#should i tell the library that the copy is damaged? how? one time in the past a book was in such bad shape i actually rubber-banded it

[coquelicoq]

a long shot i know, but if anybody happens to have a copy of the wall of storms (book 2 in the dandelion dynasty by ken liu) and is willing to send me a pic of two of the pages in chapter 7, please let me know!! the copy i got out from the library has a torn page, and though i can pretty much guess what's missing, it would be cool to put a note in there for the next person <3

[chaotic-history]

Thank you @enlitment for the book tag! Putting it in a new post since it's long. This probably isn't the best time to do this when my brain is still brain fogging, but here goes

Last book I read: The Satyricon by Petronius, specifically the 1694 translation (shoutout to V's birth year). It's the second most fully preserved Roman novel, and I don't know what I was expecting from it, but it's just kinda meh? In its defense, the translator has a very specific writing style that didn't read very smoothly for me, so I'm sure it's much better in the original. The best parts imo were Encolpius and the poet complaining about modern (ie, to them) things in the exact same ways that we complain about the exact same things now.

Book I recommend: The Terra Ignota series by Ada Palmer. It's a sci-fi series with a philosophical bent set in the year 2454 and written mostly in the style of the Enlightenment era (the narrator, Mycroft, has a very bad case of 18thC brainrot). One of the things it touches on really well is how gender is perceived in different ways according to different standards, and I don't want to explain that since I think you have to go into the book not knowing a lot-- it's throwing you into a society that's as different from ours as the 18thC is, and you're supposed to feel like that. And I know "the worldbuilding is good" is probably overused, but it really is; parts are fantastical enough to feel like it's verging on a dream, and it's grounded in enough of a potential reality to make even the impossible things seem achievable. Featuring a very politically significant 18thC brothel, the ghost of Thomas Hobbes, the actual Achilles, Humanists, the world's #1 unreliable narrator, and a sex scene taken almost word-for-word from de Sade until the reader asks the narrator to stop.

Also Candide because I need to keep up my streak of convincing people to read Candide.

Book I couldn't put down: Do not underestimate my ability to put down literally anything. That said, the fourth and last Terra Ignota book (can you tell I'm trying very hard to sell it?). I can't say much about it because almost anything at that point is a massive spoiler, but books 1-3 are all gradually building up to a major event in book 4, and it's sort of the quiet kind of suspense where you know what's going to happen, but all you can do is wait and see the extent of the damage, and the main focus of the tension even during it is how you're going to rebuild, and any solution is so painfully flawed but it's something and the narrative drags you along throughout all of it by the sheer force of its hope.

Book I've read twice: Quite a few, but my favorites that I've read multiple times are Catcher in the Rye and L'Immoraliste. I read Catcher in the Rye the first time for class, and I don't want to go on another long rant, but I love Holden so much and I'm incredibly glad that I read the book when I did; I can see so much of myself in him and having sympathy for Holden taught me that maybe I need to have a bit more sympathy for myself as well. Also, sorry Mrs. [redacted] for stealing your copy of the book. It wasn't on purpose but it'd feel weird to return it now.

L'Immoraliste I originally picked up at the library to read the first time because based on the year published and the title I assumed like a 90% chance of it being gay, then I fell in love with the writing style and so I reread it in French. The part where Michel is going out to lay in the sun naked (<- absolutely terrible desc. of it but I can't think of smthn better right now) is up there in my top three book scenes ever.

A book on my TBR: Way too fucking many, reader, way too fucking many. On the top of the list right now is Goethe's Faust since I'm intrigued by @iron--and--blood's Faust AU for Morton's Hope, and also since I should maybe read some philosophy that isn't just French (does Goethe count as a philosopher? At least by the 18thC definition I think he could). And Goethe said V was good, so at least I know he has good taste.

Also I should maybe finally start reading all the Molière/Racine/Corneille stuff I've been stocking up on lol.

A book I've put down: Voltaire et Frédéric II by Roger Peyrefitte. It sucks shit and I've tried to read it at least five times now and every time I have to stop because it makes me want to personally murder the author by like 50 pages in and I am not exaggerating in the least.

A book on my wishlist: There's a couple 1780s editions of Villette's works for sale that I like to look at every so often... I'm sure I'll eventually cave in someday but for now I'll keep trying to convince myself I don't need it.

A favourite book from childhood: I had to google a bunch of stuff to find this since I couldn't remember the title, but it's first book from the Epic Order of the Seven Series by Jenny L. Cote, about a bunch of talking animals during various Bible stories/major events (yes it is very weird). This one is about Noah's Ark, and since the animals were from all around the world, parts of their dialogue were written in a bunch of different languages with a little dictionary at the back which I thought was the coolest thing ever (it kinda is tbh).

A book you would give to a friend: Depends on the friend and what I think they'd like, but the last book I gave to a friend was Discourses on Livy since we were talking about The Prince.

A book of poetry/lyrics you own: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage! Yet another book I haven't gotten around to reading yet.

A non-fiction book you own: Changes in the Land by William Cronon. It's about the ecological changes in New England from before the Europeans arrived roughly up to 1800 and how the environment shaped and was affected by the economies of the Native Americans and the settlers, and one of the points that really stuck with me was that one of the major differences between the two groups' relationships with the environment was that the Native Americans primarily viewed resources as being valuable in terms of the function they served, while the settlers saw natural resources as being valuable firstly because they could be sold, and he talks about how it was that mindset which we still had today that made a healthy relationship between the colonists' economy and the environment unsustainable. It's also written in a way that's super easy to follow, even if you know nothing about ecology (which I do not).

Currently reading: The first volume of V's correspondance from the Garnier edition. So far I've made it up to 1731, and I realised I'm still thinking of him then as young V even though he's 37. There's so many gems in the letters though (especially to Thieriot) and it keeps leading me down a bunch of rabbit holes.

Planning on reading next: Faust!

Tagging: @ouiouixmonami, @acrossthewavesoftime, @apurpledust, @captainsamta, and @orchatab

[crunchycrystals]

every book i read in september 2023

i did in fact bring this back because i thought it would be fun and all my followers should know that before everything, i am a book nerd. i genuinely think i only feel like i'm alive when i'm reading regularly. no spoilers for any of the books i talk about because i can only have one cut per post

before i get into the books here's some general info on reading stuff this month. so i read 9 books which i'm really proud of myself for after being in a reading slump for ages. i was still reading then but i really was not enjoying myself nearly as much as i was in previous months and i'm really enjoying myself now. 5 of the books i read were physical copies of them, 1 was an ebook, and 3 were audiobooks. my average rating was 4.29/5 and read a total of 13.78 hours on audiobook and 2476 of pages shout out to storygraph for all this info i am telling you use storygraph if you want to track your reading its so great

the cruel prince. i really liked this surprisingly??? the worldbuilding was great and i loved all the political aspects of it. jude was a really interesting main character and i had a lot of fun with the story (especially the plot twist/s, no i'm not saying if there's more than one). i liveblogged a couple parts of the entire series this month so you can check my tfota tag for more in depth thoughts

the lost sisters. it was pretty interesting to see the plot of the cruel prince from the perspective of a different character but i didn't think much about my enjoyment of it since i was just reading it for more info on the series lol

captain stone's revenge. so i went on a nancy drew diaries binge once and i've been keeping up with the series ever since then just because, and i had a hold on this book for like 2 months at the library and i finished it in a day lol. it's a short book and definitely not as good as other books in the series but yk it wasn't awful still had fun reading

we are okay. this is one of my favorite books and i cried for 40 minutes straight as i finished the last like 50-80 pages. it's a really great exploration of different kinds of grief that are complicated and how it affects people. i posted while reading it "every chapter there's something that makes me take psychic damage" which was very fun but also deeply painful (in a fun way most of the time, sometimes i was in public trying not to cry). the ending is so hopeful it made me cry for a different reason why i was crying for the past 35ish minutes. it's a great book i highly recommend it it's only like 230 pages.

the wicked king. sequel to the cruel prince, i also really enjoyed this but i don't think i enjoyed it as much as the cruel prince. still well written though and i have more in depth thoughts under my tfota and/or reading commentary tags

queen of nothing. 100% my favorite from the trilogy i loved it i thought the characters and plot in this one were all super great and i loved the ending especially. i do have more detailed thoughts that i wrote down for me personally but this is a no spoilers section so i won't share it unless someone asks

cress. this is the 3rd book in the lunar chronicles series and aaaaaaa i loved this so much i had so much fun reading it i love the alternating povs and how they all end up clashing with the dramatic irony in that one scene i loved kai's povs i wanted to keep reading constantly i love these characters so much go read the lunar chronicles please

chalice of the gods. uhhh so i finished this in less than 12 hours i liveblogged it all i really enjoyed it you can see my thoughts there go check it out (cotg or reading commentary tag). a lot of cringe moments (WHY does he mention boomers so much) but i am choosing not to see it i only see percabeth and percy grover friendship content again and i enjoyed reading it

daisy jones and the six. i listened to this on audiobook and it was incredibleeeeeeee the voice actors were amazing it was so entertaining. another taylor jenkins reid book about the drama between famous people and it was very entertaining to read about. stressful at times but overall i liked it. once again there are some notes in the reading commentary tag

i also started winter this month but i am definitely finishing it in october so i don't count it lol

[chrisbannor]

Elements of Change

Chapter Thirty-Six: Preparing for a Fight

Author: Chris Bannor

The hallways of the University were more a labyrinth than anything, and Ezo once again turned down corridors that took him down unfamiliar paths. He had been walking for ten minutes before he finally came across the front entrance.

If memory served - and he doubted that, considering his strange route so far - he just needed to head two corridors over and turn left down a long hallway to get to Kammon’s quarters.

He recognized an old wall hanging and stopped to look at it. Distria was woven into a deep blue sea with a depiction of Nosah as a great winged dragon with her nest at the southern edge of Distria. Around the edges of the tapestry were the symbols of the elements of magic that allowed elementalists to aid the world: earth, air, fire, and water. There was also a symbol for the force of spirit. It wasn’t an element of magic, and Ezo had often pestered Jacob about it. His uncle had explained there were some things elemental magic didn’t explain, and the spirit of magic was as much an element as the others. Ezo still didn’t understand his uncle’s explanation, but hadn’t thought about it in years. Perhaps Kammon would have a better understanding.

When Ezo was younger, Jacob had sketched a rude copy of the tapestry and hung it on his wall. He’d told Ezo the story of Distria’s creation many times, but something always bothered him when he looked at the picture based on it.

His uncle’s drawing had been slightly different, though. Ezo couldn’t pinpoint what his uncle had changed, but it lingered at the back of his head.

As Ezo walked away from the wall, he heard raised voices and crept closer. A door to his left was slightly ajar, and though he couldn’t see the men speaking, he heard them clear enough.

He knew he shouldn’t, but his curiosity got the best of him. There were too many things about the University that he didn’t trust.

“This isn’t the time to question the decision,” one man said as Ezo snuck as close as he dared. “You know what he’s capable of. If you try to force his hand-”

“He’s forced our hands. The Harbinger is dangerous. If we can’t control him, how can we let him wander free?”

“Kill him if you must, but you’re courting trouble. What makes you think he won’t turn on you rather than return to service?”

“Kammon is many things, but even when he refused orders on the battlefield, he never turned violent against us.”

“And what happened in Pramas?”

“He could have done far more damage, and there was no loss of life. He is still loyal.”

“Do what you please. The council already voted, and I’ll abide by their decision, but mark my words. Forcing the Disavowed into service is a dark path none of us should tread lightly.”

Ezo turned away before they came out and found him. Whatever goodwill Kammon had with Zera wasn’t enough to keep him safe. They had to get out of there.

He ran for Kammon’s quarters and undid the lock quickly, aggravated that his lover hadn’t returned yet. Ezo found the few items they’d left out and grabbed their bags.

He didn’t know where Kammon was, but he closed his eyes and purposely tried to use the bond this time. He couldn’t do it, and he nearly screamed in frustration, but a shriek broke his concentration. He looked up as Ember appeared, perched on the edge of the bed.

“Ember, take me to him.” He threw both bags over his shoulder and opened the door.

In the hallway, Ember flew to the right, and Ezo ran after her. At the first intersection, he tripped into someone and nearly fell to the floor. He lost their bags and scrambled to reach them. The person he’d run into took the second one, and as Ezo grabbed it, he realized it was the man from the library.

“In a hurry, Ezo?” the War-Sworn asked.

“I didn’t tell you my name.” Ezo had been suspicious of Voth at the library, and it was no coincidence that he was in the same hallway now.

Voth smiled. “The elementalist who showed up with Kammon Harbinger? You’re already infamous in these halls.”

“Just what I needed,” Ezo mumbled as he took his bag and turned to leave.

Voth grabbed his arm and stopped him. “You don’t understand your position here, Ezo.”

Ezo felt Voth pulling magic around himself, and he pushed away. “You don’t want to do this,” Ezo said. “I don’t want to do this.”

Voth took a step closer to Ezo. “You and Kammon aren’t leaving. The Imperium has need of you, and you will do as you are asked.”

Ember screeched, and Ezo felt another pull of magic. Not from Voth, though. Somewhere in the University, Kammon prepared for a fight.

Author's Note: Alright, so I think we can all agree that both Kammon and Ezo are bound to find trouble somewhere. Will Voth be able to keep Ezo from getting to Kammon before something bad happens? Or will he be able to break free from the War-Sworn? Don't forget, if you want to catch the next chapter a little earlier, you can always join me over at my community on Ream! www.reamstories.com/chrisbannor

[weaselbug]

my problems with all halo games i have played all the way through.

this shit has been weighing on me for the past few days because i have nothing else to do with my life right now because its summer and i have no summer classes.

but the original bungie halo games aren't masterpieces of story telling or gameplay. thats right I said it.

halo 1:

first four missions are fucking great. no issues, then after that. all the levels are either 1, re used (which I dont exactly have an issue with.) or 2, repetitive as all hell.

like, attack on the control room is legit the same room copy and pasted over and over again, same with two betrayals, and the library (which makes me want to quit every single time i play halo 1)

slow and most of the guns are overshadowed by the pistol. i like the pistol, but why the hell would i pick up most other guns when most enemies and players die to the pistol?

spawn camping is way too easy.

halo 2:

all the enemies either kill you in one hit, or are too large in number or both, and dont die fast enough.

since duel wielding exists, half of all the guns require you to do it without doing some sort of damage to someone.

some people might put this as a plus, but i really dont, the sword is inconsistent and annoying to use. you have no idea if you are going to get slingshot into next week or its going to do no damage. though through my experience its velocity, which is the dumbest thing to do with a sword.

stories pretty good, unless you forget about how the UNSC knew where prophet was hanging out.

the bosses are ok, they aren't really much different to any other enemy other than the fact they can kill you really fast, or are invincible.

this game feels slow, slow waiting for your shields to recharge, the movement speed, the gondolas and the elevators. it just feels like i could be shooting more bad guys but i'm waiting...

also the crunch for this game was so bad that its used THE thing on what not to do when making a game, which is bungies fault. everyone sweeps this under the rug because "good video game!" and yeah, it is a good video game, but lives shouldn't have been reduced to "i live in an office cubical" to get good game.

bungie was never a good company before this, the only reason these old games arent filled with microtransactions and battle passes is because of the time they were made.

halo 3:

the story isn't that great. and johnson dying is kind dumb, because he had plot armor before it, but then dies from one measely laser beem.

i dont really like the fact that some of the weapons are slow projectile based, i just dont like it.

the vehicles feel, like im driving on pavement 100% of the time, i dont feel like im driving on rocks and dirt, i dont feel like my car is going to flip if i turn to sharp.

i feel like halo 3 was when the game's fun was lost because the competitiveness was over incentivized. and really, confirms my theory that the second that any ranked mode appears in a game, the game gets way less fun then it could be just because of the fact now a subsection of the fanbase is obsessed with meaningless rank.

halo reach:

the moment to moment level design is kind of forgettable. not really many main gameplay moments i remember. other than new alaxandria, thats great.

i feel like they should have had a little bit less characters so we could have more time for each one so each death could feel more impactful, but otherwise its great for what they were trying to go for.

they a little bit went in the other direction for competitiveness, with bloom and stuff. but i love the armor abilities like sprint, jet pack, bubble shield/healing zone, and invisible/raydar jammer. but i really hate armor lock, its good for anti-splattering, but i wish it didnt have such a fight ending feel to it.

halo 4:

halo 4 is 100% the worst one out of the bunch, but thats not to say its a bad game! it has a fun multiplayer. but, the campaign is filled with bullet sponges, one hit kills, and enemies with attacks with instakills (where have we heard that!!!)

multiplayer has the same issues as halo reach where the game has too many overpowered abilities and and not enough fun abilities.

the story is dumb, they just hit you with exposition, and its under developed.

but the character study is great! master chief is a sad boy and I love it! he should be sad, he got his live taken away! but really, thats all i can say that is good about halo 4, just its been done to death.

while im still playing through halo infinte, i can tell by the few hours ive been playing it, its on par with the better halo games! love the DK throwing, and the grapple hook. but the story feels lacking, but the characters feel ok!

i mostly made this because of the annoying constant anger in the halo community that has pretty much pushed me away from actually wanting to interact with some of the fans. its just tiresome, i just want to play a video game without favoritism, blind negativity/positivity, or just blind love for old bungie.

it was probably horrid to work at bungie btw. while didn't have the issues that 343 had, but they still overworked their workers, and 100% would have done those greedy stuff that 343 is doing now.

