tight, sucking me in like you'll never get enough," Derek praised, his voice gruff as he crooked his fingers just right. Stiles cried out, barely managing to snake a hand under himself to wrap around his own cock before it pulsed, the warmth of his release spilling over his fingers. Still, he kept stroking until he had nothing left and his muscles stopped convulsing.

Derek growled hungrily, flipping Stiles over to lap at his balls and spent cock. Stiles lifted his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers, smirking when Derek growled again. Then Stiles moaned as Derek grabbed his hand, bringing it to his mouth, lapping up the rest of the cum on Stiles's fingers.

"Oh, fuck. That's hot." Once Derek licked every trace of cum from his fingers, Stiles asked, "Are you gonna fuck me now?"

Derek grunted, and somehow Stiles knew that was Derek-speak for 'yes.' Except instead of lining his cock up and driving into Stiles, Derek stood, easily hoisting Stiles up with him, too—one hand settled on his ass to hold him up. Stiles instinctively wrapped his legs around Derek's waist and opened his mouth to ask where they were going.

"Not here," Derek interrupted before Stiles could even speak. "I'm not knotting you in the middle of the woods."

Stiles bit back a grin. He loved that even though Derek's control was tenuous right now, he had enough sense for that. He also loved that Derek slid two fingers into his hole, knowing how desperate he was to be filled. Stiles clenched around his fingers and moaned. Now that he'd had an orgasm, it would be wave after wave of heat for the next four days. He couldn't even bring himself to care that Derek was carrying him through the woods, ass out on display for all to see while Derek was still fully clothed in his deputy's uniform.

"Ah, God, your fingers feel so good." Stiles rolled his hips and mouthed at Derek's neck. When Derek crooked his fingers just right, Stiles moaned again.

It wasn't enough, though. Stiles became frustrated as he keened and pushed back for more.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry," Derek said, adding a third finger. "We're almost there, I promise."

Stiles didn't respond, palming himself until he came again, Derek's name on his lips. Always Derek. Only Derek.

Derek increased his pace, and soon, they were in front of a house Stiles had never seen before.

"Where—?"

"It's the pack house," Derek told him, pausing at the base of the front porch steps. Stiles whined when Derek's fingers slipped out of him. "It's okay, it's okay," Derek soothed. He shrugged out of his jacket, quickly covering Stiles's ass before hurrying up the steps and kicking the door open so hard it splintered the wood.

Stiles blushed at the thoughtfulness.

There was a snort, and when Stiles glanced over his shoulder, he saw Derek's beta, Erica, standing in the entryway. Her arms were crossed, and she had a perfectly plucked brow raised. "The door was unlocked, y'know?"

"Not now, Erica!" Derek barked out, tromping past both her and one of the other betas that Derek took in a few months ago. Boyd, if Stiles remembered correctly. Everything was getting hazy, though. All he wanted right now was for Derek to fill him. He wanted Derek's knot.

Derek growled and carried him up the stairs, but not before Stiles distantly heard Erica call out, "We're going to meet Isaac at the bar. Don't do anything I wouldn't d—"

However, her words were cut off as soon as Derek slammed his bedroom door shut.

Derek was surprisingly gentle when he laid Stiles on the center of the bed, considering he had practically devolved into a caveman. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, illuminating Stiles as he fisted the soft, silky sheets. It was like he was under a spotlight.

"Derek. Derek, please. Want you to fuck me so bad," Stiles said, unable to keep quiet under Derek's scrutinizing gaze. "Need you."

The pleas must have worked because the next thing he knew, they were both naked, and Derek's deliciously warm body was blanketing him.

Stiles trembled as Derek's hands trailed over his body, sliding down his sides to his thighs, urging Stiles to spread his legs. Derek settled between them, cupping Stiles's ass and lifting him slightly.

Derek's fingers were at Stiles's hole again, gathering slick on his fingers, then running them over his—quite honestly—massive cock and getting it wet.

"Are you ready?" Derek asked breathlessly, lining himself up.

Stiles's back arched off the bed as he looked up at Derek with desperate, pleading eyes. "Fuck me. Need it. Need to feel you inside of me. Pleasepleaseplease."

Derek growled and rocked forward, sliding inside him with one smooth thrust. Stiles cried out and threw his head back. When Derek found an angle that had him hitting Stiles's prostate with every thrust, Stiles released the white-knuckle grip he had on the sheets in favor of raking his blunt nails down Derek's back.

The bed creaked as they rocked in perfect rhythm, and Stiles mindlessly murmured his pleasure. Yes. More. Fuckfuckfuck.

Derek growled with each thrust, repeating the same word over and over again. "Mine."

"Yours," Stiles assured him. "Only yours. My alpha."

"Mine."

"Yoursyoursyours," Stiles cried as he dug his feet into the firm, muscular globes of Derek's ass.

Derek growled against his neck, nipping and sucking what were sure to be dark, red bruises into his skin. "You don't even know—fuck—how much I've missed this. Wanted this. God, Stiles—"

Stiles muttered a string of curses and pleas as Derek fucked him mercilessly, sending jolts of white-hot electricity throughout his body.

"Fuck," Derek moaned, rutting into Stiles—faster, deeper, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a syncopated rhythm against their primal grunts and groans and Stiles's helpless whimpers.

His hole pulsed around Derek's cock. His legs clenched around Derek's waist, and he came for the third time that night with a shout, stifling his scream into the crook of Derek's neck as he shook through his release.

Derek kissed him, hot and insistent. Stiles couldn't help but moan into Derek's mouth when his hole stretched even more as Derek's knot swelled. It caught against Stiles's rim a few times until Derek couldn't pull out any longer. Every pulse of Derek's cock sent shock waves through Stiles's body. He'd never felt so full. So sated.

