library cart

Library Assistant!Wonwoo

i’m back with one of the most precious boys in t world, jeon wonwoo <3

Originally posted by dinochans

• anon wanted a troublemaker reader so here we gooo
you and mingyu are best friends and since you’re kind of outgoing and daring you tend to drag him everywhere
• to the library for instance

Keep reading

Romanian Book Vocabulary 

  • Book - Carte 
  • Library - Bibliotecă  
  • Bookseller - Librărie  
  • To read - A citi 
  • To love - A iubi  
  • To finish - A termina  
  • Chapter - Capitol  
  • Volume - Volum  
  • Biography - Biografie  
  • Dictionary - Dicţionar 
  • Comic - Comic 
  • Fiction - Fictiune  
  • Horror - Groază 
  • Fantasy - Fantezie 
  • New - Nou 
  • Used - Vechi
  • Author - Autor
  • Character - Carater
Library Services at Elsewhere University: A Guide and Compendium; Part Two: Staff Handbook - Circulation Services

Crossposted to AO3

Pages fall under the jurisdiction of Circulation Services, the most concrete and visible department in the library. Most student pages work the day shift, and are paid an hourly rate by Campus Services’s payroll. They are part of the non-academic staff union, with all the protections that entails. There are some work experience placements where hours worked may be traded for course credit, for favours, for knowledge, or as part of the payment of a geas, curse, wager, or other obligation. Work experience students are not paid an hourly rate, and will be limited to supervised shelf-reading on floors three to six, and pre-sorting the shelving carts.

Applications for student positions can be dropped off with the administrative assistant on the eighth floor (getting safely to the eighth floor and back again is considered to be the first part of the application process), submitted electronically through the library’s website (navigating the deepest corners of the library website and emerging without losing small fragments of your short term memory and forgetting what you were there for is considered to be an alternate first step to visiting the eighth floor), or delivered to the bees in the rooftop garden by whatever means necessary. Kindly note that carrier pigeons do not fare well. Students enrolled in undergraduate library science courses, or with prior library experience, may be considered for part-time term circulation clerk positions.

Day shift student pages are always sent out in pairs, and will sign in and out together at the beginning of each shift. They are expected to wear closed-toed shoes, and fill their pockets full of salt packets and library-issued paperclips before leaving the circulation workroom. Most of the shelving carts are steel, and like all shelving carts in libraries everywhere, tend to have a mind of their own that can only sometimes be attributed to the one wheel that won’t stay straight. The carts have their share of dents, scratches, and mysterious arcane markings that may or may not be graffiti. If your shelving cart locks up and refuses to turn down a particular aisle, or through a certain doorway, pay attention.

For safety reasons and to promote a culture of professionalism and public service in the library, headphones are not to be worn in public areas. While working in back rooms and offices, headphones worn in one ear may be permitted. However, if you find yourself using your headphones to block out unsettling noises in your general vicinity, consider contacting a supervisor or other senior staff member on shift to report the disturbance. We are all responsible for maintaining a healthy and safe workplace. If the oozing signs of the great ichor beast infestation of 2003 had been caught sooner, the third-floor carpet may not have needed to be replaced quite so soon.

Day pages are encouraged not to wear non-medical adaptive lenses while working. There are some things in the library that it is safer not to see. Night pages have already seen it all.

Night shift pages shelve throughout the library. Officially, this covers floors one to six, sub-basements one and two, and special collections including the ninth floor. Unofficially, the books on floors ten through twenty-three also need attention. An accurate system may yet be devised for self-shelving books, but it would not be a very safe system. The pages keep order by walking the boundaries as much as by putting the books back in the proper spot.

None of the student pages are ever assigned to shelve on the seventh floor. Instead, the seniormost person working in the circ department is tasked each night with taking up the full shelving cart and leaving it outside the elevator with exactly two-thirds of a cup of the real coffee cream from the staff fridge, always in a ceramic mug, a shot of Bailey’s in a saucer, and whatever button B9 on the vending machine by the fourth-floor study carrels has chosen to dispense. Often, it’s a chocolate bar with a wrapper in a language that you swear you used to know. Other times, fresh flowers that are just as familiar and maddeningly undefined and unnamed, sealed in a 750 ml pop bottle. One night last winter, it was a small jade carving of a salamander. In the morning, the empty cart is always waiting in the exact centre of the elevator.