[magratpudifoot]

Finished 13 May 2024:

Such Sharp Teeth - Rachel Harrison

I wish so much that the pull quote on the back of this book, before you even get to the summary, didn't declare it "feminist horror" for a few reasons: 1) I have had quite a run of bad luck with fiction that is too eager to declare itself to be "feminist horror", which leads to 2) the less a book tells me it is feminist, the more likely I am to be interested in discussions of gender politics in the book...and maybe that's unfair because it is probably the publisher more than the author who is responsible for these things, but whoever is to blame 3) I felt when I picked it up that I had a high likelihood of disliking it because of #1. And having now read it 4) I think this book fails to satisfactorily deal with the feminist questions it very conspicuously raises, but 5) I wouldn't have been so invested in interrogating the ways it fails at Feminism™ if it hadn't declared itself a contender in that arena...which I know kind of contradicts #2 but ANYWAY

I wanted a good werewolf book. I have wanted a good werewolf story for so long. And I have Discworld, and once upon a time I had a certain wizard professor (alas), and I have Oz, even though the Veruca plotline is bullshit. But I don't have a lot of werewolf stories I care about, and I decided to put away my reservations as much as possible in the chance that this would be a good werewolf book.

I think my biggest problem here is that the characters did not feel coherent to me, and I did not care about them. If I didn't have a day job and household chores, I would love to spend all my time digging into what makes a character ring true for me and what makes a character feel hollow. But in lieu of that exploration, I can only say that I don't understand who these people are or why they do the things they do or where I should want them to be going or how their motivations move and flex against each other.

No, that bit was a lie. My biggest problem relates to #4 above and how one of the characters is just Faith Lehane without the nuance or any of the post-BS3 character development, but I am far too tired for a big, spoilery deep dive on that right now.

It's fine, probably worth borrowing from the library if you just want a spooky read. And it's probably even worth a good conversation or two about what feminist horror is, and if you can reclaim tropes without actually interrogating them for more than a couple of lines of dialogue. Definitely not the worst thing I have read this year!

And the reason my copy is warped, which I am sure you are wondering, is because I ended up in the world's least-welcoming Waffle House at 5 am this morning with no company but this book, and somehow water appeared on the top of the cover and on the bottom edge of the pages before I had even ordered, despite there being no apparent signs of water anywhere on the table or in the bag it had been in. Want to know one of my dirtiest secrets as a book collector? I actually enjoy the feel and sound of pages that have been properly dried after a bit of water damage. I'm definitely not saying I want these things to happen, but that crackle tastes good to my autism.

[mythopoeticreality]

Okay, so, starting on a re-read of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell and I came to this passage:

"As they were leaving the Library Mr Segundus Noticed something he thought odd. A chair was drawn up to the fire and by the chair stood a little table. Upon the table lay the boards and leather bindings of a very old book, a pair of scissars and a strong, cruel looking knife, such as a gardener might use for pruning. But the pages of the book were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, thought Mr Segundus, he has sent them to be bound anew. Yet the old binding still looked strong and why should Mr Norrell trouble himself to remove the pages and risk damaging them? A skilled bookbinder was the proper person to do such work."

This had always been a passage that I never quite got before. The implication seems to be that Norrell is actually destroying books, yes, but that never quite sat well with me, seeing how he treasures his library and how much care he does have for his books -- even the ones who's ideas he doesn't seem to like. Norrell will tell Segundus that he thinks Belasis is "disappointing," and "mystical where he ought to be intelligible -- and intelligible where he ought to be obscure." He'll say of the author of The Excellences of Christo-Judaic Magic, that he is "a liar, a drunkard, an adulterer and a rogue. I am glad he has been so completely forgot," but those books he still keeps around, in his library. Little good as he has to say about them, he hasn't destroyed those books, so that can't be what he's doing, that can't be his motivation.

And then I realized that that scene is foreshadowing. I'm kind of dissapointed in myself that I hadn't realized it sooner, but the purpose of that table by the fire, the scissors, the knife? they're for the extra copies of books that Norrell purchases. The copies of books that are already in Norrell's library, but that he has Childermass buy anyway, to keep out of other people's hands. Early in his career Strange complains that whenever he tries to find any books about magic, he finds it impossible because Norrell had already come through -- because that's what Norrell's been doing. He buys every book on magic he can get his hands on -- weather he has it already or not -- and he ensures that no others can get those books. It's the exact same thing he does with Strange's own book later, make them all disappear -- except for the one copy, in his own library.

And it's terrible, of course! It's sickening, the lengths he'll go through to hoard this knowledge away for himself, and only himself. At the same time though, I can't help but feel some kind of pity for him as well. I can't help but wonder how someone like him, someone who so clearly does value Books and Knowledge in the way he does, could be driven to such an act. Could decide one day, to go through all of the trouble involved in such a process, to go out and collect books to keep them out of other's hands, to seek out books in a subject that's for the most part fallen out of favor with the general populace already, and go about systematically destroying them, one at a time. To, by his own hand, tear the pages from the binding and...what? toss them into the fire?

And I think, really, it's because Norrell is afraid. He is exceptionally proud of being a self-taught Magician. The only Magician who's managed to teach himself to do practical magic in the past 300 years -- and I mean, that's no small achievement, is it? But Fearfulness had always been Norrell's identifying trait, even the Raven King called him out for it in his prophesy -- and if someone else were to come along, were to also learn magic and be able to do it, what would become of him? Would his achievements be somehow lessened? Would his knowledge somehow become less his? And what if this newcomer were somehow a better Magician than him?

Norrell is constantly compared to a miser or a banker in the book, but rather than money, what he hordes is knowledge, treating it as something that somehow he will have less of, if other people have it as well. And I don't know, there's something fascinating in looking at him from that kind of angle, just...wondering what brought him to that worldview, what drove him to the point of feeling like he needed to keep all of those books for himself and himself alone.

[zeldahime]

Now this is why I'm on reddit! XD

Transcript under the cut

Someone likes to alter our James Pattersons

My library is in the throws of it's own mystery.

On Monday a senior lady returned her books via the front desk instead of the returns slot specifically because she wished to inform us of a recurrent issue she's been having with the James Patterson novels. She did this by loudly slamming down our newish copy of "The President's daughter" (which she had filled with neon green post-its) on the counter and declaring that she was "fed-up with borrowing James Patterson books and finding them defaced". She proceeded to open to the mark pages and show us words altered with white-out or crossed out with pen and another reader's preferred terminology in their place. When describing a car window, the phrase "buzzed down" was crossed out and changed to "lowered", "curb" was changed to "kerb" and every instance of "gotten" was shortened with white-out to "got".

Unfortunately, while this particular title had been loaned out seven times, our ILS only displayed four patron records. I have found a link between a borrower code in the back of the book and the effected books in our collection. I also find the same names come up as checking out most of the books, but not all of the books damaged have the same borrower names (because the ILS doesn't show every checkout for some reason, or they could just be walking out without checking the books out on the kiosk).

I put circ notes on all of the JPs as to whether they were altered or not and to check the unaltered ones upon return so they can be followed up immediately if/when we find them similarly damaged.

Most interestingly to me, was finding a typed note (slipped inside a JP while checking for damage) from another patron admonishing the self-appointed corrector for their crimes!

The team reactions has varied from amusement to intrigue to frustration. One of the senior staff told me to throw out all of the effected books but I advised her that was about 90% of the Patterson collection and I'd put circ notes on so patrons didn't have to say "It wasn't me!". We agreed that was a better plan while we try to find the culprit. If I figure out who it may be, I'm very tempted to ask them "How many books have you gotten?" and see if they correct me!

Have you had this issue or similar? Were you able to deduce who was responsible? How did you handle it?

Minor update: 26/30 James Pattersons effected in the general collection, one in large print. Culprit also had a crack at Lee Child, Harlan Coban, David Baldacci (multiple titles), Vince Flynn, Dean Koontz, Stephen Leather and Clive Cussler. Tends to leave the lady authors alone but the user tag has popped up in several books without alterations. They've tagged all of the Bernard Cromwell's historical fiction but no white out or pen in sight! I have placed our newest JP very temptingly on display!

UPDATE: Someone likes to alter our James Pattersons

We have a culprit!

It's taken a month of tagging books, checking details and cross referencing but I got him! I found over 60 books damaged in this way, and that's not including ones that may have been discarded that we never knew were scribbled in.

He actually returned books in person and checked out more. I was able to look him up and sure enough, his charge history was turned off, but the books he returned were new and had his mark in the back of them. As I checked out his books his wallet fell open and I saw some notes with his handwriting that matched the writing in the books. Aaaaaand the all important part, his initials match the secret borrower code he leaves.

I've notified the powers that be and they are currently discussing how they wish to proceed. We'll never know how many books he vandalised corrected but some senior staff want him banned, others want him charged for the books and some think telling him to knock it off should be enough.

I'm just satisfied to have the mystery solved!

[selfignitingimagines]

Liam- Badass

A/N: This one has been in my ask box for a really long time, but I hope you guys enjoy it! I’ve been rewatching season 6, and Liam has grown on me a lot as a character!

Request:  Hi can you plz do a review where (based in season 6 episode 14 where everyone Is judging Liam and all that) and the reader is trying to be nice to him and be his friend when no one else will but Nolan has a crush on her and that is another reason he wants Liam to change so she can she the “monster” he is thx❤️❤️😘

“Find anything interesting?”

You jumped. The voice had startled you as it came from behind a library shelf. When you turned, a pair of blue eyes caught yours through an empty space between books.

“Sorry,” Nolan Holloway apologized, smiling sheepishly as he came around to your aisle. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” you told him. “I was just trying to find another copy of the bio textbook for Liam. He forgot his.”

Nolan glanced back toward the collection of tables in the middle of the school library. One was occupied by Liam, Mason and Corey, with a single empty seat waiting for you. 

“Study group?” he asked. 

“Sort of,” you told him. “It was kind of spontaneous.”

He nodded. “You know, I don’t really get why you hang out with those guys. Mason and Corey, I sort of understand, but Liam? He just seems like he’s hiding something.”

You raised your eyebrows. It wasn’t the first time someone had questioned your friendship with Liam because of his temper, but Nolan seemed to be talking about something else entirely.  “What do you mean?”

“You have to notice all the weird stuff that goes on around here, right?” 

“I think everyone does.”

“Yeah, so haven’t you noticed that they’re always at the center of it all?”

“Not really, no,” you told him. “You sure you’re not imagining things? The bio exam is coming up and I don’t think anyone is getting much sleep…”

You trailed off as you noticed he was still staring at your friends. You were about to just back up and leave when he turned to you. 

“I’m not sleep-deprived. I just pay attention. I pay attention to you too, you know.”

He had this strange, intense look in his eyes, and you were suddenly uncomfortable.

“Okay,” you agreed, struggling to keep a polite smile on your face. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to studying so…”

You trailed off and turned, quickly walking back to your table. 

“There aren’t any more books,” you told Liam.

“That’s fine. We can just share...hey, are you okay?”

Liam had seen Nolan getting a little too close to you over by the bookshelves. He knew he had a tendency to be a little overprotective, and, as Mason had also pointed out, a little too jealous. Maybe he didn’t have a right to be, but there were many times that he couldn’t help it. He had heard the way the other lacrosse players talked about you in the locker room. 

Nolan himself had said a few disgusting things when he didn’t think Liam had heard him. Though he couldn’t confront his teammate outright, he made sure to check him extra hard at practice. 

Maybe that was why he had been so suspicious as he watched Nolan breathe down your neck while you searched for an extra textbook. Maybe it also had something to do with how much Liam cared for you, and the fact that Nolan seemed to be up to something worse than getting into your pants. 

You nodded as you sat down at the table. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just...I don’t know. Do you ever get the feeling like something bad is about to happen?”

Corey and Mason shared a concerned look, but Liam tilted his head. 

“Like what? We might fail the test? Cause I don’t think I need a feeling to tell me that.”

“Shut up,” you complained, feeling the worry roll off your shoulders. “We’re going to make sure you don’t.”

You scooted your chair closer to him and opened up the textbook you had left on the table. “Let’s start with Chapter Nine.”

He leaned in to read next to you and flashed you a grateful smile. You were just about to turn the page when a couple of books slammed onto the table. You flinched at the noise, instinctively moving closer to Liam. 

Nolan was standing at the edge of the table, smiling at the four of you. “Hey guys.”

“Hey, Nolan,” Mason said politely.

“Mind if I sit?” Nolan asked. 

Liam opened his mouth to protest, but Nolan was already pulling a fifth chair up to the table.

Corey glanced over and met your eyes. He had seen you talking to Nolan in the stacks, and by the way his eyebrows were raised you knew he was wondering if you had invited him over. You shook your head.

Mason cleared his throat. “Studying for the bio test?”

“Trying,” Nolan said with a strange grin, sitting down next to you. “Trying to understand how organisms evolve and change.”

“I don’t think this is on the test,” Corey said hesitantly.

Nolan’s lips twitched, and he clicked the pen in his hands, over and over. He glanced around the table. “Do you think DNA changes?”

“If it’s damaged,” Mason told him. 

“I wonder if any of us have changed,” Nolan wondered aloud. “And if we did...would there be any way to tell?”

“Like a DNA test?”.

Nolan smiled as he turned the pen over in his hands. “I was thinking a different type of test.” 

Liam stood up suddenly. 

“You know what, Nolan? This is a private study group. Get lost.”

Nolan nodded, seeming to understand. He pushed himself up from the table, flashing you a warm smile. For a second, it seemed like he was going to leave. Then, looking right into your eyes, he stabbed his pen into Corey’s hand.

You let out a shriek, and Corey cried out as blood splashed onto the table. Now it was glistening on the wood and your textbook.

“What the hell is your problem?” Mason demanded, but Nolan wasn’t phased. 

He reached forward, jerking Corey’s hand up and holding it high for everyone in the library to see. The hole that should have been there was gone, like it had completely healed. 

“Look at him!” he snarled at you. “Look at him!”

The entire library was staring. Kids looked up from their textbooks and phones to find a sight that confused and terrified them. What they didn’t know, and what you didn’t know, was that this was only the beginning.

In seconds, Liam had shoved Nolan off of Corey, knocking him to the floor of the library. “Get the hell away from us. Now.”

Nolan glared at Liam, shoving himself up from the ground. He snatched his books from the table and glanced toward you. “See what I’m talking about?”

Then he stormed off, shoving the library doors open and disappearing into the darkened hallway. 