Stiles was hypnotized by the look of pleasure that contorted Derek's face. It was a look of almost-awed pain, as if this were so good, it might just kill him.

Derek ground against him forcefully until Stiles cried out Derek's name again as another orgasm hit him out of nowhere. It was everything he'd ever wanted, yet more than he'd ever dreamed of at the same time. He felt amazing—panting hard and completely out of breath while his whole body tingled with pleasure.

So good, so perfect.

"Mine," Derek said again, collapsing on Stiles's chest. They were slick with sweat, but neither could be bothered to move.

Stiles could tell Derek was in full control again when he trailed a hand down his side, his touch featherlight.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Derek asked quietly.

"No. Feels good. So full." Stiles blushed when Derek pushed up from his elbows to look down between them. As he pictured his hole stretched over Derek's knot, he clenched reflexively, sending another shiver down his spine.

God. His hole probably looked fucking obscene.

Derek made a pained sound and grabbed Stiles's hips to still him. "Keep doing that and it won't go down any time soon."

"How long?" Stiles asked since Derek hadn't knotted him the last time.

Derek leaned down, nuzzling into the crook of Stiles's neck. "Don't know. I've never actually knotted anyone before."

The news surprised Stiles. "You haven't?"

"I've never wanted to."

"But you do now?" Because Derek liked him. For some reason, Stiles pictured Sandra Bullock's character from Miss Congeniality and sang, "You think I'm gorgeous. You want to date me. You want to love me. Marry me."

"Yes. I want that," Derek said seriously before his face softened. "Somehow, despite the fact that you're clearly insane—"

"Hey!"

"—I like you. I always have, but I was being stupid."

"You were," Stiles said with a nod, smiling softly as his heart flipped in his chest. "Not gonna let you be stupid anymore."

"I know. In fact, I already asked your dad for his permission to—"

"You asked my dad," Stiles interrupted, "for permission to date me?"

"I asked him how he would feel if we started dating." Derek held his finger to Stiles's lips to stop him from interrupting again. "It was just a courtesy since he is my boss, but I've been working up the courage to ask you out for the past few months. Him saying yes was just reassurance because if you hated me at all, then I'm pretty sure he would have told me not to bother."

"Months?" Stiles shook his head, not understanding why Derek would think he hated him.

"I know I messed things up when I found out you were my boss's son. You've kept your distance, and I was sure it was because you didn't want anything to do with me anymore."

"That's not true! I was respecting your decision."

"I know. I know that now." Derek brushed his fingers down the side of Stiles's face, smiling softly.

Stiles sighed. "Well, at least that explains why my dad was acting weird during dinner last week. He kept grinning. It was…disturbing."

Derek chuckled. "Speaking of which…do you wanna let your dad or Scott know that you'll be spending your heat here?"

"Yeah, I should. Can I borrow your phone? Mine's dead."

"Of course."

Thankfully, Derek's pants were close, so he was able to grab his cell phone with a minimal amount of maneuvering. Stiles sent a quick message to both his dad and Scott so they didn't worry. Then, as much as he hated to admit it, exhaustion pulled at him. Multiple orgasms in a short amount of time would do that to a person.

He yawned. "'m tired."

"Okay." Derek kissed his shoulder. "Sleep. I'll get you cleaned up as soon as my knot goes down."

Stiles whined at the thought of not being filled.

"Shh...it's okay. Trust me, baby. I'll take care of you," Derek said, giving him a sweet kiss. "Wait, let's—" He wrapped his arms around Stiles and carefully flipped them until Stiles was lying on top of him. "There. How's that? More comfortable?"

Stiles mumbled his agreement incoherently, even though he would have been perfectly fine with Derek's weight over him. Derek's knot tugged deliciously at his rim, but he couldn't stop his eyes from closing. With Derek's arms holding him tightly, he fell asleep to the rhythmic rise and fall of Derek's chest against his cheek and a warm, happy feeling in his gut. One that was filled with promises of tomorrow, their future, and forever.

[ephemeramedia]

The World Shines (As I Cross The Macon County Line)

banner cred to @cafekitsune!!

Will Graham/Reader

Synopsis: You convince Will to cuddle with you because it's cold and you love him.

A/N: Okay so this is my first real FF that I'm posting ever and it's not beta read so if there's mistakes just pretend they're not there mkay thanks. Not rly a songfic but there is a song in it and that song is Going To Georgia by The Mountain Goats. Also this is my official bid for someone to buy me an I Heart Bingo mug. Also also gonna post this to AO3 as soon as i get my acc sorted, and ill link it here.

Word Count: 1105

Warnings: an embarrassing amount of domesticity

---------

The canopy of darkness was beginning to lift from the closed yet sheer curtains that shifted when your shoulders brushed against it. The Virginia morning winter was harsh and you knew it would only get harsher as the hours passed the day away. In some way, you felt bad about moping around the kitchen while Will was out at work, but you knew it would only be a matter of time before January cleared and you could start again trying to convince one of the libraries in Maryland to hire you for over the minimum wage. 

What would not happen nearly as fast as you pleased was the water that was stuck under 100 °C in the kettle, boiling. Sighing, you turned up the stove. 

Music drifts throughout the almost frigid air, around tinny, plywood walls, and it meets your ears in a soft resounding pattern. After the kettle starts to whistle, you sing along in quiet victory. 

“...The most extraordinary thing in the world, I have two big hands and a heart pumping blood,” You pour the water into your ‘I ♡ BINGO’ mug. Today would be an English Breakfast day, just like every other day. A good day. 