The cart for the seventh floor is one of the only remaining wooden shelving carts in the library. (There is one more down in Bibliographic Services with the cataloguers, and a third up in Special Collections.) Most days, this is unremarkable, but there was one morning last spring when the morning circ staff opened the elevator to find that the seventh floor cart had sprouted into small branches, bearing tiny white flowers that smelled like a cross between hawthorn and lilac. By sunset, the twigs had grown brittle, and the floor was littered with petals, and by closing, all traces were gone, except for the sprig that still sits on the Circulation Manager’s desk. She keeps it in an old-fashioned ink bottle, inherited from her predecessor, and the brnach has started to put out small tendrils and shoots. Eventually, it will be transplanted to the rooftop garden. There is a reason for all of this, but it is not a secret that can be shared.

The Circulation Manager (commonly known as Circulation) oversees the circulation desk and staff responsible for check in and check out, the pages, membership services including fees and fines, co-ordinates wards and security for main-floor entrances and exits with building maintenance, ensures the borders are patrolled, an efficient and effective workflow of materials is upheld throughout the library, and a high standard of customer service is maintained by her staff throughout the library.

She has conversations with freshman pages about appropriate footwear (it’s admirable when those who have come back… different still show up for their scheduled shift, but barefoot is not acceptable for safety reasons while working), ensures to the best of her considerable abilities that no-one loses their arm in the book drop abyss, comes in after-hours several times a semester to arrange staff meetings by seance for the night pages, and co-ordinates and heads up the search parties into the Deep Library on a regular schedule that is posted by the photocopiers and study room sign-up sheets.

She wears a chain of linked paperclips wrapped twelve times around each wrist. It looks whimsical. The paperclips look like everyday cheap steel wire. It is neither of these things. One wrist is iron, and the other is silver. The number of paperclips vary. Rumour has it when she was on the bargaining team during the last round of union contract negotations, at the end of it all she’d gained a handful of coloured paperclips on the right (iron) wrist, and the number of silver paperclips had dipped by half. But the negotiations didn’t go to arbitration, and the library didn’t lose any staff–none of the day pages have vanished en route to their shift between the dorms and the library since.

She values efficient workflows and common sense, good customer service, strong coffee, the protective power of an iron-tipped javelin of indeterminate origin that’s stashed behind her office door, and keeping all beverages in containers with a lid while working at the circ desk. There are rumours that she has eyes in the back of her head. (She doesn’t. She just borrows other sets of eyes as needed.)

The library diviner has foreseen that there will come a day of sacrifice where, gaunt-faced and battle-worn, she will be down to a single chain of paper clips around each wrist, facing down an unseen foe with a broken javelin–or there will not.

There are three senior staff (one library tech, two full-time clerks), nine part-time clerks on the desk, and nine in the back. The pool of student pages is a shifting total.

The library tech in circulation is responsible for the scheduling, for training the pages, updating policies and procedures, acting as shift supervisor, arbitrator and sentinel as needed, and ordering supplies. He’s a relatively new grad, and is still getting used to the ins and outs of the job and the library. He’s braver and more resourceful than he thinks he is. Last Sunday shift, he broke up two make-out sessions, called Campus Security to deal with a third incident that had gone rather further than making out, and informed a large, wet black horse that was dripping on the marble floor in the foyer that offering rides to students is considered to be soliciting goods and/or services and prohibited by library policy.

Circulation staff in the back process returned items that arrive through the book drops, intercampus mail, and dropped off on the library doorstep in the dead of night in a padlocked trunk or in a wicker basket swaddled in blankets embroidered in a script that twists and writhes when you try to read it. There is a whole new level of blasé to odd-things-found-in-books when a bacon bookmark is positively mundane, and some of the more archaic items may actually take off a finger. Safe work practices on material handling, ergonomic workstation adjustment, and rudimentary cursebreaking are part of the core training for the position.

Circ staff need to be fast, efficient, detail-oriented, and have the focus to not be lulled into a false sense of complacency by often-routine work. A logical mind with just the right sort of twists, and you can untangle the oddest errors in the circulation records. Enough experience, and you can tell when something’s off with a book just by the feel of it in your hands, whether it’s the subtle swell of water-damaged pages, or the lingering pins and needles of a forbidden tome returned without its library-issued protective envelope from special collections.