When you looked back, Corey, Liam, and Mason were all eyeing you carefully, as if you were an animal that might bite. You glanced at Corey’s completely healed hand, and you made a decision that would define everything that came after that night. 

“Nolan is nuts,” you said firmly. “Let’s go study at my house.”

Their shoulders seemed to slump in relief, and Liam reached out to squeeze your hand.

You met his baby blue eyes, and a look of understanding passed between the two of you. What you had seen didn’t matter. These were your friends, and nothing could scare you away from them.

-----

It only took a few days for things to escalate to the unthinkable. Suddenly everyone was afraid of your friends.

You didn’t understand it. There had only been about ten other people in the library that night. Word shouldn’t have traveled that fast, and even if it had, what was there to be afraid of?

If Corey could suddenly heal from his injuries, that should have been a miracle. Unfortunately, not everyone thought that. 

When the three of you had walked into school that Monday, all people had done was stare or shy away from you and your friends. You couldn’t hear the whispers, but Liam seemed to be able to. He looked pained as you stood in front of your lockers. 

“Just block it out,” Mason assured him.

“They know,” Liam whispered nervously.

“It’s just rumors. They don’t know anything.”

You looked between the two of them. You didn’t know anything either, but you could at least tell that Liam and Corey were different. For some people, that was enough to be upset about.

Before you could interject, someone else did.

“They know everything,” Corey told them, coming up from the hallway behind you. “Two sophomores on the lacrosse team were there last night.”

Mason shook his head, still trying to convince Liam, and maybe himself, that things were okay. “Yeah, but it was late. It was pitch-black out, and there was fog on the road.”

Corey frowned. “It was a clear night, a full moon, and a well lit intersection.”

“Look, I have to get out of here,” Liam hissed. 

“No,” Mason insisted. “If you leave, these rumors never stop. You gotta just convince them that you’re a regular kid.”

“I’m not a regular kid.”

You blinked, looking between them. “Wait, what happened last night?”

The three of them shared a glance. No one said anything. 

“Look, you can tell me. I already saw what happened in the library. I don’t care.”

Liam and Corey hesitated, but Mason spoke up. “Okay, I’ll tell you.”

“Mason,” Corey hissed. 

“Come on, she already has all the pieces. She just hasn’t put them together yet. It’s safer for her to know the whole story.”

Corey didn’t look convinced. He was eyeing you carefully with his arms crossed over his chest. Defensive. 

“You’re right,” Liam told Mason, but when you looked into his eyes, he looked scared.

“Can you come with us?” Mason asked you.

You nodded and they led you away from the main hallway. You followed them into a quiet chemistry lab, where they locked the door behind them. There, they explained everything. 

Finding out that Liam and Corey were both supernatural creatures was a lot to take in. If there was nothing else going on, you might have needed more time to process everything. However, the news that a group of werewolf hunters was targeting and killing your friends seemed to override the shock. 

They explained that wasn’t their only problem, because after Liam had shifted in front of half the town last night, everyone, including the kids at your high school, seemed to know that he wasn’t human. 

“So,” you finally said. “What do we do?”

“Good question,” Liam said. “Cause I have no idea.”

“Remember what Scott said?” Mason asked him. 

Scott was the assistant coach for the lacrosse team, but he was only a couple years older than you. He hung out with you guys a lot, and he always seemed like a sweet, caring guy. You guessed he was probably in on the secret too. 

“He said ‘Be like Clark Kent’.”

Liam looked exasperated. “Clark Kent turns into a guy with a red and blue outfit and a cape. I turn into a monster with claws and fangs.”

“Then just get through the day without shifting,” Corey told him.

“Liam,” Mason said softly. “People are saying that Brett and Lori died in a car accident. We know the truth. They didn’t just die.”

You sucked in a breath. “They were murdered?”

Liam’s face softened. “The people who are after us are dangerous, Y/n. They’ll kill us, and anyone else that gets in the way. That means you too.”

“I don’t care,” you insisted. “You guys are my best friends. I’m not just gonna run and hide, especially if I can help.”

You reached out to grab his hand and squeeze it. His lips turned up at the corners, if only for a moment. 

“Then you’re with us now.”

You all agreed that Liam would try to keep cool. The rest of you would try to listen out for anything that might suggest someone was coming after him. Mason and Corey left the chemistry lab to head to their first period classes, leaving you and Liam alone together. 

You were both supposed to head to your own classes, but you lingered for a moment. 

“So...you’re not afraid?” he asked sheepishly. 

You shook your head. “Liam, I know who you are. Having claws and fangs doesn’t change that, even if it’s a little weird.”

He smiled. “A little?”

“Okay, maybe a lot,” you admitted with a grin. “But that just means you can eat the people that piss me off on a full moon.”

Liam frowned. “Werewolves don’t eat people on full moons.”

“So what do they do?”

“Exactly what we’ve been doing every full moon for the past two years. Eating junk food and playing video games.”

You thought for a moment. “And you have super reflexes?”

He nodded. “Yeah, basically.

 “So why do you suck so bad at COD then?”

Liam rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. He was relieved you were still treating him the way you always had. Telling you about the supernatural was always something he had wanted to do. You were one of his best friends, and he had always felt wrong hiding it from you.

He had thought about admitting his secret countless times before, but something had always stopped him. What you didn’t know was that Liam had always thought of you as more than a friend. He was pretty sure you felt the same way, but he had never asked you out.

Scott had questioned him about it once on the way home from a pack movie night. They had dropped you off at home, and as he pulled away from the curb in his mom’s sedan, he was looking at Liam with a smile on his face. 

“What?” Liam had asked. 

“Why don’t you ask her out?”

Liam flushed. Scott grinned at him. “I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that since Hayden.”

“I don’t know,” Liam said. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. “She likes you too. You can’t tell?”

“I know she does. It’s just...with everything going on, I don’t want to drag her into this.”

Scott nodded. “I get it...but you can’t spend your whole life doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Sacrificing your happiness to keep people safe. Even when you do that, they’re never really safe.”

“I don’t know,” Liam mumbled, glancing out the window into the darkness. 

“I had to learn that the hard way,” Scott had told him. “But maybe you do too.”

Now, as he stood across from you, he didn’t want to leave the chemistry lab. He wanted to hide in there with you for as long as he could and tell you everything, including how he felt about you. Before he could get the chance, you spoke. 

“Come on,” you said, nodding toward the hallway. “Let’s make sure you stay alive so I can beat your ass again this weekend.”

He had missed his moment, but he smiled at you anyway. “Can I walk you to class?”

“Duh.”

You looped your arm through his and headed out into the hall, ignoring the stares and fearful looks the entire way. 

------

You met up again in biology class, which you all had together. When you sat down at the table next to Liam, he pulled you close to whisper in your ear. 

Your heart skipped when he placed his hand on your arm, but he was too agitated to notice. 

“Nolan and Gabe are going to try to force me to shift. Corey said they’re going to block all the exits.”

You frowned. “Then we have to find a way to sneak you out.”

You glanced behind you, where Corey and Mason were sharing a table. 

“We’ve got a plan for that."

Mason explained that Corey could make himself and Liam invisible. They would sneak out down the halls and hopefully find an exit that wasn’t guarded by lacrosse players. 

When the bell finally rang, the four of you headed out of class. Corey and Liam slipped behind a pillar and disappeared into thin air. You and Mason led the way as they shuffled behind you, completely unseen. 

The four of you hurried through the school, but every exit you passed was blocked by an angry-looking lacrosse player.

“What do we do?” you muttered to Mason.

“Just keep going.”

You turned down another hallway, only to run right into Nolan. He was standing in the middle of the hallway with a few other lacrosse players. Gabe was right behind him. You and Mason stopped short at the sight.

“Hey guys,” Nolan said. His tone was casual, but there was no friendliness in his eyes.

Before you could attempt to go around him or the others, he stepped in front of you. His hands were curled tightly into fists.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

“You should leave, Y/n. You shouldn’t get in the middle of all this. You’ll get hurt.”

You frowned. “Nolan, please.”

His gaze softened. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but then he simply opened his hand and blew a handful of white powder at you. The smell of flour drifted through the air as you and Mason were dusted. You felt terror grip you as you realized that Corey and Liam were covered too, making them suddenly visible.

You turned in horror, but before you could make a move, Gabe darted forward and threw Liam to the floor. Both Gabe and Nolan hauled him up, dragging him down the empty hall and into a deserted classroom. The other lacrosse players didn’t bother to grab you or Mason. Instead, they flooded into the classroom behind the others.

Some students passing by followed suit, eager to watch the fight they sensed was about to happen. 

“Wait here,” Mason told you, darting after them. 

He shoved his way into the classroom, ready to come to Liam’s rescue, but he was immediately grabbed by two lacrosse players. You frantically looked around for Corey, but he had disappeared again. You only hoped he was hiding somewhere safe, just in case they were planning on coming for him next. 

With Corey nowhere to be found, you shouldered your way into the classroom, but you were trapped behind the sea of kids trying to catch the action. 

You watched in horror as Nolan landed a punch to Liam’s face, causing blood to run from his nose. They shoved him to the ground, kicking and punching him. Every time Liam seemed to be close to snapping, he seemed to hold himself back. You were relieved, but you also weren’t sure how long he could keep that up.

“You’re fighting it!” you heard Nolan snap. 

Your blood boiled. You were sick to your stomach with both rage and terror. Liam was getting his ass handed to him. He couldn’t even fight back. 

You watched as Gabe snatched a tuft of Liam’s brown hair. He yanked him up from the classroom floor, only to slam his knee into Liam’s face. You flinched.

“What is going on here?!”

Suddenly the clicking of heels sounded from down the hallway. Mrs Finch was striding over, and the crowd of kids parted for her. Instead of looking angry, she just seemed scared as she realized what was happening. 

“Do something!” Mason pleaded, but Mrs. Finch just held up her hands, as if she were surrendering. 

“Sometimes it’s best to let them work things out on their own,” she told him, before turning back down the hall. 

Kids stared in shock, dumbfounded at her response. You took the opportunity to shove your way into the space she had left in the crowd. As you got closer, you saw that Liam was lying on his back. Blood was streaming from his nose, his mouth, and various other cuts on his face. 

Gabe was kneeling over him, punching him over and over. He raised his arm to land another blow, and that was when you moved forward. You had no idea what had gotten into you, but you couldn’t watch another second of Liam’s suffering. 

Gabe grunted in surprise as you knocked him to the ground. The two of you spilled onto the tiled floor, but he quickly recovered. He yanked your head back by your hair, causing you to cry out. 

Before you could register what was happening, pain was shooting through your skull. He had punched you so hard that it left you lying on the floor, dazed and seeing white for a few seconds. 

“Gabe-” Nolan began to say, but he was cut off. “Is this what’s gonna do it, Liam?” Gabe demanded, pulling you off the floor by your hair. “Maybe you won’t change if we beat your ass, but what about hers?”

Tears were streaming down your face, blurring your vision. You could still see Liam's eyes glowing yellow though. As much as it hurt, you weren’t willing to be the reason he shifted in front of everyone. 

“Liam,” you begged. “Don’t.”

You could taste your own blood on your lips. Judging by the look on Liam’s face, you probably looked terrible, even from the single punch. You knew they were going to do much worse.

Gabe balled his hand into a fist once more, and you closed your eyes, bracing for the next punch. 

“What the hell is going on?! Back off!”

Suddenly, Gabe was ripped off of you by the back of his shirt. His fingers uncurled from your hair, and you dropped to the ground on your hands and knees. 

“Get to the Principal's office now!” Coach Finstock was screaming. 

He had Gabe and Nolan by their shirts, and he practically tossed them out the door and into the hallway. He looked absolutely livid. You had never seen Coach so angry. He gazed out at the crowd of students around you.

“What the hell is this?” He demanded. “Get out, all of you! I can’t stand to look at your faces!”

The crowd dispersed, and Mason was let go. You scrambled over to Liam, who was still on his back. He was taking short, gasping breaths and his face was covered in his own blood, but he looked relieved. He coughed as the four of you, including Corey, who had reappeared, helped him off the ground. One of his arms was slung over your shoulder, and the other was slung over Mason’s.

Mason stared at him in awe. “I can’t believe you did that...and Y/n, I can’t believe you just tackled Gabe. That was insane.”

Liam nodded, looking between the three of you. “Clark Kent, right?” he muttered. 

“Yeah,” Mason breathed. “Clark Kent.”

Liam glanced over at you. He felt a lump in his throat when he saw the state of your face. There was a small gash on your cheek from where Gabe had punched you. A trickle of blood was making its way down to your jaw, and your lip was split open. The worst part was the bruising. The blood could be cleaned up, but the bruise that was beginning to form would be there for a while. That side of your face was also beginning to swell.

His blood was boiling. He wanted to tear Gabe and Nolan apart. In that moment, he didn’t care who saw. Then you spoke. 

“Liam,” you said softly. “I’m okay. I promise.”

You squeezed his hand. The feel of your fingers wrapped around his seemed to ground him. The tension melted from his shoulders. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

------

“God, I have no idea how I’m going to explain what happened to your parents.”

You looked over at Liam from the passenger seat of his Toyota. He had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. You raised your eyebrows.

“Why do you have to explain?” 

“Because I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to protect you...and everything that happened is my fault anyway.”

You lifted the bag of frozen peas that Coach had given you off your cheek. He had assured you it would bring down the swelling, but you were skeptical.  You pulled down the visor in front of you and glanced at your wounded face in the mirror. 

            Mason had cleaned the blood off with the lacrosse team first aid kit, but there was a visible gash where Gabe’s knuckles had connected with your cheekbone. The bruise, now a deep blue-ish purple, spread out across your cheek. Your lip was also busted and there was no way you’d be able to hide it.

“It’s not your fault. I’ll just tell my parents the truth. Someone was getting their ass kicked and I stepped in to stop them. Well, I tried anyway.”

“Okay, now you’re kind of making me sound like a little bitch.”

You shrugged, and you and Liam both burst out laughing. The movement in your face caused you to wince and Liam’s expression darkened. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep saying that.”

“I feel like I do.”

“You don’t,” you assured him. “Liam, none of this was your fault. It’s the hunters and Nolan, and that fucking psycho Gabe. Plus, I’m the one who tackled him…”

He didn’t answer right away. He was anxiously chewing on his lip, staring out the windshield. 

“Liam?”

“I think you need to leave town.”

You balked at him. “What? No way!”

“Gabe could have done a lot worse to you. Now he knows you’re involved. Staying here could get you killed. You and Mason both.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” you demanded. “Just run away?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what you should do. I can’t protect you, Y/n. I can’t protect anyone.”

“I can protect myself-”

“No you can’t!” he snapped. “Look at your face!”

You flinched back at his sharp tone. Wordlessly, you turned away, slouching down in your seat to stare out the window. Maybe he was right, but his words had touched a nerve.

Liam wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he was terrified. If he couldn’t even protect you from Gabe, how was he supposed to protect you from trained hunters?

“Y/n...I’m sorry. I’m not saying you’re not strong. I just…I can’t lose you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you looked back over at him. 

“Even if you can’t protect me, why would I leave you? If someone’s trying to kill you, I want to help. Even if it means getting hurt...even if it means dying. I can’t just leave.”

“I can’t be the reason something happens to you,” Liam protested. 

“You wouldn’t be,” you pointed out. “If these people are coming after you, that’s them. Not you.”

He shook his head and you could tell he was trying to work something out inside his head. He was about to turn down the street to Scott’s neighborhood, but he hesitated for a moment. You were both supposed to be at a pack meeting, but now he was having second thoughts about bringing you.

“Maybe I should just take you home. I promise I’ll come and get you as soon as this is over,” he swore.

“I can’t just leave you.”

“You can,” he insisted, pulling up to the nearest curb. Scott’s house was still a few blocks away. 

“If you want me to leave you, you’re gonna have to pick me up and carry me kicking and screaming out of town,” you told him stubbornly.