You feel the dogs settled beside your feet rise and move toward the front of the house, shortly before hearing the door open. A few beats pass counted by soft thuds on the floor growing louder and Will moves to meet you where you stand. His rough hands wrap around your waist from behind you, and his chin nestles in your shoulder. The song begins its second verse. 

“More bass today. Not bad for this weather, I think,” He breathes into you. You turn to face him, and his hands never leave your body. 

“Your hands are cold,” Will tries to move away but you free one of your hands to trap him against you. He turns his head to huff a laugh but you catch his face and press his grinning lips to yours. You hum into him. 

“I think it might be up to us to keep each other warm,” You take another sip of your tea. “Maybe I could convince you to stay in for the rest of the day?”

Will brings his head up to glance at the ceiling, the look he gives when he’s already resigned himself to you. 

“I’ve got to chop wood for the fire, darlin’. You know I can’t-” You shush him. 

“Again, I’m not sure having a fire will matter when we’re-,” Your only free hand reaches down to palm his ass, “So close already.” It was really an unnecessary ploy on your part, because as you began speaking he gently pulled the mug from your hands and set it on the counter behind you. Grabbing him didn’t help his case of not dropping it on the floor, but the blush that freckled his cheeks gave away how eager Will was to follow you anywhere. 

“Well,” Will huffed out a breath that condensed in the air, “You certainly make a convincing argument.” You giggled at his eager tone and hooked one of your fingers around his belt loop. With an incredible amount of concentration, Will managed to follow you away from the kitchen and into the living room. 

The living room, or the first room in the house, was where the bed was. It was where the only bed was. When you moved in, you had tried to convince Will to, at least, have an air mattress upstairs. After cost-benefit analyzing it, you gave into having the bed right in front of the front door on the condition that Will took the drafty side. Honestly, it wasn’t too uncomfortable, and the stairs creaked anyway. 

As you led Will to the bed, both you and him took considerable steps to avoid the plethora of dogs littered about the floorspace. 

Once you were at the foot of the mattress, you looked back at Will. His cheeks were pink and looked frostbitten, but you knew better. Will Graham doesn’t blush at the cold, he blushed at you. It did help that it was 7 °C, regardless. He took a step towards you and you pull him under the covers. 

Wordlessly, Will places gentle kisses on your skin, starting at your cheekbones and going lower until he reaches your collar bone, and then lets his face rest on your shoulder. You preen at the physical attention, and then shiver. 

“I wish I could stay like this forever.” You hear him mumble into your shirt. You smile softly and tug him further into you so that your bodies might become one. There’s a lot of blanket shifting before one of his hands reaches up under the hem of your shirt. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking freezing,” You jump. You lower your head to meet his eyes looking up at you, and you decipher the mischief in his grin. 

“You’re the one who suggested this, darlin’.” Will pushes himself forward and your lips meet, slowly and then all at once. 

With the comforter pulled up over both of your shoulders, you ended the embrace by tilting your head down so as to separate your lips but then connect your foreheads. Hot breath covers your face and you blink. You hum. 

Moving again, Will’s hands travel back down and grasp your waist firmly. Then you’re weightless, his seemingly infinite strength lifting you up and over him until you’re straddling his hips. The sudden shift lets a breeze into the space between you and Will, and you lower your chest to meet his and close the gap. Will sighs. 

“Now I’m never getting up,” He laughs into the top of your head. 

From the other side of the room, Winston barks at something outside the window, a bird, probably. He barks again at the start of a new song that drifts through the house. 

A cloud passes through the sky and uncovers the bright sun, which does nothing for the cold and everything to blind Will through the thin curtains. Will removes one of his hands from you and drapes it over his face, shielding his eyes. You stay like this until another cloud comes, when Will tilts your head up to kiss you. You lean into it, and you bring one of your hands up to pass your finger through Will’s curly brown hair, gold in the sunlight. A few beats pass. 

‘My tea is going to be so cold.” One of Will’s thumbs smooths out the wrinkle of concern between your eyebrows. 

“You can always make more.” Your lips meet again. 

“I know.”

[antikate]

I genuinely think romance is a deeply underrated genre that is sneered upon because of its associations with femininity; I think it’s utopian and hopeful and worthwhile and I crave good romance stories. At the same time I hate most romance novels that I try to read.

I had Covid this week and for a few days was too sick to even look at a book or screen so I downloaded a bunch of audiobooks from the library and I gave up on every single one of them:

1. Notorious by Minerva Spencer. I noped out of this a few pages in when one character was described as delectable and luscious and another character’s eyes were described as orbs. The book also comes with a whole heaping of misogyny and Islamophobia apparently.

2. Georgie All Along by Kate Clayborn. The first ??? 20 ??? Or so pages of this book consist of the heroine back in her home town and going into a deli to order a coffee and not having enough money to pay for it because she left her wallet in the car. 20 pages!!! It’s humiliating and is literally like being stuck in the head of the most neurotic person you’ve ever met. Page after page of this woman ruminating about what a loser she is. Exhausting! And I say this as someone who can ruminate at the Olympic level.

3. Pretty Pretty Boys by Gregory Ashe. This one is an m/m series about two cops who fall in love and I had hopes that it might be solid but the characterization was basically “whatever the author felt like writing”. Also the cops act like cops as in they’re abusive to random people and spend a lot of time being horrible, which I don’t really need in a romance.

4. Not Your Average Hot Guy, Gwenda Bond. Idk this was just. A bit? Boring? Also everyone was just a bit too self consciously sassy. The heroine runs an escape room but one of her props turns out to be actually a demonic book. I think one of my issues with this book and so many other romance novels is that banter is a real skill and most people can’t write it. But everyone, regretfully, tries.