The main book drop has affectionately been nicknamed the abyss, partly due to its often-unending nature, and partly because of the strange treasures that will surface from its depths on occasion. Crumbling manuscripts and scrolls with no library markings appear regularly, as do engraved stone tablets, elaborately beaded woven cords, and silk fans. Pre-Cambrian fossils appear to be in vogue this fall, dropping in with the overdue reserve material at a rate of two or three a day. Items such as these that are returned in error from other libraries are placed on a reserve shelf waiting to be claimed for a period of no less than one lunar month before being moved to the lost and found.

The self-checks are temperamental. There are rumors that they’ve developed artificial intelligence and are conspiring to recruit the photocopiers next. It will still take one of the clerks on the circ desk, however, to troubleshoot your missing book that you swear you returned (shelf checks for claims-returned items are entrusted to the night pages) and waive your overdue fines (temporal shifts are mapped at the beginning of each semester, but have been known to ebb and flow, often in correlation with the phantom trains’ unfathomable schedules), figure out why your card and PIN won’t let you into the aggregated database searches for journal articles (often the price is too high to be paid for database licenses).

The circulation desk staff are the keepers of the Lost and Found. There is always the mundane detritus of water bottles and mittens, forgotten notebooks, and iron washers plaited into lanyards for the campus rec centre. Sometimes, there are more arcane items. This week’s finds include: a small linen bag stitched in red thread, full of yellowed bird bones and a smooth, round river rock; a perfect replica of an original NES Gameboy, carved in petrified wood; a string of twenty-seven broken mood rings, hung on a leather cord; and two kilograms of an unidentified substance that looked like marijuana but smelled like raspberries, which was turned over to campus security for further investigation.

There is always a stash of plastic beads in one of the drawers at the circ desk, along with a mixed handful of coins and dried leaves, keys to several filing cabinets and doors that no longer exist, another labelled key that will actually open a door that doesn’t exist, date-due stamps that continue to appear like talismans though the library hasn’t used paper cards and stamps for sign-outs since the late eighties, and the one little-used lower filing cabinet drawer that is sometimes full of handwritten overdue notices from seventy years ago, sometimes opens on a swirling, screaming void, and occasionally contains green moss, mushrooms, and a faint bioluminescent glow. Don’t eat the mushrooms–they’re a protected variety making a slow comeback from the brink of extinction. Don’t drop things into the screaming void–that’s just inconsiderate.

The circ clerks need to be fast, accurate, have a head for multiple policies and procedures, the good judgement to know when to follow the rules, and when to bend them. They need to know when to turn a blind eye to the seven-foot thorn-crowned figure frowning at the book return, and when a faint whisper behind them while unjamming the photocopier is cause to whip out the emergency salt box from behind the desk.

As everyone in the department will tell you, Circ is the life-blood of the library, and keeps material flowing through its vast and beating heart. The Library would grind to a stagnant and useless standstill without the Circulation Department.

Notes: Somewhere along the way, this has turned into a love letter to libraries and the people who work in them.

Part OnePart Two Part Three (Parts Five to Seven forthcoming)


Support public libraries!!

I am heartsick from seeing so many thousands of books being thrown in the trash, week after week after week with no end in sight.

Please support your public library!

It is super-easy: all you have to do is use the library. The following is a list of things you can do at the library, and all of it helps both you and the library, so win-win!

Not all libraries offer all of these services, but if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask a librarian or to check the library’s Web site!

*Walk through the front door.
(Seriously - every person who enters the building adds to a statistic that tells the people in charge that the library is being utilized and should be given resources accordingly.)

*Use their free Wi-Fi or sign up to use a public computer.

*Check out movies, TV shows, and documentaries (and anime!).
(The library has a lot more than just books! You can check out all sorts of things.)

-You can order items from other branches if the branch you visit doesn’t have what you’re looking for. The items will be sent to whichever branch you specify and reserved for a little while under your name so that you can pick them up and check them out at your convenience.

-There’s also a service that does the same thing, except you can order items from other cities if your local library doesn’t have what you’re looking for.

*Check out music CDs - rock, country, R&B, classical, movie soundtracks, folk, you name it!