“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “Then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll throw you over my shoulder. I don’t care.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not serious.”

“I am!” he shouted. “You don’t realize how much danger you’re in.”

“You’re Clark Kent, right?” you demanded. “What if I’m Lois Lane then? I don’t remember her ever running away.”

He opened his mouth to protest. This wasn’t a comic book. It was real life, and you could die. But as you stared at him defiantly, he realized you already knew that. 

Asking you to leave him would have been like asking him to leave Scott and the others.

“Fine,” he said.

He put the car back into drive and pulled away from the curb. You drove in silence for a couple minutes, until he pulled into a driveway you presumed was Scott’s. There were several other cars out front. You recognized Stiles’ rickety, blue jeep right away, along with Lydia’s Martin’s Toyota and Scott’s motorcycle.

“Promise me you’ll just think about leaving?” he asked. “Just think about it.”

“Fine,” you told him.

Liam eyed you. “You’re lying.”

“So you can read minds now too?” you demanded. 

“Your heart skips when you lie. I can hear it.”

He slammed the door behind him, but came around to open yours for you nonetheless. You could tell he was pissed at you for saying you wouldn’t leave, but he would do the exact same thing and you knew it. 

As you followed Liam into the house, you saw a group of people clustered around the coffee table, examining a map. You recognized Scott, his mom, Malia, Lydia and two other men you didn’t know. One was tall with dark hair, and he was wearing a suit. There was an FBI badge hanging from his neck. The other was shorter, with piercing blue eyes. 

“...no one can leave,” the taller one was saying. “Gerard’s distributed all of his weapons throughout Beacon Hills, to anyone who wants them.”

The shorter one looked grim. “He’s arming his army.”

You turned toward Liam, wanting to ask what they were talking about. Before they could, Lydia, who had been staring vacantly out the window, yelled “Get down!”

She pulled Mason to the floor just as two arrows flew through the glass windows at the front of the house, shattering them. A bright flash spread across the room, blinding you just after you saw Malia shove Scott down. Liam tackled you to the floor, covering his body with yours.

Gunfire echoed across the room, and you felt a sharp, stinging pain in your side. You cried out, and Liam pressed himself harder on top of you. You closed your eyes, terrified of what would happen next. 

Suddenly, the gunfire stopped. You glanced up, and saw the taller man, who you now realized bore a striking resemblance to Scott, stand up. He must have been his father, you realized, as he drew his weapon from a holster on his side.

Liam pushed himself up, but when he did, he realized there was blood soaking through his t-shirt. When he felt for a wound, he realized it wasn’t his blood, but yours.

You were lying below him, and a pool of dark, red blood was staining your right side, soaking into your shirt and your jeans. 

“Liam, what happened?” you whispered. Your voice was soft and scared.

“No!” he shouted, looking around frantically for the others. 

But Mason and Melissa were both unconscious on the floor, lying in their own pools of blood, which were slowly widening on the floor. Lydia was bleeding, but awake, and she was using a hand to prop herself up using the coffee table. Scott’s dad was groaning in pain, one hand holding pressure over his bloody arm.

Everyone was hurt. Everyone needed help. 

When Liam looked back down at you, your eyes were closed. Your breathing was growing shallow, and he resisted the urge to scream. He reached down, frantically pressing both hands over your bleeding side. 

“Scott!” he cried. “What do we do?”

The alpha, riddled with bullet holes himself, struggled to his feet. 

“I don’t know.”

------

“You doing okay?”

Liam looked up at the sound of Scott’s voice. The older boy was looking down at him sympathetically, and Liam felt a twinge of annoyance. 

“Not really.”

“Mind if I sit?” Scott asked. 

“Sure,” Liam said, looking back down at the floor. 

The flimsy chair next to him groaned as Scott sat down. He had two plastic-wrapped breakfast bagels in his hands, one of which he held out to Liam. 

“No thanks.”

“Come on, you haven’t eaten since last night.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.” He set the bagels on the side table next to them. “You know the nurse said she was awake. You don’t wanna go see her?”

Liam was silent. His mouth was pressed into a grim line.

“Liam,” Scott said softly. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“I brought her to your house,” he grumbled. “I was trying to get her to leave town, but she wouldn’t. So I agreed that I wouldn’t make her.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “God, I should have just dragged her out of town myself.”

“She’ll be okay,” Scott reminded him. “The bullet didn’t hit anything important.”

“Yeah, and it’s a miracle it didn’t. I could have gotten her killed, Scott.”

Scott reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Liam, look at me.”

Finally, he did. His blue eyes met Scott’s brown ones, and he felt himself tearing up, though he hated himself for it. He had forced himself not to cry all night, afraid that once he did, he would completely break down. 

But now, as the tears slipped down his cheeks, he couldn’t stop them. “It’s my fault she got hurt, Scott. This is what I was afraid of, and it happened.”

“None of this is your fault.”

Scott leaned over and brought Liam into a tight hug. “Remember when I told you that sacrificing your happiness doesn’t always keep people safe?”

Liam nodded. 

“You couldn’t have stopped this. Whoever was shooting at us was going to do it regardless. Who’s to say they wouldn’t have gone after her when you weren’t with her?”

“I could have made her leave town though.”

“No you couldn’t have. Making her leave you would have been like making you leave us. You never would have done it.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Scott smiled and pulled away from the younger boy. “I know I’m right. I’ve been doing this for a while, remember? I know you feel like you’re responsible, but you’re not. She made her choice, and it was the exact same one you would have made.”

Liam nodded. 

“I think you’re perfect for each other, actually,” Scott continued. “You’re both stubborn as hell.”

“Yeah,” Liam said with a soft laugh. “We are.”

“Go see her. I’m sure you guys have a lot to talk about.”

Liam nodded and rose to his feet. “Thanks.”

Scott smiled in response, and Liam headed down the hall to your room. The nurse had given him the number a few hours ago, but he was afraid to visit you. He knew you wouldn’t be mad at him, but it was his own guilt he hadn’t been able to get past. Now he knew he couldn’t control what happened to you, and it wasn’t fair to punish you by staying away. 

He knocked on the wooden door, and heard your soft voice say “Come in.”

When he pushed it open, you were lying there, propped up against the pillows. You smiled when he entered, and he felt relief rush through him. Even in a hospital gown, you still looked beautiful.

He strode forward and leaned in, wrapping his arms around you. You buried your face in his shoulder, hugging him back. 

“I was worried you weren’t going to show,” you admitted. 

Liam flushed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if I should come.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you told him. “I knew you’d feel like it was. That’s why I told Scott to go talk to you.”

He balked at you. “You...you told Scott to come talk to me?”

You nodded. “He came in to check on me once my parents left to eat. When you weren’t with him, I figured you’d be beating yourself up about it.”

Scott had been right. You really were perfect for each other. 

“You’re still in this mess because of me.”

“Yeah, but I made the choice to stay. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You’re telling me you wouldn’t do the exact same thing?”

He sighed and lowered himself down into the chair next to your bed. “No, I would’ve.”

“Look, there’s something I need to tell you,” you admitted. “I could never have left you, Liam. I know you wanted me to go, but if I’m gonna die, I’d rather do it with you. I love you too much to run away.”

He reached out, placing his hand over yours. “It wasn’t like I wanted to be away from you. I just thought that you would be safer. I was afraid of...well, this.”

He gestured to you, lying in the hospital bed. 

“Oh come on,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I’m fine. Plus, I’m gonna have a kickass scar. It’ll be just like a video game.”

You reached down and pulled up your hospital gown, revealing the gauze over your side. “I’m gonna look like a total badass.”

Liam grinned. “You already are a total badass.”

You smiled up at him, and he felt his heart skip. Without hesitating any longer, he leaned in, cupping your face with his hands and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Being gentle wasn’t exactly his strong suit, but your bottom lip was still busted from when Gabe had punched you. 

“I love you,” he murmured, pulling back to look down at your face. “And whatever happens, I want you by my side.”

You nodded. “Me too.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, and you shifted to the other side of the hospital bed. You patted the space beside you. 

“Are we allowed to do that?” he asked. 

“I just got shot,” you complained. “I should be able to do whatever I want.”

Without another thought, Liam crawled up beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close so that your side was pressed against his. You snuggled into him, and for the first time in months, he felt like everything would be okay.

[remember-to-be-gentle]

This one may be long...

Subject: BNHA, Dabi aka Touya Todoroki + Enji Todorki, Fuyumi Todoroki, Natuso Todoroki, and a little Shouto if you squint

Title: House Party Bully 3 (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Non con, pregnancy, bisexual, lactation, obsession, possessive behavior, bullying, stalking, blackmail, crying

Still shaking from Enji's "inspection," Touya whisked you out of the house and pushed you into his car. You could barely process what was happening when he tore off away from the house. The overpowering smell of weed grounded you, forcing you into reality. The very same reality where you'd just been split open by your bully's father's cock because you were pregnant. You glanced over at Touya who was staring straight ahead at the road, the car going a little too fast and his his knuckles white from their grip on the steering wheel.

Just what had Enji said to force Touya into inviting you over? Granted a man like Enji must have kept his family on a tight leash, a leash tight enough to keep a record of how much weed Touya smoked and when.

The silence in the car was broken when Touya said, "Do you think he hurt the baby?" His voice was tight as his grip on the steering wheel.

Of all the things to focus on with what just happened in his house and his priority wasn't even you. You snorted and turned away from him. Of course he only cared about the unborn fetus inside you. To him and his family you were simply a liability for their reputation and a walking womb that needed to be fed. "Fuck off. I want to go home."

He grunted.

With a new wave of fear slowly coiling in your stomach, you realized Touya was in fact taking you home. He knew where you lived. He'd known where you lived all along. How many opportunities had he had to make your life hell outside of school? How many times had he driven here and parked where he could watch you as he struggled with the desire to burst your tiny bubble of peace?

He parked in front of your house and waited for you to exit the car before he made for your front door. He let himself inside with a snide, "You really gotta learn to lock the door."

Slowly, you followed, legs still shaking as you made your way inside. "How long have you known where I live?"

Touya was in your kitchen, helping himself to the Chex Mix you kept on the counter. "It wasn't hard. Just did some reverse image searching and compared them to Google Maps. Plus you didn't hide your location on SnapChat. By the way, don't accept friend requests from strangers or people who're friends with people who hate you."

Hot anger sizzled on your skin. "I didn't ask how," you said from the door way, "I asked when."

That got him stop. "Does it matter? You've always been mine." He shoved a handful of pretzels into his mouth. "You're mine to fuck with when I please." He swallowed. "Or fuck when I please."

"I don't belong to you," you snarled. How dare he. He'd done enough damage to your life: destroying your reputation at school, invading the only peace you had, raping you at his party and then knocking you up before he let his dad have a turn. Fuck him. You didn't belong to anyone and especially not him.

Touya laughed. A genuine, deep, terrible laugh. He made his way across the room, heavy shoes creating a steady beat of thunder as he towered over you. A slender finger poked into your stomach, right where Enji had pointed before, the nail sharp as it pressed into your skin. "We may not have had anything physical keeping us together before," he spat, "but now we do. With my kid growing in your belly, no one can deny you're mine. Not when he's growing. Not when he's teething on your tits. And especially when he introduces himself with my name."

You pushed him away. "Get away from me. Get out of my apartment."

Touya stared at you for a moment, then walked back into the kitchen and scribbled his number on your calendar. "Call me when you want your car back. Or when you miss me. Whichever comes first." And with that, he bumped his shoulder into you and got back into his car. That sinking feeling of fear returned as you realized your car was still at his house and you'd have to deal with his family alone.

*******************************************************

The next morning you dressed for school. It had been a long, tiring debate the night before if you should even go back. So much had happened in just a few weeks and you'd done your best to keep your head down and listen to the lectures, but now you were pregnant and without your car. You could always call Touya and have him bring it, but then you'd give in to what he wanted: you forced to rely on him, tying yourself further to his whims - marking you as his.

Instead you'd opted to summon an Uber, go to your classes and get home with no time in between to so much as look at the library. You steeled yourself and stepped outside only to see the car that almost hit you outside the Todoroki mansion sitting idly with the engine running.

Enji sat behind the wheel, cartoonishly large in comparison to the vehicle. When he saw you, he leaned over and opened the door. "Get in, I'm driving you to school."

And just how would that look with you showing up to school with your bully's father and the most feared professor on campus? Rumors would already be spreading about your absence and odd behavior. The moment someone guessed you were pregnant, and you started to show, any hope for a normal college life would be over with no hope of recovery. "No. Thanks."

You turned and pulled your phone out for the Uber, but then Enji said, "Your scholarship relies on you being a model student, doesn't it?"

You froze.

"An academic advisor isn't going to be too keen on letting you keep that money when you've been knocked up by a campus lowlife, even if his father is a respected member of the faculty." He patted the passenger seat. "And while I can't fix the fact that you're losing that scholarship, I can pay your tuition and medical bills. Delivering and raising a baby isn't cheap. So get in the car before you walk away with nothing."

He was right. Of course he was fucking right. This was Enji Todoroki, the man who has his entire family turning a blind eye to his debaucherous acts. He wasn't going to let you go even if you died, not when his grandkid was growing inside you. With as much of your dignity you could gather, you climbed into the car and let Enji drive you to campus.

"After your last class," he said, "come to my office. You have an appointment." When you didn't respond he added, "For the baby." He had said he'd be footing the medical bills. Did that mean Enji was going to be there for everything? The pap smear, birth, and recovery? You shivered. Touya knew his father was going to be overprotective and manipulative. He knew his overbearing nature would have you crawling back to him, back to an overbearing man you were at least familiar with.

When Enji parked at the school, you hopped out and started walking toward your first class. “Thanks for the ride.” You tried to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but Enji was large and fast. He caught up to you easily, keeping silent stride and never leaving your side. That remained true for the rest of the day. Between classes you caught his eye, and when he didn’t have a class to teach, he followed you or worked on his computer outside your classroom, just within eyesight.

Rumors were already beginning to start, you could feel it, people glancing at you and Enji. They probably thought you were either sleeping with him or you’d grievenced him in some way. Hopefully they’d assume the latter. You'd rather people think you'd gotten caught for cheating than you tried to sleep your way to better grades.

This behavior continued for days. A week almost passed before you realized you hadn’t seen Touya. No bullying, only stares from your classmates and teachers, which was almost worse. You knew what to expect from Touya, you could blow him off and tell him to fuck off, and if he got too into it, sometimes your classmates would tell him to fuck off, too. But now you didn’t know what they were thinking, how they were judging you. You were alone except for Enji’s heavy gaze and now really did consider that you may be missing him.

After your last class, you knew better than to fight Enji on him taking you home, your car was still at his house after all, and he was stronger and faster. You climbed into his car and stared at the window, waiting to see the neighboring apartments and familiar street signs. They never came. Instead you recognized another set of houses, the same ones you’d parked in front of the night of the party. “Wait,” you said, “this isn’t the way to my apartment.”

“No, its not.” Enji agreed. “Its not proper for the future mother of my son’s child to be living alone in a run down apartment. You’ll be living, or at least spending most of your time, with us from now on.” Before you could protest, he tapped a heavy finger on a piece of paper that sat on the dashboard. You picked it up and nearly cried. It was a copy of your lease with an approved early termination of contract. “Don’t worry about moving your things,” he said, “The boys and I will handle it.”

A tear slid down your cheek. They’d taken your life from you.

You jumped when you felt a finger run across your cheek, wiping away the tear. “If you don’t want to share a room with Touya, that’s fine. There’s plenty of rooms in the house.”

*******************************************************

As your stomach grew, so did Enji's overprotectiveness and Touya's absence. He hadn't even updated his insta since the party. You almost admitted you missed him. You could brush off Touya's rude remarks about how fat you were getting. You couldn't brush off Enji's furnace of a hand as it felt up your swelling stomach. With your insta DMs taunting you with that swollen blue send button. All it would take for help was to press it. But pressing it would mean admitting that you needed him. It was almost tempting. Almost.