5. Liar City, Allie Therin. There’s this one audiobook narrator who has such a snotty voice that I just cannot. This book might have been great but the instant I started listening I knew it was that dude. Maybe I’ll try it as an actual book.

6. The Blacksmith Queen by GA Aiken. This is one of the worst books I’ve ever tried to read. Truly. The heroine is a blacksmith and the hero is a centaur, which I thought sounded fun (also I was wondering how they’d have sex because I’m like that) but it was … puerile? Astonishingly stupid?

7.Capture the Crown, Jennifer Estep. This is also an absolutely idiotic book. The hero has amethyst eyes and the heroine has some other gem coloured eyes and someone else has sapphire eyes and if you took a shot every time it someone’s eye colour was described as a jewel tone you’d be hospitalised for alcohol poisoning by about page four.

8. A taste of gold and iron, Alex Rowland. This is decently written - as in the prose is solid - but the plot is half baked, the characters are tedious, and the world building is intriguing but paper thin. I’d say it’s a much better book than most here, but I still couldn’t bring myself to finish.

Not everything I’d read lately has been terrible so here’s some romance or romance adjacent books I have actually enjoyed:

1. The Heart Principle by Helen Hoang: This book is not going to change your life but it does what sets out to do with a slight if entertaining love story.

2. The Secret Lives of County Gentlemen, KJ Charles: I think Charles is one of the best and smartest historical romance writers I’ve ever read. Her books are everything I want out of romance: the characters are interesting, idiosyncratic, and sympathetic; the details feel right; the stories work; and the sex scenes are both hot and do important plot and character work. Her books are swoony and emotional and feel very real while still being romantic. (The audio narrator of this let it down a little because he took a lot of odd pauses but I’m being super nitpicky.)

3. A Far Wilder Magic, Allison Saft: This is a sweet YA novel set in an interesting fantasy world - I really enjoyed the prickly heroine and her dog.

4. In Memoriam, Alice Winn: This beautiful, heart-rending novel is not exactly a romance - it’s set during WW1 and has very explicit and realistic scenes set in the trenches. The trauma and suffering of the war are achingly portrayed. But it is a love story between two young soldiers, even if it’s not necessarily one with an easy or simple ending. Highly recommend with the caveat that Winn does not shy away from the brutality and senselessness of WW1.

5. Thornhedge, by T Kingfisher: This is a brief but resonant Sleeping Beauty retelling. Not exactly a romance but also not unromantic. My only complaint is that I wanted more. I’m a big T Kingfisher fan, and I adore her practical, earthy characters (like Toadling).

6. We Could Be So Good, Cat Sebastian: I’m here for everything Sebastian writes. Her books are low stakes but still compelling, her characters are likeable and complex, I actually enjoy her banter, and she has a knack for capturing historical details and moments. Her conflicts never feel fake and the resolutions are always earned.

[xmissrogersx]

“Video Games” | Joel Miller

tags: Post-Outbreak. Jackson life. Domesticity. Fluff. Ellie being the cutest daughter.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

pris masterlist

A summer day was passing through the small community of Jackson. The trees provided a pleasant breeze that urged the children to play in the streets before going to school; and the flowers in the windows of the houses provided colors that made them forget the darkness of the outside world.

-That's all for today, honey —Maria peeked down the hallway.

-Are you sure you don't need me? I can stay and help you.

-Of course not, you covered a lot of time when I had to take care of my neglectful husband —she exclaimed, making us both laugh.

I grabbed my bag and walked out of the cozy little library and walk to home. Home. After so many years, i have a home to come back. I crossed the only street to see him at the end of the driveway, sitting on the front porch playing his guitar next to Ellie.

-Paris! Look... —she played a few light chords, causing Joel to look up with fatherly pride.

-I knew you'd make it.

-I have to go tell Lily —she got up and walked out as if his life depended on it, but came back to give me a brief but tender hug.

-Thank you for helping me with my literature homework, I wouldn't have understood a shit what the author was saying if it wasn't for you —and before I could answer she ran back to her friend's house.

Excitement was getting the better of me again as I tried to keep my eyes from watering. I turned to see Joel with his gaze locked on me, which was getting darker as his brown orbs swept over me. I bit my lower lip in provocation.

-Come here, angel —he patted his thigh and extended his hand.

Taking refuge in his strong arms, smelling his pine scent mixed with the slight hint of scotch, as I snuggled into his chest was the definition of what I enjoyed most about my day.

-How was work? —he asked, stroking my leg, lifting the fabric of my dress slightly.

-Just me and a stack of books. I love it. I helped a couple of guys look for one...¡oh!, and one girl wanted to read a story about friendship and adventure. Please Joel tell me if I'm talking too fast —I covered my face in embarrassment.

His laughter echoed in my ears, sending a shock through my body. Every time he laughed I recorded his melody in my mind.

-I could never get tired of listening to you, darlin’. And what book did you recommend her?

-Little Women. I remember when I was little I managed to smuggle it out of the QZ zone. It helped me forget about all the crap outside for a while. I'd pretend I was one of the March sisters, and I'd play Pilgrims and decorate the house for the holidays.

-You can do it now —I cocked an eyebrow at her response.-Ellie would like it. She loves everything you do together, and Maria could help you with the costumes.

I reached up to his face to place a kiss on his chin, cheek and forehead, and then our lips met. I wanted him to know that I adored how he protected and adored me day by day. And that I was his, today and always.

-Joel Miller, you old softie —I said, earning a pinch on my thighs.

-Do you want to know what you're doing to this old man by wearing that dress?