*Check out laptops or tablets.

*Use their job center, which can offer free help with résumés and such.

*Attend free classes at their adult education center.

*Use their copier, scanner, or fax machine (there’s usually a charge for this, but most of the other library services are free).

*Check out e-books or vinyl LPs.

*Check out audiobooks.
These are great for people who don’t have time to sit down and read a book. You can listen to audiobooks while driving, exercising, or doing housework.

*Check out books, DVDs, and music in other languages, such as Spanish.

*Read the newspapers and magazines. (You can check out older magazines just like you would books.)

*Attend library-sponsored or -hosted programs and events, such as story time for children, activities for teens, art shows and concerts, book clubs, etc.

*Rent the event room for your own events, meetings, etc.

*Buy used books, movies, etc. for super-cheap prices at the library’s book sales.
(Some of these items were donated for this purpose. Other items were withdrawn from the library’s collection because they weren’t getting checked out, and this is their last chance to be useful to someone - if they don’t sell, they eventually get thrown away.)

*Donate books, movies, etc. to be sold in library book sales.

*And, of course, check out books. Books get withdrawn when they haven’t been checked out in a while. Some of these books go to the book sales, but others…sometimes a lot of others…go straight into the garbage.

Check out books that you have any interest in whatsoever, even if you don’t get a chance to finish reading them.

Check out books you love that you want to remain on the shelves for new readers to find.

In addition to fiction (including comic books and manga!), there is fantastic non-fiction on subjects such as:

-Car repair manuals
-Pregnancy and child-rearing
-Movies (as in, books about movies or TV shows)
-Job hunting or career-improving
-Crafts (including crochet, knitting, etc.)
-Political and economic commentary
-Memoirs (in addition to biographies of famous historical figures, there are many fascinating books written by contemporary people with vastly different life experiences)
-Fashion, makeup, hairstyling, etc.
-Academic subjects like math and foreign languages
-Physical and mental illnesses
-Dating and marriage
-Allllllll sorts of books about animals
-Religious studies
-Gender issues
-Race issues
-Home decor
-Various science topics like astronomy, geology, etc.
-All kinds of art

*And more! Check your library’s Web site or ask a librarian about any other services and programs they might offer, such as free help preparing tax returns or free meals for children during summer vacation.

Additional ways you can support the library:

(It’ll look good on your résumé or college application, too.)

*Donate money.
(Make sure it goes straight to the library rather than just the city in general.)

Public libraries are super-important and super-helpful community resources! There is so much cool stuff to do there, everything from entertainment to self-education to enrichment.

The public library is here for you, so make use of it! Prove to the people in charge that the library is valued and deserves more resources to provide even more cool stuff to patrons.

Gajevy Week 2017: A Surreptitious Suitor

Summary: Library and book-related hijinks, and a secret admirer? Connected stories following Gajeel and Levy’s relationship written for Gajevy Week 2017. All chapters rated T for language, innuendo, and paranoia playing it safe ;-)

(Author’s Note: This is my first time writing for Gajevy week, or any ship week for that matter. Fairly certain I’ve lost my mind.)

Read HERE on

                                            Day 1 Prompt: Matching

No one in Fairy Tail—hell, no one in Fiore—was surprised when Levy McGarden began volunteering at the local library in Magnolia. Truth be told, she would’ve loved a part-time job either there or at Book Land, but being a Fairy Tail mage came with a rather irregular schedule, between jobs with her team and miscellaneous villains bent on world domination or destruction. But volunteering worked just fine for her, enabling her to spend time surrounded by her much-loved books as well as giving back to the community that had been so supportive of their guild.

Keep reading

Portrait of a young woman with her hair pulled back, wearing suit coat, vest and turned down collar with small bow tie. Printed on photo back: “Revenaugh & Co. successor to Geo. C. Gillett, photographic & art studio, Kelley’s Block, East Huron St., Ann Arbor, Mich., negatives preserved, old pictures enlarged to any size desired, and finished in ink, oil or watercolors in a superior manner.”

  • Courtesy of the Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library

Carte de visite portrait of a smiling African American boy posing with a dog, c. 1860′s.