Enji did make you move into the mansion, which you thought meant spending every waking moment with Touya, but he was rarely there. Even when he was, he would only play Mario-kart with his friends or ignore you completely. Despite his possessive behavior, he was sticking to his guns about making you call him first.

Your room was thankfully away from Touya's, sandwiched between his younger siblings, Fuyumi and Natsuo. They were all incredibly kind, volunteering to bring you food and anything else you need. They even helped you start to put your things away as it was becoming harder to move with your growing stomach. Although you couldn't help noticing they seemed to eye you up when your back was turned.

And then Rei and Enji announced they'd be going out of town for the weekend. You thought this would be a relief, not having to deal with Enji's overprotectiveness for three days and Touya still being mostly MIA, but you quickly understood that no one in this house could be trusted.

"Is there anything we can get you?" Fuyumi asked, seated at your desk with Natsuo leaning beside her.

At this point, you were about four months into your pregnancy. Your stomach wasn't enormous, but it was getting hard to move around. Fuyumi volunteered to buy you maternity clothing and Natsuo often brought you food, which was usually fast food, but still appreciated. You'd grown comfortable with asking these two for things you needed. "I'm okay," you said, "I just need to get some pads. Hopefully I can get them from the store tomorrow." Your car was still here, after all, and despite being in the mansion, you hadn't managed to find your keys. Touya or Enji had to have them.

Natsuo twitched. "Pads?" Having not know him for that long, you weren't sure what that meant quite yet. You'd seen it only s few times when your pregnancy was mentioned.

Regardless, you blushed. Speaking about the changes your body was going through with your future, unwanted, in-laws wasn't a comfortable topic of conversation. "I don't have a proper bra to absorb all the milk," you confessed.

Fuyumi seemed like she was trying not to look at you. "You're lactating?" Or rather, you realized, she was trying not to look at your chest.

Hesitantly you answered, "Yeah."

Silence in the room settled heavy as a boulder. Natsuo's adam's apple bobbed. "H-how much?" His voice was tight.

You did not like this line of questioning. "Does it matter?"

Fuyumi glanced at Natsuo who nodded. Together, they moved at once, flanking your sides with the efficacy of lions. "Don't scream," Fuyumi said and then she yanked your shirt up. Just as you'd said, the front of your bra was dark with milk.

Natsuo was fast to pull a tit free, groaning at the sight of your puffy and swollen areolas. He ran the cold pad of his thumb over your nipple, making you squirm. "Fuck," he groaned, "I've waited too long for this."

Fuyumi did the same, her fingers just as cold. "You think you have? I'm older than you, remember?"

"What are you doing?!" You demanded. You tried to get away but they easily pinned you against your new bed, your back to the mattress and tits up for their viewing pleasure. The swollen part of your stomach didn't help either.

Slowly, Fuyumi explained, "Mom always let us have some of her milk when she was lactating but had to stop awhile ago because of some medication." She pinched you nipple and watched you bite down the moan that threatened to escape. Your breasts felt swollen all the time now that you were making milk. It both hurt and felt far too good to massage them yourself, milk often squirting out if you pressed too hard. With both of them hanging over you like, you knew the milk would flow easily and that would only encourage them more.

Natsuo picked up where his sister left off, "So we've been waiting for someone to give us a new supply. And you're it." He gave a tentative lick to your nipple, watching the skin stretch and swell until it stood erect and ready to suck. "I'll have to thank Touya for bringing you to us."

With that, both Fuyumi and Natsuo latched onto your nipples. Their hot mouths were voracious, starved. Fuyumi lapped and suckled while Natsuo used his teeth and pulled.

Your body reacted naturally as if they were the child still growing inside you. You could feel your teats leaking, all too happy to give up what they'd produced for hungry mouths. Gasps left your throat between the begging for them to stop and pleasure. Your core was becoming hot, liquid, as if it were melting.

You tried to push them off, but the siblings held firm, suckling back and forth until you were dizzy.

Natsuo suddenly pulled off, gasping for air as clear fluid dripped down his chin. "Fuck, I can't take this anymore." He got off the bed and spread your legs, roughly shoving your skirt up and pulling your panties aside to feel the slick that had gathered. He whistled, low and impressed. “Dad said you’d be easy, but I didn’t think you’d get so wet from us just sucking on your tits.”

“Don’t,” you begged, trying to push him and Fuyumi off you, but Natsuo was just like his big brother: stronger than you and bigger than you. He pulled his cock free and slid it inside you. He wasn’t as big as Touya or his father, but he was long and pushed in and in and in until you thought your swollen womb had been pushed into your lungs. “Shit,” he groaned, “you’re fucking tight. How did either of them even fit in here?” 

Fuyumi didn’t speculate, continuing to suckle on your breast, occasionally using her hand to stimulate the milk glands. 

Natsuo didn’t wait for you to adjust, sliding himself in and out at a steady pace that had you whimpering. In this sad, pathetic moment, you could admit it. You could admit that you missed Touya and wished he was here to protect you from his feral siblings as they had their way with you. Your phone was just on the nightstand, too, if you could roll over, you’d be able to call him. You needed him. The thought tasted like bile and booze.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but Natuso didn’t seem to notice or care, groaning at the sloppy sounds your cunt made as he fucked you. Fuyumi did notice and pulled off your teat. “Hey,” she said, “you’re okay.” She kissed your cheek, but kept one hand on your breast. “There’s no need to cry, we’re just trying to get to know you before the baby comes.” A kiss along your jaw, another one lower, where she sucked and bit at the skin. All you could think was Touya wouldn’t be happy if that bruised. 

And then the door opened. 

Hope exploded in your gut like an unwanted orgasm, every muscle in your body tensing, ready to explode off the bed and into your savior’s arms. For the first time in your life you hoped it was Touya coming, hoped it would be the shaggy mess of dyed-black hair and those cruel cerulean eyes that would demand to know what’s happening before he pulled you away to his room. You could handle his mocking but not his siblings. You wanted it to be Touya so much it hurt. 

And it wasn’t. 

The youngest Todoroki poked his head in, heterochromic eyes blinking slowly at the sight in front of him. His pale skin turned red, anger coloring his features as his eyebrows narrowed. For a moment you thought he’d defend you, but you knew better, you knew these siblings were fucked up and selfish. With Natuso buried deep inside you and Fuyumi still trying to get milk from your breast, you weren’t surprised at all when Shouto said, “You guys got started without me?”

Fuyumi and Natsuo scrambled to come up with an excuse, both their movements stopping as their attention shifted to focus on their little brother. The shot you needed. You ignored Natuso’s cock inside you and made for your phone, swiping it off the nightstand and quickly hitting the contact for A MAN WHO SHOULD NOT BE CALLED. 

“Shit.” Both Fuyumi and Natuso swore. 

They both tried to wrestle your phone away, but it was too late. Less than two rings and Touya’s voice flooded the room, “What’s going on?”

You were so relieved you almost started sobbing. “Help me!” 

Fuyumi managed to grab your phone. Her face broke into an uneasy smile, fear making her pale into a sickly green “Everything’s fine, Touya-nii! We’re just playing a game and she’s a sore loser, right Natsu?”

“Right,” Natuso’s voice was shaking, “right, Fuyu.” 

Heavy silence filled the room. They’d been exposed for their actual intentions. “I’m on my way. And I better not see any of you near her again.” Touya’s voice was a growl, deep, barely holding back his rage. 

Shouto blinked, his color returning to normal. “You guys drank all the milk, didn’t you?” 

Both Natsuo and Fuyumi looked horrified. Their little brother's own selfishness played against them.

Fuyumi and Natsuo scrambled out of the room, dragging Shouto with them.

You laid on the bed, a soreness washing over your body. Your violated cunt, your swollen breasts, your skin where Fuyumi kissed, and goosebumps from the cold. You didn’t have the energy to fix your clothes or even look at Touya when he entered the room. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his heat and his anger. He didn’t say anything, though. He just fixed your clothes and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to your feet before he brought you to his room. 

The familiar smells of body odor, weed, and Touya enveloped you and you understood that no matter how much you didn’t want this, this was your safe space now.  

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft Edition, Har-Akir Arc FINAL

“They. Let’s not misgender the horrible person I plan on burning alive.”

“At least tell them you’re the only one there because you didn’t trust us not to immediately open fire. Which, I will point out, is true.”

“Standard double boss raid tactics.”

"Our real challenge will be to locate their ring though. Didn’t they say they placed it in a hidden location?” “Ask your nerd god?”

"I've got a second broom in the hole, if anyone needs it.”

"Alright... Jonni, Marshall, and Gorbash. Come here, and I'll ask for Ioun to watch over you.” “I will try not to flash the Girls during that time. Try.”

It’s about noon, there is not a cloud in the sky, the sun is beating down. Everyone in the caravan has gone into the city to avoid the fight. Azathoth: "Wee-o-wee-woo...wa wa wa.....wee-o-wee-woo....wa WA…."

However, a barge approaches on the river bank, upon it on a throne sits a mummy in ornate gold. A crier on the skiff opens a scroll "This most supreme authority Lord Ankhtepot has been invited by the Necromancer Nima Galzona to observe their latest creation, the Sunbleacher undead. Feel free to ignore us and continue with the fight.”

Nyarlathotep: "Nima is an egg-laying mammal?”

“Oloch’s been eating his Wheeties. Somehow.”

“Also, Nima? I fucked your boots.”

Oloch: ”If the pyromancer agrees to abandon their efreeti lover to her current fate, and leave the Domains of Dread without her, then I will agree.” Jonni: “Sure.” Nima blinks. "Wow really?” Jonni: “Yup. Pinkie swear.” Marshal: "Jonni, there can be no falsehood. The Master and I WILL hold you to this vow.” Jonni: “Oh, we’ll then, fuck that.” Hex and Eldritch Blast on Nima.

You slice "Nima": to pieces, their head lands at your feet. Then its eyes open and smiles. "Get ready for a surprise!” Gorbash: “And cue the magical bullshit.”

Gorbash: “I didn't realize this was a full on asshole convention.” Jonni: “So, was that Oloch or did they fuse into a whole new asshole?” Gorbash: “I think Nima shoved an asshole into another asshole to make a Bigger asshole. And I feel dirty for having spoken those words.” Nyarlathotep: "Tha's a BIG asshole.” Marshal: "So which dispenses the ranch dressing?” "Stop saying asshole." One of the Nima says. Gorbash: “I will if you all stop being Assholes!”

“I got a shitty plan to find real Nima unless someone has a good plan?”

Three Stooges Nimas.

I should note something, after Oloch removed his cloak, the air around him feels different, dryer and hotter. The sunlight seems harsher. OOC: Does that mean fire type moves do more damage?

"Eddie, Jonni can't die. That's a rule!”

Jonni: “Guys, stupid hope to find real Nima or deal with exploding orc?” Poom: "Always exploding first!”

Anhktepot doesn't want this to play by Don King rules.

"Oh no, Oloch is using Solar Flare!”

"BURNING DEATH!” “I said the same thing to Vesh on our Anniversary.”

OSP: “I didn’t ask if my friend was out of range, I said I cast Fireball.”

“Instant gratification is bullshit. The best revenge is knowing your enemy is miserable.”

“I’m talking about an oath sworn to a major league fucking god! Do you think I want the consequences of that?” "Considering how stupid you are, yeah.”

OOC: Anybody else wanna get Yul Brynnar in play on our side?

Poom teleports to a safe distance. Like Goth Mexico.

Nima: ”Also FYI, me and Hazlik can see and hear you through the magic items we gave you.” Jonni: “I mean, I assumed they could. It’s why I kept using the rod for sexy times.” Nima: "And people think I'm a freak.”

"Darn, wish we had a cantrip to conjure up some popcorn for this.” "Admire later: we're still in the splash zone", Marshal says as he swerves to avoid a meteor.

"I've never trusted cashews.”

"I mean we're both petty, power-mad slut-mages who solve all our problem with dark magic.”

“By the way, books just a copy of the Kama Sutra I shoved in an overdue library book. Left the real one in hell.” “Huh. Wow those are some pictures.” “Yeah, this one is from the dimension where Picasso got freaky.”

Gorbash follows: Poom always knows the best escape routes.

“So… let your mom know, I just finished one blood feud, I’ve got room in my schedule for a new one.”

Irost comes running, wearing a mask and his viol from the city. "Can't talk. Priests are angry. Gotta go.”

Jonni: “Well. Looks like we’re on the road again. Next stop, killing some bitch.” Poom: "New stop, same as the old stop.”

OOC: BRB, if I seem quiet for a few minutes here and there it’s because my body has decided to stop retaining water.

OOC: I just had unexpected dogs in my apartment. OOC2: ...That is either a problem or the opposite of a problem.

OOC: I mean, Hades won't argue being an asshole.

“I DONT EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND YOUR FACIAL HAIR IS AMAZING!”

OOC: Now he knows all Nima has to do is say "Parmesian" and he will be their personal fight doll.

OOC: Considering our next stop, this:

OOC: I mean, not like the hell-child's gonna be any LESS deadly... Irost: “I'll get the elf outfits ready.”

OOC: Yeah, that necrosplosion almost wiped us.

OOC: ….Those Nimas were Saibamen.

OOC: Or we can mail ourselves somewhere, and rest while we are in transit.

OOC: Itty. Bitty. Living space. OOC2: Comes with the phenomenal cosmic power.

OOC: Speaking of next time, you guys are going to the cornfield.

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger - Gwynriel

Spoilers for ACOSF, do not read this unless you have finished ACOSF AND the Azriel pov chapter * * * * * Training without Nesta and Cassian should have been fine, if it weren't for Gwyn, if it weren't for how he could never approach her. Some nights he needs an escape, but never expected her to hear his song in the shadows, for her to sing to the shadows herself.

*****

Nesta and Cassian were still off cauldron-knows where, doing cauldron-knows what, the scent of their fresh mating bond still lingering in the House, so Azriel was left to train the priestesses alone. Not that training them was bad, he was thrilled that they were learning to fight, but at least when Nesta and Cassian were there, he could focus on teasing them, rather than his own growing desire. He stiffened at the sound of Gwyn's voice behind him,

"Azriel?" And spun quickly to face her, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,"

"You didn't, I was just thinking,"

"About?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it. Did you need my help?" He hated the slight dismissiveness of his tone, but he couldn't actually tell her what he had been thinking of, could he? No, he couldn't. She might never want a male like that ever, he couldn't make her think she had to. He wouldn't, she would have to come to him, or he would be grateful for her friendship. 

"Yeah, you said we could move on to archery today after warm ups, Cassian hasn't actually started on that at all, we need you to go over everything."

"Oh. Okay, I assumed you'd already been over the basics." She shook her head, and he sighed, gesturing for her to follow, "Is it just you, or are there others?"

"Emerie as well, she's coming." The few moments it took for Emerie to cross the training ring almost left Azriel shuffling on his feet, but when she arrived he was finally able to start the lesson.

Stop being so tense, she thinks something's wrong with you. A shadow whispered in his ear, he wasn't being too tense, was he? Perhaps he was. Cauldron, did she think he didn't like her? Now you're overthinking it. Be normal. He almost snorted, that was easier said than done, but he forced his thoughts away from Gwyn, and towards the bows in front of him.

"The first thing we have to do is to string them, you can't do anything with an unstrung bow, except perhaps hit someone over the head with it, but that's not very effective." Gwyn snickered, and Emerie bit her lip to keep from laughing, "Grab a bow each, not that one, you'll never be able to draw it." He handed Gwyn a smaller bow, the limbs recurved to allow a lighter draw weight, and Emerie grabbed its twin from the rack. "Those have a draw weight of about thirty pounds, but we'll build that up, until you can draw Illyrian war bows."

"What's the draw weight of those?" Gwyn asked, her voice soothing the worry he was still feeling, 

"Anything from eighty to one hundred and twenty pounds. Mine is a hundred." Her jaw dropped open,

"You mean, they can be four times as strong as these? These look pretty heavy as they are."