My lungs had run out of air in a second, despite the rushing wind. That's what Joel was doing to me. I nodded slightly, playing along. I put my legs on either side of his lap, and rested my hands on his chest.

I unbuttoned his shirt, and caressed the scars that adorned his torso, kissing them one by one, as I lowered my hand to the buckle of his pants.

-You're playing with fire, princess —he moaned softly, making me feel powerful as I saw the effect I was having on him.

The county had gathered in the movie theater, leaving the place empty. What an excellent coincidence.

[faeriekit]

Haha, so... Funny story... I saw your "How to get a library card" post right before I was about to go out and get one today, and I read it and tried to follow instructions... Only to show up at the library and find out the I registered for a state library card instead of for my county/city OTL On the bright side, the person who helped was super nice and I managed to get my card anyways after filling it out the necessary stuff at the library... On the other hand OTL

Hey, "multiple library cards" was on the table!! I'll take it!!

I'll also say, if you successfully signed up for both cards, even if you didn't want to go to the state library in person (I know most are out of the way for most people), you can still mooch off of their digital resources at any point.... 👀 I'm just saying...they probably have a Libby or Overdrive account...

Huzzah for the librarians who helped you out! 📚

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Would Things Be Easier If There Was A Right Way

Pairing: Dilf!Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: they argue so everyone's a lil sad for a bit but it's okay

Genre: It couldn't be ALL fluff in this series now could it? (it could but where's the fun in that) have some angst fluffy ending though because I'm soft for Dilf Bucky

Summary: It's not always smooth sailing with your boyfriend, sometimes you get into disagreements even when you're on the same side

***

As you walk quickly down the street to your local cafe you tug your jacket a little closer to your body. It's not yet so cold that walking is unbearable but when the wind picks up you're reminded that winter is getting closer. It's a professional day for the county so although it's a Wednesday, the kids are out of school today. You've been using the day to catch up on putting in grades and decided it was time for a break. That's what brings you to the line at your favorite place to get coffee. You order a warm drink and a pastry, finding a seat near the window to enjoy your little snack. You watch idly from your spot as people walk by the giant window, all of them rushing to get out of the windy weather and to their destinations. You frown to yourself when you notice a little girl that looks to be by herself across the street from your cafe. You glance around curiously, instinct causing you to worry when you don't see any adult who seems to be particularly watching after the child. Your mild concern turns to full on worry when you catch a glimpse of the child's face that makes you gasp. That little girl looks an awful lot like Lily. When she turns again you realize it is Lily and you're out of your seat without a second thought. You cross the street as quickly as you can and call out to her.

"Lily!" Her head snaps to you and she meets you with a smile as you walk over to her.

"Oh hi, y/n. Boy am I glad to see you." She says with a huff.

"What on earth are you doing here Lily?" You frown, crouching beside her.

"Well I was supposed to go to the library with daddy today but when I woke up he was gone and I tried to wait, I even called him, but after a while, I figured I would just go without him because I thought he forgot about me."

"Are you telling me you tried to go to the library by yourself? How did you plan to do that?" You blink at her.

"Well I've been enough times I thought it'd be easy, but I'm pretty sure I took the wrong bus." She frowns.

"You got on a public bus alone?!"

"Well I can't drive. How else was I supposed to get there?" She shrugs.

"You were supposed to wait for an adult to take you. You don't even have a bus pass."

"I don't but I have an allowance and the bus takes coins."

"Lily sweetie you are entirely too young to be galavanting around the city without an adult. You should know better."

"Matilda was going to the library at like five. I'm twice that." She pouts.

"Matilda is a fictional character in a movie made before you were born, the fact that her family just let her wander around is not something you should be envious of little flower. It was bad." You frown. You let out a sigh and shake your head, "I'm going to call your dad and we'll see about getting you home." You tell her pulling out your phone. You dial Bucky's number quickly and sigh again when it goes to voicemail. "Well daddy didn't answer so we're going to go back to my apartment and wait for him to call back." You tell her. Lily grabs your hand and the two of you make the short trek back to your apartment. You set her up with a bowl of goldfish and some cartoons while you wait for Bucky to call you back. You're kind of in disbelief that she hopped on a bus by herself and somehow ended up in your neighborhood safely. It's almost an hour later when your phone rings.

"Hey y/n, you called me?" Bucky says when you pick up the phone.

"I did! Are you home?" You ask.

"Just walking to the door now how did you know?"

"Well I just wanted to let you kn-"

"Wait a second why is my door open?" He mutters.

"Oh I thi-"

"Hang on doll, I left Lily to take care of something and the door was open when I got back." Bucky says quietly. You can hear him calling out for Lily as he walks through the house, each unanswered call making the next a bit more frantic.

"Bucky?" You call him after a few minutes.

"Sorry y/n I just- Lily is missing. She's not here and I-"

"James she's not missing. She's with me. That's why I called you." You finally manage to tell him.

"What is she doing with you?"

"Well the story goes she got impatient waiting for you so she tried to take herself to the library and took the wrong bus. I was out and happened to see her across the street so brought her to my apartment." You explain.

"She got on a bus? By herself?!" Bucky's voice gets a bit louder when he asks that.

"I'm as surprised as you are. Did you want me to bring her to you or are you going to come get her?"

"I'll come there. Give me like 20 minutes." Bucky says.

"Alright, just text or call when you get here." You tell him. He hums an affirmative before hanging up. "Lily, that was your dad, he's on his way to pick you up." You tell her.

"Am I in trouble?" Lily asks quietly.

"Well, I can't say for sure but probably. You left without an adult and didn't tell your dad or any of your guardians- you really worried him." You tell her.

"I just wanted to go to the library." She pouts.