Source: Library of Congress.

always remember, never forget (a)

genre: angst

words: 1,638

you don’t remember the day you met min yoongi.  was it a warm day during summer break before your first year of college? or was it a cold, snowing day before christmas?  although you don’t remember how you first met, you’ll always remember the first date; a feast of greasy fast food in his car, overlooking the river.  you’ll always remember the first kiss, initiated by him, outside of your freshman dorm.  his breath was warm, his lips were a tad cracked, and he tasted like the cherry slushy you both had shared a few hours before.  you don’t remember the second, or the third, or majority of the kisses after, but you’ll always remember that cherry embrace.  you remember calling him after getting hired at the elementary school downtown; the tears streaming down your face as you finally had a grasp on your dream.  you remember him gasping in excitement, “that’s so amazing jigaya!  i’m so proud of you!”  you’ll always remember the morning he asked you to move in with him; after a night of mini-golf, and four bowls of ramen, the raven-haired boy had convinced you to stay the night.  waking up bare, wrapped in white sheets and his strong embrace, you’ll never forget him telling you he wished he always could wake up like this, soon after asking you formally if you would take a key.  you’ll never forget your first big fight; a drunk yoongi arriving home at 3am, knocking over a plotted plant, awaking you from your distressing slumber. you don’t remember the words said, or how long you spent crying, but you remember him sleeping on the couch, while you wrapped yourself in the cotton sheets and laid awake.  You don’t remember the first “i love you”; did you or he say it first?   you might not remember the first time, but you’ll always remember how he whispered those three words in your ear before kissing your hand and getting down on one knee. yoongi never liked too much attention, choosing to propose in the confines of your own shared home, on the night of your 24th birthday, tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded frantically, the small ring sliding onto your finger as the familiar chapped lips met your conditioned ones. you’ll never forget your trip to thailand, riding elephants, and talking strolls in the old buildings.  you’ll never forget swinging your hands, turning your head and asking, “what if we just got married now?”  neither of you minded the sudden action, you still believe it made it even more memorable. you remember returning home and telling all your students the great news, each child squealing and running to their tables to make you congratulation cards (even though majority of them couldn’t even spell “congratulations”).  you’ll always remember watching a sit com one night with your husband, your thoughts jumbled as you thought about your future.  “yoongi?” you asked softly, “yes my love?”  he asked, keeping his attention on the television.  “do you want children?”  you don’t remember if you’d had that talk before, you might have long before you got married, but seeing your students get older and continue in their next grades, your love for children grew.  yoongi looked at you, “is that why you’ve been so tense love?  i’d love to have children with you, i just, y’know, never knew how to bring it up…” he mumbled and flushed.  you smiled, getting up and taking his hand, “then let’s make one,” you smiled.  sudden decisions were always made between the two of you, not that neither of you minded. you’ll never forget calling yoongi during a spring afternoon, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks as you held your cellphone in one hand, and a positive pregnancy test in the other.  yoongi’s sniffles the only thing you could hear as you told him the good news.  months later, holding your baby girl in your arms, pointing out that she has her father’s eyelashes and nose.  you don’t remember the day she took her first steps, or where the first word she said was appa or omma, but you can remember the happiness, radiating for both you and your husband.  you’ll never forget the day after your daughters second birthday, waking up in a cold bed, finding yoongi ejecting the contents of his stomach into the toilet. you’ll never forget the week he spent out of work, practically living in the bathroom, unable to keep down something as simple a water.  you’ll never forget the countless tests, needles stuck in yoongi’s arm, the many pills swallowed by your partner.  