"They will be to start off with, you'll be using a different set of muscles than you're used to, so we'll be able to build it up." He drew their attention to the notches at the ends of the bows' limbs, when the string could sit. "Get one end of the string on the limbs, and set that limb against your ankle, and step through with the other foot." He adjusted their position, grateful that Emerie had figured it out, so that he didn't have to get too close to Gwyn as she corrected herself. "Now, use your foot as leverage to pull the string up to set it in place." He demonstrated with a third bow, smoothly setting the string in place, and both females managed to copy him, grinning when they were each successful. 

"I win." Gwyn chuckled, and Emerie narrowed her eyes, managing to string her own bow moments after Gwyn,

"We'll see about that." She retorted, and Azriel smiled, and as they turned back to face him the sun burst into the ring, setting Gwyn's hair burning bright in the morning glow. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that he forgot he was supposed to be teaching. He slowly walked them through each step of shooting, from their stance to the arm guards that they needed to wear to avoid the string slapping against their forearms. Once they had gotten the hang of it, Azriel set them off to practice, keeping an eye on them as he made the rounds to check on the other priestesses.

Once he got back round to them, both females were starting to make progress, although neither had actually hit the target yet. Gwyn barely turned her head, but he knew that she'd noticed him, and took another shot,

"What am I doing wrong?" She asked, still gazing at the arrow embedded in the wall a good three feet from the target. 

"You need to use your whole back to draw, not just your arm. Imagine squeezing your shoulderblades together when you draw." She nodded, trying again, and the draw was much smoother, but still the arrow thudded into the wall behind the target, and she turned to him, disappointment shining in her eyes, "Try it again. Make sure you don't release full draw the moment before you let go of the string. Draw, sight and loose all in one movement." She nocked another arrow, taking a deep breath, and he came next to her, "Here," he lifted her elbow slightly, "Now release," she did, and the arrow flew straight and true, just hitting the edge of the target. She turned and grinned at him, 

"Show me that again." So he did, no matter how much his blood roared at touching her, he helped her adjust her aim, until the arrow thudded straight into the center of the target. "I did it! Did you see?"

"I saw," he grinned, "Well done, now prove it wasn't a fluke," she flipped him off but returned to the range, and while he was helping Emerie achieve the same result his shadows, his very blood sang at every shout of delight when she hit the target. Emerie was having difficulty adjusting her wings to allow her to reach full draw at all, and he had to ask her to show him exactly how much movement she had.

He frowned as Emerie moved her wings, there was no way she'd be able to get to full draw with her right wing unable to move properly. 

"Perhaps we can get a brace made, or if you're comfortable to let Thesan see if he can at least recover a greater range of movement?"

"I don't know, will it hurt?"

"Certainly not initially, but perhaps later on, if you wanted to regain flight, maybe, but regaining a bit more movement should be painless." She hummed,

"I'll think about it,"

"Let one of us know if you want to try, we can always ask Madja to try first, but for now, perhaps we can get a brace made to hold your wings up so that you can shoot properly." Emerie nodded, "And I'll work out some exercises for you to perhaps be able to build up the muscles there to do it yourself, do you mind if I check to see exactly what's damaged?"

"Yeah, that's okay." She still shuddered when he touched the muscles at the base of her wings, finding few of them intact, fewer that were still capable of bearing any sort of load. 

"Okay, I can try to work something out for you," Gwyn had managed to unstring her bow by herself, and wrapped an arm around Emerie's waist, 

"We'll figure it out," she muttered, "In the meantime you can just kick everybody's ass at close combat." Azriel smiled as the females walked away, laughing softly,

"Make sure you cool down properly," he reminded them softly as he started to tidy up the equipment that they had all used, and his gaze fell on Gwyn, talking softly to Emerie and another female, sweaty and exhausted, but still she practically shined in the early sunlight. When she tipped back her head and laughed, his shadows skittered around him, dancing with that sound as it flowed through the air. They loved her, as they told him repeatedly, annoyingly often, and demanded that he make sure to see her again that day. He told them to mind their own business, but still couldn't tear his eyes away as she waved and headed back to the library,

"See you tomorrow, Az!"

"See you later!" He waved back at her, grinning broadly until wingbeats alerted him to Rhys' arrival to take Emerie home. He quickly shook himself off, and finished tidying up, waving goodbye to the other priestesses as they left. 

*****

No one heard as Azriel slipped out of his bedroom window that evening, the cool wind nipping at his skin as he caught an updraft and spiraled up to the roof. He lay back on the roof, watching the stars twinkling above his head, letting the wind ruffle through his hair, and closed his eyes. On nights like this, he sometimes couldn't face being inside, he needed to feel the wind on his face, his wings. He opened his eyes again, his gaze falling on a familiar star, his mother's voice sounding in his ears, almost as if she was there,

Always remember that star, Azriel. Every time you look up at it, so am I, that's our star, forever. 

He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but a familiar song burst from him, his mother's song, the only lullaby he had ever been sung, the words falling effortlessly from his lips as he gazed at their star. He hadn't seen her in so long, he hadn't been able to, but he would find time, he would get away from his work soon. He could practically see her sitting beside him, hear her voice in place of his. The wind became her fingers tidying his hair, became her voice singing through the darkness, his shadows on his shoulders became her hands, holding him close, just being there. 

*****

Gwyn didn't know what had driven her from her bed, but the moment she stepped outside, the song hit her. She didn't recognize the words, they were in a language she didn't know, but she knew the hurt, the longing in them, in that lullaby. That voice, she could have sworn that she'd heard it before, but she couldn't have, she didn't recognize it, still, the huskiness seemed familiar, the deep tones flowing over and through one another effortlessly. Whoever he was, he had a beautiful voice, and she found herself drawn towards it, her blood singing with him. 

 Arrorró mi niño

Arrorró mi sol

Duérmase pedazo

De mi corazón

Cierre los ojitos

Ya se va a dormir

Que el pícaro sueño

No quiere venir.

 She followed the song all the way to the House of Wind, freezing when she saw the shadowed figure on the roof, head raised to the sky, great, dark wings spread behind him, voice raised in song. He did sing, she was frozen in awe at his voice, at the way it sang to her, but she still felt like she was intruding. Gwyn dared to snatch one final glance at Azriel before she turned to leave, and his head turned, surely he couldn't see her from all the way up there? But something made her stay, made her sit on a nearby bench and listen as he repeated the song again and again, until she knew the lyrics herself. The raw emotion in his voice almost brought her to tears, and she almost turned to leave again, but something made her stop, and sing with him.

*****

His shadows leapt and danced as a second voice sounded through the air, light and feminine, brighter and happier than his, a comfort to the pain of his own song. As Gwyn's voice continued to rise, his shadows left his shoulders to dance around him, she sang to them, for them,

It's her.

She's here.

Go to her.

We love her. 

He almost chuckled at the overload of demands, but he sang with her, their voices twining together through the cold night air, the familiar melody giving him the courage to speak to her, to go down there. He practically threw himself off the roof, free-falling before opening his wings and gliding to the ground. When he landed, the street was empty. She hadn't wanted to disturb him. Gwyn wasn't there. Only her lingering scent proved that she had been there at all.

Part 2

[odos-bucket]

So I was reading @andillwriteyouatragedy​‘s incredible Brand New Day where Bruce and Clark adopt a young Dick Grayson together, and was thinking about a sort of companion story where they take in Jason together too. Using that story as a rough reference, I’m gonna say they’ve been together for a decade or so here. Dick is somewhere in his late teens. I’m figuring Clark probably offers to tag along on Bruce’s annual trip to crime alley every year. Bruce always politely declines. It’s basically become a part of the day’s bleak tradition. Clark is surprised when for once his offer is accepted. Later on, if pressed, neither of them would be able to pinpoint what was different about that night that made Bruce decide that it might be okay to have some company for once. Clark probably feels weird about it at first. Even though he’d asked Bruce if he wanted company, and Bruce had said yes, which he never would have unless he’d absolutely meant it (and Clark knows that). It still feels a little like he’s intruding on something private, even sacred. Then of course they get there, and there’s nothing going on. Superman’s senses don’t pick up the slightest hint of disruption anywhere in the neighborhood. Maybe they start patrolling around it anyways, maybe they just wander for a couple of blocks. Sooner or later they overhear someone talking about how it’s this night every year that Batman comes calling. Local criminals have picked up on the fact that if they just keep their heads down for this one specific night they can pretty much avoid him. Bruce is all grumbly about it, and immediately goes into ~strategy mode~ like, “Okay, I’ll have to start coming here on different days, on an irregular schedule.” He immediately opens up a dozen different tabs in his brain with calendars, and crime statistics, and is thinking a mile a minute, because that’s what he does. He’s kind of agitated about needing to change something that’s been a ritual for so long (because Batman has OCD, fight me) and he’s annoyed at himself for being bothered by it. Absolutely none of this sudden inner turmoil is detectable in his expression or body language. But Clark knows Bruce, knows how he reacts to things, and that there’s no way he’s not annoyed right now. He says, “Sounds like tonight will be a bust if we stay here,” then when Bruce grunts in response, continues, “We could go back to the manor. Watch a movie.” Then after a pause. “Or we could patrol somewhere else.” A moment passes. When Bruce says, “Okay,” Clark isn’t sure which suggestion he’s agreeing to, but they start back towards the car. It’s not a long walk, but they aren’t moving particularly quickly. By the time they get back to the batmobile it only has one wheel.

Clark frowns as he walks closer, before being stopped in his tracks by a surprising sound. It’s a sound that he recognizes immediately, that he hears all too infrequently. Bruce is laughing. Clark’s mouth quirks into a half smile. He takes a few steps forward, thinking about just picking the whole thing up and flying it back home. Then from a few paces ahead he hears Bruce’s low, gravelly Batman voice say, “Hi there.” Once he’s tuned in to the idea of another presence nearby, it becomes obvious to his advanced senses that someone is lurking behind the car. “Shit,” a small voice says. Bruce takes a few steps closer. “Planning on finishing the job?” He gestures to their remaining wheel. Clark shifts until he can get the kid partially in his sight without the aid of x-ray vision. He’s small, and looks to be somewhere in his pre-teens. “I got no idea what you’re talking about,” he says quickly. “Oh really?” Bruce asks. The boy glares at him. “Nice tire iron,” Bruce continues. “Comes in handy.” “I bet it does.” No sooner than the words are out of Bruce’s mouth, the tool is colliding with his shin. The boy shoots out from behind the car, and down a nearby street. Clark starts toward Bruce, who quickly gestures for him to go after the kid instead. He catches up with him in less than a second. When his hand falls onto the kid’s shoulder he freezes, muscles tightening throughout his body, and heart rate speeding up rapidly. The fear response is so sudden and extreme that Clark finds himself pulling away as if he’s been burned. The anxiety around being feared is something he’s mostly left in his past, but there’s a deep rooted insecurity within him that it still prods at. The kid stumbles when he starts to run again, and by then Bruce has caught up. They hang back, but trail after the boy at a distance, until they reach a condemned building a few blocks away. “Should we go in?” Clark asks. “Probably where my tires are,” Bruce says, before climbing through an uncovered doorway. It isn’t hard to find him again. There aren’t too many heartbeats in the area to distinguish between. When Bruce opens the door to the dilapidated room, the boy’s pulse rate jumps through the roof. Nothing changes externally about him though, and Clark wonders whether or not Bruce can tell that he’s afraid of them. There’s the slightest vibration to his words when he speaks. “Okay, take your stupid tires already. I’m sorry, all right? Just leave me alone!” Bruce isn’t looking at his tires. He’s looking around the room, no doubt noticing the same things that Clark has, mold, water damage, a broken window. The place is freezing. Then in the corner there’s a cardboard box with some pasta and canned goods in it, a small stack of books, and a mattress on the floor. “Do you… live here?” Bruce asks. “Yeah. What of it?” Bruce takes a few more steps into the room. “Where are your parents, son?” Clark asks. “Mom’s dead. I dunno where Dad is; don’t really care, if I’m being honest. Now take your stuff and go already!” He’s holding the iron up again, wielding it in a manner that’s clearly meant to be threatening. Bruce plucks it out of his hands with relative ease, inspects it, then turns it around and hands it back. “Move your thumb up like this, and you’ll have a sturdier grip. And don’t stand with your legs so far apart, it’ll put you off balance.” He sighs. “What’s your name?” “… Jason.” He grabs the tire iron back, shuffling to adjust his grip and footing, keeping his stance defensive. Bruce looks around the place again. “You can’t stay here, Jason.” “Oh yeah? Says who? I can take care of myself! Been doing it for long enough.” Bruce glances up at Clark, who can see the wheels turning in his head, before looking back at Jason. “I’d really like the wheels of my car back,” he says carefully, then hurries to continue before Jason can interject. “Can I make you a deal? We’ll buy you dinner if you reattach the batmobile’s tires?”

There’s a fast food place a couple of blocks away that’s open 24 hours. Jason agrees to accompany them, but walks a few yards behind. The employees at the place aren’t at all phased by the appearance of the two vigilantes. Bruce inspects a suspicious stain on one of the walls, while Jason and Clark look at the menu posted above the counter. They order- Bruce gets two of what Jason asks for- then go outside to eat. Bruce is lost in thought as they exit the restaurant, wondering what it would take to bring free food trucks to the area. Jason’s halfway done with his meal by the time they sit down on the sidewalk. “Do you go to school around here?” Bruce asks, wanting to put together a fuller picture of the boy’s situation. Jason gets a distant look in his eyes in response to the question. He finishes chewing slowly, swallows, then shakes his head, clearing his throat before replying. “No. Not for a long time now.” He shrugs. “I got all I needed to out of it.” “You had some pretty advanced reading material back at your place for someone who didn’t finish middle school.” Bruce recalled seeing The Odyssey amongst his few possessions, as well as a couple of Shakespeare plays. Jason shrugs again. “Reading’s not that hard.” “Some people find it very difficult,” Clark says. “Some people are stupid.” Bruce cuts in before Clark can start on the gentle reprimand he can see him preparing. “Ever think that maybe you’re just smart?” Jason gives him a curious look, like that really wasn’t a possibility that he had considered before, then takes another bite, and stares off thoughtfully. “So, Homer,” Bruce prompts. Jason nods. “It’s a fun story. Odi-seuss is a dick though.” Bruce resists both the compulsion to correct his pronunciation of ‘Odysseus’, and Alfred’s voice in the back of his head urging him to tell the kid not to swear. “What makes you say that?” He asks instead. Jason looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe all the pillaging, and murdering he does throughout the entire book.” “Poem,” Bruce corrects. “What?” “The Odyssey is a poem.” “Wait, really?” Bruce hums an affirmative. “Huh… cool. But the point still stands.” “I’m inclined to agree with you. Have you ever read The Scarlet Pimpernel?” Jason shakes his head. “It’s been a personal favorite for a long time,” says Bruce. Clark shoots him an amused grin. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone throwing out a copy,” Jason says. Bruce frowns. “You have a library around here.” The remark earns him an unamused snort. “It’s a Gotham library; people don’t go there to read books, they go there to buy, sell and/or ingest drugs, and they tend not to be too happy with anybody who’s lingering around while they’re doing it.” Bruce feels a pang, not for the first time that night. “Jason,” he starts, before realizing he isn’t sure what to say. Jason keeps angled to watch him expectantly as he rises to deposit his napkins and bag in a nearby trashcan. “We’d like to help you,” Clark says. “Yeah,” Jason scoffs. “Right. Just how do you plan on doing that? Because I’ve heard that before. I’ve done the whole foster care thing already, and I’m not about to go through it again.” “No,” Bruce is quick to agree. “But there are residential schools in the city. We could help you to get enrolled in one.” Jason seems taken aback by the offer. “…Why?” He asks slowly. “Well for one, because kids should be in school. You’d be provided with room and board for the duration of your time there, which would leave you with less to worry about.” He reaches out to pass Jason the second takeout bag. He’s still lingering at a distance from them. “At least think about it?” “No. I mean, like, why?” Bruce’s eyebrow raises, tugging at the material of his cowl. “What’s in this for you?” Jason continues. “Why do you even care?” “It’s our job,” Clark says. “You’re job is to beat up bad guys.” Clark smiles when Jason mimes punching someone, before saying, “Our job is to help people.” Jason purses his lips. “Don’t boarding schools cost money?” “Most of them offer scholarships,” Bruce says. “I have a few friends who are deans. I could make the necessary introductions to ensure you a place at one of their institutions.“ Jason’s arms are crossed high over his chest, and his expression is set like he’s deep in thought. “I don’t want to end up stuck somewhere where someone else is the boss of me.” “How about you at least come with us to check a couple of these places out,” Bruce suggests. “Just see how you feel about them. No commitment.” Jason’s nose scrunches up. “Where exactly are these places?” He asks. “It varies,” Bruce says. “All within the city.” They watch the boy chew on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Just to see,” he says eventually. Bruce nods. “I’m not getting into a car with you,” Jason adds. “We can take the bus,” Clark offers. Jason raises an eyebrow at that, and his mouth quirks almost into a smile. “Batman and Superman are gonna ride on Gotham’s shitty public transit?” “Why not?” Clark asks. “… Okay,” Jason says, still plainly unconvinced. “Let’s meet back here,” Bruce suggests. “Tomorrow?” Jason takes a minute, but eventually starts to nod. “Sure,” he says. “Why not.” They part ways after Clark disposes of his empty bag. The heroes return to their car.