"The library isn't going anywhere. I'm sure your father will never let you out of his sight again but he can still take you. Maybe just, not today." You offer kindly. A little over twenty minutes later you get a text from Bucky saying he's downstairs. You take Lily down to where Bucky is standing, leaning against his car. He scoops Lily into his arms quickly, hugging her tightly before pulling back to look at her.

"Don't you ever do something like this again Lily do you understand me?" He says sternly. Bucky tugs open the door of the car and starts to buckle her into her booster seat.

"I just wanted to go to the library daddy." Lily pouts at him.

"You know better than to leave the house without me or one of your uncles. What were you thinking?"

"I've ridden the bus before!"

"Not alone! Look we will talk about this when we get home." Bucky sighs standing up and closing the door to the car. "This girl will be the death of me." Bucky shakes his head.

"She's a curious one for sure." You muse.

"I can't believe you didn't get in touch with me when you realized she was wandering by herself. A text or something, this was an emergency."

"An emergency? That's an exaggeration I think. Besides, I called you and you didn't answer remember? I didn't think it was necessary to blow up your phone because she was sitting on my couch eating goldfish and therefore she was safe. It's not like she was in any danger."

 "It isn't for you to decide what's an emergency. You aren't her mother. Lily's safety is my responsibility." Bucky snaps. Your eyes widen momentarily before your face sets into a frown.

"Yeah I- I know I'm not her mother, I'm not trying to be but I've also known her for over a year and was her teacher so I thought that since you weren't reachable I would be considered a responsible adult who can be trusted with Lily's safety. I guess won't make that back mistake again." You cross your arms, confused as to why he lashed out at you. Your words hang in the air for a moment before Bucky lets out a sigh.

"Y/n-" Bucky reaches for you but you step back away from his reach.

"I have to, finish putting in grades so I'm going to go back up to my apartment. I'm just glad nothing happened to your daughter before I found her." You say. You turn around and walk back towards your apartment before Bucky can say anything. You almost want to look back at him as you walk away but you will yourself not to, sure you'll lose your resolve if you do. You almost think maybe it's a bit much for you to be upset about this, you want to be understanding, but you can't help taking his response personally. Back in your apartment, you try to focus your attention on work. Everything takes you much longer than usual but you do manage to get it done eventually, even with Bucky's scathing words ringing in the back of your mind. 

~

When the bell rings, you glance at the clock with surprise.

"Alright kids everyone grab your bookbags. Make sure your homework is written down, I'll see you all tomorrow!" You say and your kids are quick to pack up. You set yourself up at your desk to do some work while the kids trickle out to meet their parents and get on their buses. A knock on your doorframe causes you to look up from your computer.

"James." Surprise is clear in your tone as you pull your glasses off of your face.

"Hi, hope I'm not interrupting." He says quietly as he walks in with one arm behind his back.

"Not particularly, the school day is over. What are you doing here?" You stand from your desk to meet him halfway.

"Apologizing." Bucky's arm comes out from behind him, a bouquet of flowers in hand. "I was, way out of line last week. I was really stressed over the fact that Lily had done something so risky and I took it out on you which I shouldn't have done and I'm sorry."

"It's alright James." You say, taking the flowers from him.

"It's not alright. I hurt you, I saw that the minute I said it and I never want to do that to you. If it weren't for you we'd probably be having a very different conversation about Lily that day. I didn't even thank you, I was busy drawing lines in the sand because of my own fears-" Bucky trails off with a strange look.

"Fears?" You prompt curiously.

"Lily adores you. Truthfully it worries me sometimes. I mean of course I want her to get along with the person I'm seeing but, you're also the first person I've dated since she came home. I- I worry that if things go south, if I screw this up, Lily's going to get hurt in the crossfire." He frowns.

"Neither of us can predict the future, but I can say that if you let your insecurities rule your life that way you won't be able to enjoy things even if they do last." You offer, "and don't assume you're going to screw things up. I really like you Bucky, and I understand this is new to you but building trust has to start somewhere."

"I know- you're right and I do trust you, this is just- all very new to me and it's intimidating. How much I care about you, how much Lily cares too."

"And we'll figure it out, but we'll do it together." You say placing a hand on his arm comfortingly.

"You are so much more than anything I could've expected." Bucky whispers.

"Don't say that like you don't deserve me." You warn him. Bucky chuckles.

"How did you- maybe you know me more than I thought." He hums.

"I'm learning." You smile and Bucky laughs again.

"Lily's in the car so I have to go, but I'll call you. Okay?" Bucky says.

"Okay. That's fine. Go be a dad." You joke. Bucky laughs as he leaves your classroom. You know relationships aren't always easy but if this is how you and Bucky resolve arguments you honestly think things will be just fine. Even though he's worried for nothing.

***

Tagged Users: @marvel-fandom23 @alana4610 @marvel-wifey-86

Anthology Masterlist

[lokisgoodgirl]

I'm here! I'm here! Fluffy asks!!! 😍😍😍

So I have an idea that have been toying in my head but I can't seem to get inspo for. So, hopefully you might.

It's the county fair / carnival fic. Where maybe Loki is hesitant to go. But you stick with him anyway. And maybe he wins you a stuffed animal or something. 🙀🥰

And if for some reason 😈 you want to venture out of the fluff back into secksy time. That's fine too. 😁

Fluffy-Drabble Marathon A link to my FLUFF Library is here Warnings: Not a bean. (w/c 850) A link to my Masterlist is here [18+]

The Teddy "Bear"

“Let me get this straight” Loki purred, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “in order for me to prove my affections to a midgardian woman, I must procure this inanimate beast?” You shrugged, an amused smirk toying at your lips as you tried to remain stoic. “I mean...sure, if you want to put it like that.” The bald man behind the carnival stall nodded confidently, tucking his thumbs into his extended waistband, “I dunno where you’re from pal, but roun’ here we treat our women right.” Loki turned to you with his eyebrows raised, “Your earthly rights of passage never fail to underwhelm me, darling” he murmured, as he passed five dollars to the man pinched between his forefinger and thumb with an air of disgust.