you’ll never forget the day you both received a diagnosis, it was a warm spring day, the sun shining brightly through the window of the hospital room, illumination the face you had fallen in love with years ago.  tears streaming down your cheeks, your husband holding his throat as the doctor explained the situation.  3 months, maximum, if you both decided to go through with chemotherapy. you had shot up, “of course!” you had choked out, your toddler looking up at you from the arm of the man who was being ripped away from you.  yoongi hadn’t said a word until the doctor had left, his pale hand lading on your thigh softly, “i regret none of it you know, getting married unexpectedly, receiving this wonderful gift from you-“ yoongi had cracked, petting his confused daughters head as quiet sobs escaped his mouth.  “i don’t want to leave you, who’s going to remember to turn the stove off?” he whispered, attempting to lighten the mood.  You sobbed loudly, laying your head in your husband’s lap as your hand stroked your daughters small leg.  you’ll never forget one month later, a weak yoongi holding your hand and whispering in your ear, “what i would do to make love to you again.”  he was dying, but his pervy humor still remained, he was still the man you married those short years ago.  You’ll never forget the feeling of him inside of you, his cracked lips against yours as you rocked on his lap.  It was so wrong, it was so dirty, but neither of you minded.  the third month had come too fast, his beautiful raven hair had slowly thinned out, his eyes had sunken deeper in his pale face, but his lips remained as pure and cracked as they had been on the night of your first kiss.  you remember the wednesday, coming up to his room with a bouquet of blue and pink flowers; entering his room and discovering yoongi keeled over, painfully coughing.  you dropped the bouquet on the end of his bed and lifted him up, “y-yoongi what’s wrong?” you whimpered, taking the man’s hand, “soon jigaya, I have to say goodbye soon.” he croaks and you shake your head, “that’s not an option min yoongi, y’know why?”  he looks up and you place his frail hand on your stomach, “we’re having a baby jagi, you have to get batter so we can raise them.” you whimper as the tears spill from your eyes.  you’ll never forget the last night, your daughter snuggled into your lap as you stroke yoongi’s face; his once full cheeks chiseled out, his under eyes dark,  and his once pink lips now as pale as his skin.  his eyes flutter open and he smiles weakly, you both know that this is the last night you’ll ever spend with each other.  neither of you say a word until he quietly coughs and places a hand on your stomach, then your daughters head, “i’m going to go up there and give the big man a piece of my mind for taking me away from the three loves of my life.” he laughs weakly, resulting in your wet eyes rolling one last time, “such a dork min yoongi.”  you place your soft lips on his cheek and he smiles softly, closing his eyes and intertwining his fingers with yours, “i love you min yoongi,” you whisper and close your eyes.  you’ll never forget the next morning, the bright sun seeping through the windows, your eyes fluttering open.  your small daughter lays asleep in your arms, and you turn to yoongi, his chest is no longer riding and falling erratically, his eyes no longer flutter like they did when he would dream, his warm breath no long escaped from his cracked lips.  a sob escaped from your body as you got up, your daughter stirring in your arms, and yoongi’s cold hand falling out of yours. you’ll always remember the oddly warm autumn day, your slight baby bump clad in black, your daughter silently sitting on your hip as you listen to the silent sobs and blowing of noses around you. as you throw the last flower on his casket, you remember; the library of your university was separated into three floors, the top floor, being the quietest, was the place you always found yourself studying in.  your friends had told you that you were crazy, “an elementary school teacher?  can you imagine the number of boogers on everything?” a long forgotten friend had said.  you had shrugged it off, more interested in your dream.  one evening, you were engrossed in an exam packet, the silence suddenly interrupted by the loud crash of a library cart.  as you looked up, most likely to silently curse at the cause, your eyes met a pair of deep chocolate ones.  the boy flushed, silently apologizing to those he interrupted, and proceeded to clean up his mess.  you had shaken your head and continued reading through the prompts, when a chair next to you had been sat in; your shoulder was tapped, and a white piece of notebook paper was passed to you, “my name is min yoongi, yours?”