While they’re driving back Clark says, “I know that look.” Bruce pauses to take stock of his own expression, and makes sure to neutralize anything on his face that might be out of the ordinary. Clark continues, unbothered by the lack of response. “It’s your ‘I’m already deeply emotionally invested in this kid’ look.” Bruce hums noncommittally. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight,” Clark adds. Bruce doesn’t either, but that’s par for the course at this point.

Part Two

[val-aquenta]

Last day of Mace Windu Appreciation Week! The prompt: Freeform.

Here on ao3

A little fluffy moment betwen Knight Mace WIndu and Youngling Obi-Wan Kenobi. Thank you all for reading!

Mace had never meant to return to the Temple yet. As a new knight, he was meant to be out and about on missions, resettling into the sway of travelling without a Master, yet here he was. Staring down at a young child who was looking rather tearful. He knelt quickly, one hand lingering on his knee. The boy was red in his face and looked, in Mace’s opinion, positively adorable. “Forgive me, young one, I did not see you there.” There was a soft sniffle and the boy rubbed his face before looking back up, his expressions more in control. He smiled, “There you are. Now, did I hurt you?”

The boy shakes his head, looking at his hands. Oh my Force, he’s so tiny. His hands! Mace thinks watching as the boy stands up and looks up at him. “No, Master…”

Mace gently shakes his head, “I’m a knight, young one, not a Master yet. My name is Mace Windu. What’s yours?” Mace prompts.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The boy, Obi-Wan shifts slightly, looking around before turning and looking back at Mace. 

“Do you have anywhere you’re supposed to be?” He asks, head tilting slightly to the side. 

Obi-Wan looks at him with a soft smile. “Yes? But… Bant left me behind on accident, so I… I think I’m lost.” The boy’s face scrunches up in confusion. “I’ve just been walking around…” 

“And managed to get into the closed-off section?” Mace hums. He stands up. “If you would like, I can take you back to the creche?” Obi-Wan nods, stepping closer to Mace and reaching out to tug on his fingers. 

“Do you think Master Dolan will be angry?” Earnest eyes raised at him. He swears there’s a little sparkle in those eyes. 

“I think he's likely worried, Obi-Wan.” Mace looks around for a second and then begins leading the way out of the closed sector of the Temple. Back when there were more Jedi, these rooms would have been used, but now that their populations dwindled entire sections were closed off as keeping them running simply became too costly for the meagre funds the Republic sent their way. He looks down at Obi-Wan, consciously slowing his pace so that the child can keep up comfortably. Obi-Wan is quiet, remarkably so. His steps are soft little pads on the stone floor. There is a light humming coming from his companion. A song from the creche, he recalls quickly. 

“Knight Windu, how old are you?” Mace raises his brows at Obi-Wan who flushes. “I-I’m sorry Master, you don’t have to answer.” 

“Not to worry, Obi-Wan. I don’t mind, but take note that many other beings do mind.” Obi-Wan nods. “I’m 22.” 

There is a pause before the boy murmurs, “15?” Mace looks down at the boy in confusion, sending a small pulse into the Force. Obi-Wan looks up and startles a little. “Oh… 15 years difference. Between you and me.”

“So you’re… 7?” Obi-Wan nods, seeming very proud of his age. “Very old, huh?”

“Master Dolan says that soon I’ll be able to get my own crystal to build my sabre, though the power will have to be re,” Obi-Wan pauses to suck in a short breath, “regulated. Is your lightsaber regulated, Knight Windu?”

“Sometimes. If I’m sparring with friends for example. Or teaching young 7-year-olds.” He smiles gently, indicating the boy to turn left. “Here we are, just a little bit more.”

“Can I see? Please?” Obi-Wan looks at him. “What colour is it? And what about your hilt design. I’m not sure what I’d want from my hilt, or my regulator or anything, but Master Dolan says that I’ll know when the Force wills it. Did the Force tell you about your sabre, Knight Windu?” Mace blinks, a little shocked before a smile tugs the corners of his lips up. 

“I suppose it did.” He hums thoughtfully. “I had a plan, I suppose, a vague idea of what I wanted the hilt to be made of, the approximate size, the feel of it in my hand, but I had no idea how it would actually look until I made it.” He unclips his sabre, showing the general size and shape. “And the colour of the blade? Now that was a surprise.” Leaning away he thumbs it on, the purple hilt bursting forth with a comforting hum. Obi-Wan’s eyes are wide as plates, shining in the purple light. Mace thumbs it off after a moment, clipping it onto his belt. “But, perhaps you will have a different experience. Shaak, that is Knight Ti, she had a pretty detailed diagram of her lightsaber, though she tweaked it a little when she built it.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen purple. Why is it purple?” Obi-Wan shuffles closer, looking up at him. “I’ve seen all kinds of colours between green and blue and yellow and orange and I think I saw a white blade once, but I’m not sure. I was really small. But I’ve never seen purple.”

“I don’t know why it’s purple. It simply is.” Obi-Wan, if possible, looked even more enthralled. “And you? What blade do you think you will have?”

“Well… when I have visions, I see different blades all the time. Sometimes they’re all black and rough while sometimes they’re gold and silver. Master Yoda says that it's because there are so many futures and I see different ones.” He pauses for a moment. “I do want a type three aurek silver hilt, though. They feel right.”

“Uh-huh.” Mace smiles. The young boy is truly endearing with the way he talks at such a rapid speed, stopping quickly for breaths and breaks. “Oh… we’re almost here. Do you know where you are meant to be?”

Obi-Wan looks up at him. “Well… Master Dolan said we were going to go to visit the archives.” He paused for a moment, hand fiddling with the edge of his sleeve before Obi-Wan looked up. “I don’t know where it is, though.” Mace blinked and smiled softly, projecting a soft reassurance, something that he recalled his creche master doing whenever he was overwhelmed by something. 

“It is no problem, Obi-Wan. I can take you to the archives, and we’ll find Master Dolan together, alright?” He reaches down and offers his hand. 

“Are you… sure?” He speaks with hesitation layering his voice. “I mean, Master Dolan says that Jedi are busy. Aren’t you busy?” Nevertheless, Obi-Wan reaches out and places his small hand in Mace’s trotting along beside Mace as they walk towards the archives.

“I’m on a break,” Mace admits, smiling at a friend who gives them a strange look before shrugging and hurrying along. The pack on their shoulder indicates a new mission.

Obi-Wan goes through the information before nodding seriously. “Master Aliya says that it’s important to have breaks during difficult tasks to not burnout.” The young boy lets out a huff before continuing, “I guess it makes sense you’re resting.” Mace almost wants to laugh, but he fears that the endearingly serious face would lift off of Obi-Wan’s face. 

“I would hope it does,” he offers seriously instead, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand as they turn a corner almost running right into Master Rancisis. They manage to sidestep, getting a humoured look from the old Master before he slithers down the hallway. They’re almost there, and Mace feels strangely sad about it. The youngling had managed to burrow his way into his heart easily. Kira would say that most things manage to burrow their way into his heart, but he thinks even she would have problems saying no to Obi-Wan’s large eyes. “We’re almost here.”

Obi-Wan perks up, studying the hallway intently, wanting to memorise the route. “Master Yoda told us that the archives are one of the best-kept databases in the Republic. Have you ever seen another like it?” Mace thinks of the seemingly endless rows of blue holos as well as the flimsi copies kept in a more controlled environment to protect them from environmental damage. Indeed, many universities find their way into the database to use it for research. There is an open policy for the archives, though only a select few can change the contents within. He would say that no, he had not seen a library as vast and diverse and well kept as the archives, but he is not sure how much of that statement comes from a healthy fear of Madame Nu should she find out he’d said that. He’d rather not be on the archivist’s bad side. 

“Few have matched the archives' size and wealth of knowledge, though there is a vast library on Alderaan solely composed of original documents.” Obi-Wan looks at him curiously, urging him to continue, “It is more difficult for knowledge to be shared from that library due to the fact that the documents have not been recorded digitally, but it is still a vast library and a sight to behold.” He had visited it twice with Cyslin and the smell of old books paired with the elegant covers had very much seemed Alderaani. “Well, here we are. The archives. Let’s look for Mater Dolan, shall we?” Mace squeezed the hand softly, shooting Obi-Wan a smile. 

Obi-Wan grinned back and followed him, turning the corner. Almost immediately a large wookie was in front of him, and then he was kneeling down and reaching for Obi-Wan. “Thank the Force, Obi-Wan. Where in Force’s name were you? I’ve been worried sick! You and your habit of wandering…” Large hands flutter around, turning Obi-Wan from one side to the other before finally deeming him alright. The reddish-brown fur which had been standing on end in an agitated fashion smoothed down. Master Dolan’s eyes shifted from intently studying Obi-Wan’s face to looking at Mace. “Thank you so much for bringing him here. I was about to call the Temple guards.” The wookie says, head bowing in thanks. 

Mace smiles, “Oh it was no problem. Obi-Wan was a good walking companion.” He shot the boy a smile who still managed to smile back, large hands still resting on his shoulders. Master Dolan begins muttering under breath about how he was ageing prematurely and how ‘all these grey hairs are a result of your habit of wandering, young man.’ Finally, it seemed the wookie truly calmed and stood, towering over Mace though there was a gentleness in his eyes that made it feel calming and comforting. Obi-Wan stood by Master Dolan’s side, head leaning against the Master’s leg with a tired smile. 

“I’m Master Dolan,” he introduced himself, taking in a deep fortifying breath. “I can’t thank you enough, Knight…”

“Ah, Mace. Mace Windu.” Mace bowed a bit in greeting, “And truly, you don’t need to. Obi-Wan is a kind soul, I enjoyed our short walk back.”

“Nevertheless, I thank you.” 

“Ah, well, alright then. But I assure you, it was not an inconvenience at all.” Mace assured. 

The frazzled creche master calmed fully, looking down at the young child and giving him a little poke for attention. “Come now, what do you tell Knight Windu, hmm?” 

Obi-Wan blinked adorably before bowing respectfully, “thank you, Knight Windu, for bringing me back to Master Dolan.” His voice was somewhat soft, but strong still. 

“Well, thank you, Obi-Wan, for your company. I enjoyed our conversation very much.” The young boy perked up before turning to hide a bit behind the wookie Master’s leg, face bright red in embarrassment. Obi-Wan appeared to try and speak, but only a small squeak came out before he retreated further back behind the cover of the legs. 

After a while, though, the young boy found the courage to speak and peeked out, “I like talking with you, too,” he says seriously before retreating even further until he is practically hidden by the Master’s leg. 

“Well, I best be going. Master Dolan, Obi-Wan.” He bows in farewell, receiving one in response from the two. “May the Force be with you.”

Master Dolan smiles and replies in the same manner, “And with you.”

“Always. Obi-Wan adds, peeking out and waving his arm goodbye. “Bye, Knight Windu!”

[oh-boy-me]

:0 could I have a beel,asmo,belphie,lucifer,mammon, satan (not including levi) and diavolo playing videogames? I thought it would be kinda funny since they're all really old- except for levi of course haha

Ohhh this should be fun!

Decided to do individual HCs for this one instead of a group thing so they wouldn’t be limited to multiplayer games.

Most of them, save for a certain prince, have been exposed to games a fair amount by proximity to Levi.

---

Lucifer:

Lucifer has a Mononoke Land account so that he’ll get the email notifications for events and can therefore keep track of Levi’s whereabouts.  He’s never played the game, though, nor downloaded the app, and he has no intention of doing so.

In general, he’s not much of a gamer.  The most gaming he gets done is minesweeper on Windows XP.  He doesn’t have the time, and it was never something he could get into.

That isn’t to say that he owns zero games, though.  His favorite genre is turn-based strategy, because he can afford to look away from them, and they make him think and plan.

He doesn’t like the hyper-realistic ones, though.  Things like Civilization and Here Be Dragons are up his alley, Hearts of Iron not so much.

He doesn’t care too much about the story, but a good soundtrack is mandatory.

Also he’s an old man so the controls also have to be intuitive or he just won’t be able to play.  Why is he jumping when he presses A he thought that was the attack button.

The type of player who needs to get every achievement.  A completionist.

When the group gets together for the rare multiplayer night, he has no idea what he’s doing and yet still manages to do well.  It’s kind of infuriating.

He won’t make alliances with anyone, no, it’s every man for himself.  He also actively targets Mammon no matter what game they’re playing.

The fact that he doesn’t really get it protects his pride when Levi inevitably wipes the floor with him.

Mammon:

Mammon actually does game a little bit in his spare time, mostly with Levi.  He’s got a couple consoles and is more open to different genres than Lucifer is.

He thrives in any game where the main goal is to rack up as many points or as much profit as possible.  He’s undefeated in tycoons and pinball.  (Tetris is an exception; he’s terrible at Tetris.  Stupid spacial recognition.)

The RNG elements boil down to his insane luck, but he’s actually very smart when it comes to investments and stuff, so it’s not like he’s only using his luck to get by.

If the games have multiplayer, even better!  Nothing like kicking Levi, MC and Belphie’s asses in a game of Fortune Street!

He also tends to like the action-focused games that Levi plays.  Not so much into turn-based RPGs, but he enjoys stuff where the enemies spawn, like in Zelda or Rune Factory.  And he’s great at button mashing in fighting games, although Levi, who actually knows how to play them, always beats him.

Mammon uses items as soon as he gets them, and is too busy rushing a boss to care about learning its patterns and strategizing.

Skips cutscenes even on his first run.  Levi and Satan hate him for it.

Like mentioned before, he gets an unfair disadvantage in game nights because everyone targets him.  Especially in those games with RNG, because otherwise he WILL win.

He’s banned from PTW games because he will indeed PTW.

Satan:

Satan is another one who doesn’t play too many games, and that might be for the best because he’s a nightmare to play with.

The sorest loser, and a pretty nasty winner too.  He insists on the hardest difficulty and then rage quits at the slightest inconvenience.

He will play when prompted, though; he’s not above hanging out with his brothers.  His favorite sorts of games are ones with a good story and/or good puzzles.  His planning is more on the tactics side, as opposed to Lucifer’s strategy, so he would love Fire Emblem.

He WILL drop a game if the story isn’t holding his attention, and he’s done so in the past.

Overly cautious and hoards resources.  He takes the safe route every time.

Also another completionist.

Beel would often ask Satan to help him find out which art pieces were originals and safe to buy in Animal Crossing, and Satan got a little bit interested and ended up making a resident on Beel’s cartridge so the donations could be in his name.  He went on a mini-campaign to drive out the residents he didn’t like, but one of them turned out to be Beel's favorite and he felt terrible about it for weeks.