“Right” he said, rolling back his shoulders. “What do I need to do in order to victoriously capture that large green...what is that darling?” “A bear.” you said, watching his eyebrows shoot up again. “No it’s not.” he replied, his tone barely containing his distaste for the whole mortal affair he found himself caught up in. “It is” you said casually, enjoying his torment slightly. He’d made such a dramatic fuss of coming at all that it seemed a shame to waste it now that he was finally enjoying himself. “It’s a teddybear.” “A what?” he blustered, “A teddy bear? What in nine hels? You ridiculous mortals. To debase a fearsome creature so with your garish textiles and plush innards."

“Ya gotta pop three balloons, pal. Ya get ten darts and that’s it. Game over. Think you’re man enough?” the stallmaster goaded jovially as he extended a fistful of allocated darts to the disbelieving god. “I am not a man.” Loki spat, as you raised your palm to his chest, a quiet whisper of not here in his ear re-centring him as he sighed deeply; the stall owner looking on in amusement. “This is absurd.” your boyfriend muttered, as he inspected a dart between his fingers; eyeing you to the side of him as you smiled widely in anticipation. “Come on, you said you’d give it a go…” you keened, “it’s your colours and everything.” “Fear not, my love. I shall claim you this so-called ‘teddy’ bear which you desire, mark my words.”Loki muttered as he lined up his first shot. Six darts down, and the god of mischief was becoming incandescent with seething rage. “Are you a sorcerer, friend?” he sneered at the stall-master, “Think your clever with your little tricks do you? You will rue the day…” he murmured as his eyes narrowed towards the fully intact wall of balloons. You squinted as his hand retracted, getting ready to fire. Perhaps this hadn’t been a good idea after all. Loki and casual competition didn’t seem to mix. Monopoly night should have taught you that.

The dart soared mercilessly through the air, a sharp crack snapping as it flew effortlessly through the wooden board behind. Still, no balloons fell to his efforts. “Ey’ pal you broke my board…” the man moaned, dipping behind to inspect the damage. “Curses.” Loki muttered, aggressively pulling the hem of his sweater down. “Y/N I am sorry, it appears I shall fail you against the might of this enchanted affectation. The teddy ‘bear’ may slip through my grasp after all. I have failed you” he said regretfully, eyeing the man shuffling towards them behind the counter suspiciously. “You still have three darts left” you said hopefully, holding them out with optimism as he smiled softly down at your endlessly supportive face, “and you’re Loki Laufeyson, that’s got to count for something.” “Indeed, Y/N” he said thoughtfully, grasping the darts in your hand and turning purposefully back to his balloon-wielding nemesis, “indeed I am.” He rolled his shoulders back once more, his biceps flexing against the tight-knit of the sweater. You were secretly hoping it would come to this. You loved when he used his insanely powerful magic for stupid things. He would never do it, unless he felt it necessary. And this allusive teddybear had just become necessary. Oh yes. An imperceptible green glow snaked around his fingertips; encasing the dull dart. His fingers released it, letting it fly straight into a balloon; thrusting through the rubber with a satisfying pop. You cheered violently, your hands shooting involuntarily in the air as Loki gathered you and spun you around. “Yeah, yeah pal...one down, two to go. Remind me how many darts ya got left there?” the bald man jibbed, counting the money in his pouch absent-mindedly. Loki ran one hand through his luscious hair, curls falling in devastatingly handsome waves as he smirked towards the insufferable man, “Two. Which is one too many, friend.” His eyes never left the stall-master’s as he threw the dart to the side, popping a whole line of balloons as it swerved sideways through a row. The water contained in the balloons surged across the man standing amazed at the side, hitting him as his mouth dropped open; spluttering. “H-How, h-how…” he stammered as he shook his hands by his side, waving a wad of five dollar bills now sodden in his clutches. “Lucky shot.” Loki shrugged, as he pulled you flush to his chest, “The teddy bear, my good man? As agreed.” You heard the very wet stall-master grumbling about cheating and out-of-towners as Loki leaned forward to kiss you needily, his passions inflamed by his victory against the dark depths of carnival subterfuge. The bear was thrust upon you, it’s violently green body surrounding two hilariously terrifying eyes that stared up at you judgementally, as Loki beamed with pride. “Consider my affections proved, my love” he said proudly, as you made your way hand in hand towards the ferris wheel. Marathon Tags @lady-rose-moon @michelleleewise @mochie85 @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @lokisninerealms @holdmytesseract @nightshadelm @thedistractedagglomeration @sititran @loopsisloops @theaudacitytowrite @xorpsbane @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @gigglingtigger @lokischambermaid @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[munson-blurbs]

congratulations on 2K!!! that's so cool!

i was wondering if i could request Steve/Library/Romance Novel? (also maybe include glasses!steve if you want because he's my favorite)

congrats again! you deserve it, dear!!! 🫶🏻💗

Thank you! I tried to sneak a little glasses!Steve in there for you. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Brief mention of sex

WC: 917

--

“Hey, Y/N,” your co-worker, Steve, calls from the return cart. “Check this one out.” The two of you are constantly finding the most ridiculous books, daring each other to read them. Steve’s holding up a copy of The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman. “This is your challenge for the week.”

“I accept your challenge,” you say with a knowing smirk, “and raise you this.” You toss him the romance novel that someone had brought back earlier. You’d been saving it for this exact moment since you checked it in earlier.

Steve catches it, wrinkling his nose when he reads the title. “The Duke of Hardwood Kingdom?” he chuckles. “No way. Challenge denied.”

“C’mon, Harrington,” you protest, jutting out your lower lip in a pout, “you haven’t turned one down yet. Are you really gonna let the Duke be your downfall?”

“I guess not,” he grumbles, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose and taking another glance at the cover. “But does he have to be so…naked?”

His comment catches you off-guard, and you bark out a laugh, clapping your hand over your mouth before someone shushes you. “I bet you wouldn’t be complaining if it was a naked woman.”

“No I would not,” he chuckles. “All right, I’ll read it. But I’m only doing this because I can’t turn down a dare,” he insists, pointing the paperback toward you.

“And you never know; it might help you with the ladies,” you tease, and he responds with a flip of his middle finger.

~

Your next shift that coincides with Steve’s isn’t for a few more days. You always get there before he does, and you greet him with a smile. 

“How’s the Duke treating you?” You bat your eyelashes innocently, making him laugh. 

“Thoroughly entertaining. I’ve read about more sex positions than I thought were possible,” Steve confesses. “But he’s always doing way too much, y’know? Like, why does he have to show up everywhere on a horse? Why can’t he just drive, like a normal person?”

“Who shows up everywhere on a horse?” Amy, another librarian, interjects as she flops a stack of returns on the counter. 

“No one,” Steve mutters, just as you say, “Steve’s new best friend, the Duke of Hardwood County.”

Amy raises her eyebrows in disbelief, an amused grin spreading across her face. “Well, maybe it’s because it takes place in 1803? Like, way before cars were invented.” 

“You read it?” Steve asks her, and she nods. “Okay, then I have a question for you.”

“Fire away.”

“What the hell is a petticoat?”

~

The next day, Steve slaps The Duke of Hardwood Kingdom onto the counter triumphantly. “Finished!”

“Congrats,” your voice is dripping with sarcasm as you break out into a slow clap. “And it wasn’t even a picture book.”

“You slay me with your humor,” Steve grunts. “But I will say, it actually wasn’t half bad. Kinda corny, but not the worst book I’ve ever read.”

“Care to share your findings with the class?” you tease, filing the book back into circulation. “Any tips or tricks you picked up from the Duke?”

“Besides traveling via horse?” Steve scrunches his face. “Not really. Oh, but there was one scene where the Duke and Serenity—that was the chick’s name—were dancing at the Grand Ball, and I realized I’ve been dancing all wrong.”

You laugh and start on another stack of returns. “Steve, have you been breaking into the YMCA during the slow songs?” 

Steve rolls his eyes at you when you start doing the moves. “Uh, no. But I just kinda did the whole…here, let me show you.” He awkwardly takes your hands and places them on his shoulders, putting his own hands on your hips. “So I used to slow dance like this.”

“Oh my God,” you throw your head back and giggle. “Steve, this is like how Eddie Munson and I danced at the middle school Snow Ball!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy he feels over a dance you shared when you were thirteen. “But now, thanks to the Duke, I’ll dance like this.” He holds your left hand in his right, and you let your right hand rest on his bicep. “There ya go,” he muses, bringing his free hand to the small of your back and pulling you close. 

“Now we just need some music,” you joke, but Steve’s too lost in your eyes to pick up on it. You’re suddenly aware of the lack of space between you. “Okay, well…” you clear your throat and step back, “gotta get back to these bad boys,” you blurt out, smacking the pile of books for emphasis. Heat creeps up your neck from the embarrassment. 

“Yeah, they’re, uh, not gonna check themselves in,” Steve chuckles nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets. You both get back to work for a few minutes before suddenly saying, “Do you like music? Like, um, listening to it and stuff?”

“Mhm,” you nod, allowing yourself to glance in his direction. 

“Cool.” He bites his thumbnail, a habit you’d noticed he engages in when he’s anxious. “Would you wanna listen to some with me sometime? Maybe tonight after work?”

You smile, unaware that it lights up the room—no, the whole library—for him. “That sounds like fun.”

“Cool,” he repeats, “I’ll see ya then.” He shoots you finger guns as he backs up, nearly walking into the cart. 

“You learn those moves from the Duke, too?”

“Shut up.”

--

[librarycomic]

The Horizon Volume 1 by JH. Translation by Ultramedia. Ize Press, 2023. 9798400900297. 376pp. http://www.powells.com/book/-9798400900297?partnerid=34778&p_bt

This is a post-apocalyptic graphic novel, but it's never quite clear what the apocalypse is. There are dead bodies everywhere on some pages, and the art is nearly black and white, so it's a bit less gory than it might otherwise look. But when the wide-eyed little boy protagonist finds his mother's body, and then tries to gather her brains up and put them back into her head, that put my imagination into overdrive. And then he concludes that the value of life is just an illusion, and starts to walk through a ruined city, past more bodies and abandoned military vehicles and out into the county. He meets a little girl, and it becomes clear whatever violence they've both survived is still happening as bombs fall and people flee. Together they join the crowd (and eventually escape it). And from then on they travel together, taking care of each other.

I have no idea where this series is going, but I can't wait to read Volume 2.

Thanks to Mark de Vera who was at the Yen Press / Ize Press / JY booth at ALA Annual, and who booktalked this series to my wife and me and then gave her the first book. If you're at a library conference and have a chance to talk to Mark about comics, do it -- he always knows about graphic novels I want to read.