During family game nights, everyone is always torn between appeasing Satan and telling him to deal with it when he loses.

He also gets angry if he catches on to the fact that they’re letting him win, though.

Probably a genwunner.

Asmodeus:

Asmo enjoys video games.  They don’t fit into his aesthetic so he’s never really tried to understand them, but he doesn’t dislike them by any means.

Gaming is becoming more mainstream though, right?  That’s a whole new audience that could appreciate him.  Maybe, just maybe, he can let himself be a bit of a geek.

Unsurprisingly, he’s got a penchant for games with customization options.  Surprisingly, he also really enjoys FPS games.  If he and Levi ever played at the same time, it would be chaos in the House of Lamentation.

As opposed to his in-your-face attitude, he likes to play sniper units.

He said he wants to tap into the gaming community, but he’s not very good at most of the games he plays so he’s too embarrassed to actually do so.  He does, however, play the Sims on livestream.  He does his best to make the steamiest and most dramatic scenarios happen, and he’ll hold strawpolls to let his viewers make some choices.

Asmo also plays Animal Crossing like a few other brothers, but his island is so well groomed and with just the right residents, it feels like you’re touring an uncanny dystopia and Asmo is the dictator.

When the group gets together, he usually ends up doing the worst.  He’s more interested in executing perfect combos than actually dealing damage, so he’s not aggressive enough to get anything done against players like Levi and Satan.

He’s also not very good at teamwork; he starts yelling at his partner very quickly.

Beelzebub:

Beel doesn’t have a lot of “gamer” in him, but some of his brothers seem to like it so he decided to give it a go.  Turns out his hands are too big, but he makes do.  Kind of.

You’d expect a sports game to be the best for him, since he’s so athletic.  However, it’s BECAUSE he’s so athletic that this sort of game isn’t in his library.  He gets too antsy and bored tapping buttons instead of actually playing the sport.

Beel’s also not an aggressive player in any sense of the word.  He feels guilty even hurting the most basic of slimes.

No, no games are better for Beel than the stress-free, casual life simulators.  Animal Crossing is no surprise his favorite one right now.  Satan handles the museum for him while Beel gets to do whatever he feels like in a world where the biggest threat is a wasp.

He’ll also play other low stakes games where living your life is the main goal, like Harvest Moon and Stardew Valley.  His big heart can never choose who to marry in those games.

Horror is also ok for him, because while aggression is hard for him, self-defense is not.

He got the Cooking Mama app on his D.D.D. and bit the device in half, so he’s not allowed to touch that franchise anymore.

When the gang meets up, his non-aggressive side sticks around.  In fighting games, he’s more likely to dodge and steer clear of the others, and in other versus games he’s so open to compromise you’d think you were on the same team.

Satan did get him his favorite resident back.

Belphegor:

Belphie probably games the second most after Levi; it’s something that keeps him entertained but doesn’t require him to move very much at all.

I actually have no idea how to describe his preferred genres, but League of Legends and Dark Souls is basically all you need to know.

League lets him socialize a bit, and it’s the game that he and Levi play together most often.  As for Dark Souls, he loves the sort of game where learning your opponent’s every move and outsmarting/outmaneuvering them is the only path to victory.

I guess that would be described as “really hard action-adventure” games?  He’d also like Sekiro.

He also has his own copy of Animal Crossing to visit and play with Beel, but his island is so underdeveloped you’d think he started that same week.

Belphie is the true wild card of family game nights; sometimes he sleeps through the whole thing, while other times he can take down even Levi.

He has everyone’s habits down to a T--Mammon charges in, Asmo does too much setup, Levi’s overconfident--and he knows how to counter each and every one of them.

For someone who’s so much of a cunning player, though, he also misclicks a lot.

He’s the most likely out of his brothers to make alliances.  He’s also the most likely to break alliances.

If he doesn’t think he can win, he’ll choose a player and start sabotaging the game in their favor.

Diavolo:

Lord Diavolo had read about like, Mario?  The little blue hedgehog guy?  But he’d never owned a gaming console before.  He probably thought Neopets was peak gaming.

Levi swore to fix this grievous error, and this was also a mistake, because now Diavolo keeps trying to get Lucifer to play all these hack and slash games with him.

He has legitimately told Lucifer that “if you don’t play Devil May Cry with me THIS devil may cry!”

The games need to always have something happening in them or he’ll get bored, kind of like Satan’s need for a good story, except with action.

It’s also worth mentioning that “play a game with Diavolo” actually means “sit in the same room as Diavolo while he plays.”

And oh boy… is he terrible at these games.

He just button mashes until either he dies or all the enemies die.

Never uses any of the items he gets because he’s sure he’ll need them more later on.  When, Diavolo?  During the staff roll?

Will bomb a door before trying the knob.

Since he’s usually only around Lucifer, who doesn’t want to get sucked into this, and Barbatos, who honestly couldn’t care less about this, he’s been left alone and free to develop these terrible gaming habits.

It’s rare that he comes to family gaming night.  Legend has it that Lucifer’s piercing glare is somehow connected to the fact that his brothers always let Diavolo win.

Masterlist

[possiamo-andare]

Overdue: JJ Maybank

JJ x Y/N

MASTERLIST

word count: 2.4k

summary: Y/N has been on the waiting list to check out a library book for months. JJ has the long-overdue book. The two coincidentally meet one day at the library.

a/n: ugh I feel like all the fics I write are written at 1am lol. This one is not edited yet but i hope you like it!!

~

If there was one place in the world JJ Maybank knew he'd never step foot in, it was a library. Although more intelligent than he gave himself credit, he felt as though he had a reputation to upkeep and certainly walking through each shelf of his school's library would tarnish his record. So, every week before Pope entered the library for study hall, JJ would write down a list of books he needed Pope to take out on his card. Pope thought the entire idea was completely stupid, thinking no one would care whether JJ read books or not but the boy was convinced. Granted, some people may be surprised but kids in highschool were too worried about embarrassing themselves than to pay attention to anyone else. Unfortunately JJ did not realize this and so, without fail, Pope rented books for him.

What seemed like a foolproof plan quickly escalated into more. Usually Pope showed up everyday to school but one day, almost a year after JJ had first asked him for the same favour, Pope caught a big which turned out to be strep throat. He didn't show up to school for two weeks. This meant his books were overdue by two weeks. Every week was a five dollar fine and now, on account of bot only Pope's illness but also JJ's fear, JJ owed the school librarian ten dollars.

The second Pope showed up to school two weeks later, JJ pounced. He had been nervously waiting around for two weeks and had grown restless. After two weeks, teachers went around to the students classrooms and called there names. Everyone would know JJ had rented Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and he would look like a clown.

To you and I, this seems like a stupid fear. But you have to realize where JJ is coming from. His entire life, his father had made him feel stupid. As if he didn't deserve an education because he wasn't as smart as everyone else. If he had been nurtured like Pope or Kie had, maybe he wouldn't be so scared to rent a book. But now, the damage was done and the book was overdue. It would take a miracle for JJ to not be embarrassed that he actually enjoyed reading. It transported him to another place. A place where there were no demanding fathers or rotten Kooks. Just him and the protagonist. Books gave him an escape.

Pope understood how JJ felt and wanted to help his friend, although he thought the whole thing was stupid. He would've returned Pride and Prejudice himself if it were not for the newly enforced rule the librarian had.

"The person whose card it was rented on has to pay the fine." Pope explained, leaning against the wall beside the library doors.

JJ sighed, running his free hand through his hair. He had his book under his short like it was some sort of contraband. "When did this happen?"

Pope shrugged. "A month ago."

JJ sighs louder this time, lightly banging his fist against the wall. "So, just say you're me."

Pope shook his head, indignant. "No way. If I get in trouble, they'll never let me back inside. Just swallow your pride and pay the fine."

JJ scoffed, looking around before taking Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice out from underneath his shirt. "Yeah? And say what? That me, JJ fucking Maybank, just decided to read a romance novel one day?"

Pope shrugged again, glancing to the clock. He was gonna be late on his first day back. "Isn't that what literally happened?"

JJ frowned for a moment. "Yes. Well, no. It's not just a romance novel, it's so much more than that."

Pope rolled his eyes. "That's not what I'm talking about. Just be discreet. Trust me no one will notice."

Famous last words, JJ thought. He knew Pope was not about to break the rules for him. At least not these rules. The library was Pope's safe space and JJ didn't want to take that away from him. So, doing as Pope said and swallowing his pride, JJ stuffed the book back under his shirt and opened the library door. As he quietly closed the door behind him, he realized that no one looked up from their books. JJ exhaled, clearly pleased no one noticed him enter. As discreetly as JJ could, he tiptoed his way to the librarian's front desk where he knew he could return his overdue book. The woman standing behind the desk was nothing like the librarians he saw on tv. This lady was older but she couldn't be older than 45 and she wore ripped jeans and a loose cardigan. Her hair was dyed a dark black and glimmering pink gloss was painted on her lips. Seeing this as a sign she would not judge him, JJ scurried towards the woman. When he finally approached her desk, she looked up from her book with a smile.

"What can I do for you?" She politely whispered.

JJ looked over his shoulder for a moment, making sure no one was watching. He slowly looked back around to the librarian. "I need to return an overdue book." His voice was just above a whisper.

The librarian nodded, typing on her computer for a moment before looking back to JJ. "Student 1D number?"

JJ leaned forward, glancing around the room for a second time. He quietly told the woman his ID number before she pressed enter. She read his file before turning to him with the same smile on her face.

"This is your first offence," she paused for a moment, clearly thinking she had made a funny joke. "So I won't charge you. Pride and Prejudice is such a good read, I don't blame you."

Much calmer than he was when he first entered, JJ's shoulders slumped. He had been so nervous, and for what? Finally he reached under his shirt once more and pulled out the book. With a smile on his face, he quietly thanked the librarian. Unfortunately, this is not where the story ends. Seconds after the book lands on the desk, JJ hears a voice from behind him. He doesn't even have time to take his hand off the cover of the book before someone else's hand is on top of his. This hand is smaller than his but stronger as they push down on JJ's knuckles.

"Jane, I've been waiting for this book for three weeks! I put my name on a waiting list so you can't give it to him." A girl a little shorter than JJ stands beside him, her voice not as nearly as low as it should be. Considering she's in a library, JJ's surprised she's raising her voice at all.

"He's just returning it Y/N." The librarian, Jane, explains.

JJ thinks he's out of the woods but that's not true. When the girl beside him figures out he's been the one making her wait, her hand only presses harder against his. He whimpers, trying to move his hand but fails. He finally looks to the girl who is as strong as the fucking hulk.

When their eyes meet, JJ feels himself fall apart. JJ knows that as a teenager, everything he feels is heightened but in that moment, he felt his heart give out. She was beyond beautiful. She wasn't like most girls he dated but at the same time, JJ didn't have a type. For the first time in awhile, JJ was speechless as he watched this beautiful girl glare at him.

"You know there's a due date for a reason?" She pressed, her brows only pulling closer together.

JJ only nodded, trying to compose himself. He seriously was trying to look for the words.

When JJ didn't respond, Y/N only rolled her eyes and continued to lecture. "My copy was ruined and I needed this one. What do you have to say for yourself?"

JJ gulped, looking to the librarian who already had her nose back in her book as she let JJ and Y/N sort things out. He looked back to Y/N and finally spoke. "My hand hurts."

Y/N frowns, not understanding him for a moment before looking down. She looks in horror as she sees her hand pressed against his. She had been so angry when she saw JJ enter the library with the book noticeably under his shirt that she forgot her manners. Embarrassed, she let go and she was surprised to see JJ lift his hand off the cover of the book as well. Their eyes locked to each other again and now Y/N had felt had JJ had first felt.

She of course knew who JJ was. This was the last place she thought she'd meet him in but she was more surprised by how her stomach felt as she looked into his blue eyes. Her stomach was making giant flips and she knew what that meant. She had crushes before but she forced herself to swallow it down. Not on JJ Maybank. She wouldn't allow herself to crush on such a player.

"Sorry." She frowned, clasping her hands together. She reminded herself why she was here and finally veered back on topic. "You can only take books out for a week."

JJ nodded, a small smile on his lips now. He had learned how to tell if a girl liked you and he knew, by the way she began to avoid eye contact and when she tucked her hair behind her ear, that she found him just as beautiful as he found her.

"I'm sorry." He smirked, leaning his elbow against the front desk.

Y/N finally snapped out of the daydream, realizing exactly what JJ was trying to do. She had met enough guys like JJ to know him smirking and leaning so nonchalantly against the desk meant he was trying to flirt with her. And she would not allow it.

"Nope." Y/N shook her head, picking up the book from the desk. She placed it underneath her armpit before turning around and trying to make her way out of the library quickly. "Jane, charge this to my account."

JJ was confused at first, following behind the pretty girl. "No what?"

Y/N scoffed, placing her hand on the doorknob but not opening the door. She promised herself after she exited this room, she would ignore JJ. She was sure he would not want to be seen with her and she would feel better if her friends knew nothing about this encounter. Not because she was embarrassed but just because they would ask too many questions.

"No, I'm not doing this with you." Y/N explained, watching as JJ chuckled to himself.

"I'm not doing anything. We're just two friends talking." JJ pressed, his confidence spiking when he receives a little push back from this beautiful girl. If he truly knew that she wasn't interested, he wouldve left her alone. But he knew she didn't want that. If she really didn't want to entertain him, she would've already been out the door and down the hall.

"One, we're not friends. Two, I know you JJ. You came here discreetly to return a novel people will mistake for a romance novel. Now, you're trying to hit on me." Y/N speaks bluntly, wanting to seem unbothered by his attraction to her. She wants to seem as if she gets this kind of attention all the time when in reality, she's never had a boyfriend.

She was sure fooling JJ. "Ah, I see. So you know everything about me."

Y/N shrugged, her hand still not leaving the door knob. "As much as anyone else."

"Well then, you don't know much." JJ counters, the smirk never leaving his face.

"Like what?" Y/N presses, wondering what he is going to share.

"That I save most of my cheesiest pick up lines for the prettiest girls." JJ confesses, a soft smile now on his lips.

Y/N, although her cheeks hot from the compliment, hides it by rolling her eyes. "Like what?"

JJ stops and thinks for a moment. He knows he really needs to nail this because she is finally listening to him for real. "Like... girl, you must be a library book because I can't stop checking you out."

A smile appears on Y/N's face and as much as she wants to hide it, she can't. "That's stupid."

JJ nodded. "Fair point, but it made you smile."

Y/N shrugs, finally turning the knob to open the door. When it's open, she looks to JJ. Talking a deep breath, she speaks. "Okay JJ. Tell me what you want from me."

JJ shrugs, a soft smile written on his lips. He looks out the door and down the hall, watching as Kie and Pope laugh at something the other said. He finally looks back to Y/N before speaking. "I wanna root beer float and I want one with you."

Y/N's face is unreadable for a moment and JJ starts to sweat. He thinks he has been to forward and wants to slap himself. Suddenly, Y/N's lips turn up into a smile and JJ feels himself relax.

"Sure. I don't have much to do either than thread this book another fifty times." Y/N expects JJ to laugh but he only continues to softly smile at her.

For a moment, Y/N feels embarrassed but then JJ reaches forward to grab onto her fresh hand and she freezes. Her hand buzzes with excitement as she feels a small smile appear on her lips. JJ is happy to know she appears as nervous as he is.

"I'd love for you to read it to me." JJ inquires, searching in her eyes for the answer.

Y/N nods quickly, the idea popping I'm jer head a long time ago. "I'd love to."

As they walked down the hall, they allowed themselves to fully get to know one another. Y/N and JJ spoke about school and their lives but most importantly, about books. They spoke over one another many times but never to be rude, only to laugh or add a witty response. And as Y/N held on tight to her book, she felt as though she would have to pay an overdue fine some time soon too.

~

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