anonymous asked:

Hey can i ask Gom finding out their crush is a mythical creature? *-*

YOOOOOOO THIS TOOK ME SO LONG. I’m sorry ahh,, I hope you enjoy this an thanks for sending a request in! (note: please specify gender of crush next time ><) I chose from a list of mythical creatures and assigned them to the characters accordingly!! I hope this suffices! 

- Kru

Kise Ryouta (Fairy) -  Kise set the stack of books on the library cart, and turned around to grab some more when he heard a strange buzzing noise. It suddenly stopped, but now he could hear squeaking. Although nearly inaudible, the voice of someone’s disgruntled tone could be heard in the silent library. Kise looked around, puzzled and frightened when no one was close enough to classify the voice as theirs.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something move. He squinted at the tiny thing, and leaned forward to get a better look.

And there you were, struggling under the weight of a book, trying to push it off. Your little wings gladly weren’t damaged, but it was obviously a distressing situation to be in, considering all the profanities that escaped your mouth.

Kise was terrified. “______-chi?!?!?!?!??” he yelped, causing all heads to jerk towards him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and said ‘sorry’ to everyone before returning his attention back to you, “w-what happened here?! How are you so tiny?!”

You groaned and pushed harder, “I’d love to explain, but can you help me here first?”

Kise hesitantly took the book of off you and watched you stand up while dusting off your outfit. A hand on your hip, you gestured for him to come closer. He did so, clutching the book tightly while listening for your words of explanation.

“Long story short, I’m a fairy. I wasn’t always one, but a couple years ago I became one. It’s a transformation thing though. Accept this, please? Don’t tell anyone?”

Kise nodded, his fearful expression turning into one of amusement as he picked you up. You yelled at him and pounded at his hand. “You’re so tiny and bite-size,” he laughs.

“Ah, yes, put me in a kid’s halloween basket, Kise.” You rolled your eyes.

Midorima Shintarou (Ghost) - (I went for the person being possessed by a ghost thing here because I just finished watching Oh My Ghostess and I’m obsessed with that concept haha)

Midorima’s fast reflexes caught you before you fell to the ground. The both of you were having a decent conversation about nearby thrift shops when you admitted to feeling light headed, and eventually lost your balance to gravity. Midorima was flustered, and laid you down onto the couch of the living room, waiting for your eyes to flutter open.

Truth was, you were already outside of her body. You knew that she was weak from the start, and had intentions of leaving a long time ago, but the green-haired basketball player’s sudden interest in you after possessing her caused you to stay. However, it had gone too far. At this rate, you might’ve been stuck in her body forever, which was something you weren’t willing to commit to.

You watched Midorima brush the hair out of the girl’s eyes. He was blushing at his own gestures, and you couldn’t help but laugh. When Midorima flinched at the noise, you covered your mouth.


Midorima slowly turned his head, and saw you sitting on the coffee table. He stood up quickly, immediately in a defensive position, hues wide open.

He can see me?!

“W-Who are you?! How did you get in here?!” he demanded an answer.

You stood on top of the coffee table and waved your hands out in front of you. “W-Wait, Midorima-kun, I’m _______.” You pointed at the girl on the couch.

Midorima grew even more wary to your actions, and watched you get down from the coffee table. Before he could tell you that was bullshit, you slipped on the edge of the table and fell forward. Midorima instinctively reached out to brace your fall, but when you passed right through his arms and down to the hardwood floors, he felt shivers reverberate throughout his body.

“Ah…” You held your head, “that hurt. Why am I still so clumsy even after death?”

“Death…? Wait,” Midorima shook his head and took a step away from you. The light above the both of you flickered as you stood up.

“I’m a ghost, Midorima-kun. I guess it’s…kind of shameful that I’m still here on earth. Although I don’t want to reveal my intentions, I possessed this girl,” you glanced at her on the couch, “but she has a very weak body. I wanted to leave sooner before something like this happened, but…I enjoyed talking to you a little too much.”

Midorima clenched his fists in disbelief. There was no way that ghosts could exist. But he saw you disappear through his arms with his own eyes. “So… the _____ I knew this entire time was you?” Midorima suddenly had flashbacks of when her personality had suddenly changed, and he realized that it was because of your possession over her. He had fallen in love with a ghost.

You nodded with a sad smile on your face. “I’m sorry.”

Aomine Daiki (Ghoul) - It had been almost three days since your sudden transformation into a ghoul. You hated how you felt: the sudden insatiable thirst for human blood was the only thing that occupied your mind. Being scared for hurting anyone close to you, you ran away from home and haven’t been attending school. Although surviving off of pig meat has been sufficient up to now, you ravenously craved the texture of human flesh.

Knees hugged to your chest, crying tears of frustration underneath the dim streetlamp, you felt it wasn’t worth to live here anymore. As far away…as you could. The hunger wasn’t bearable any longer. When a rat that scurried near your feet, you caught it quickly in one snatch. Opening your mouth to devour it, eyes turning red, you heard leaves crunch under someone’s weight. The malignant look in your eyes immediately disappeared when you saw Aomine Daiki.

Aomine’s eyes were wide open, dropping the bags of groceries to the ground in surprise. “Did you just catch that rat with your bare hands?! Holy shit, that’s some skill.” He walked over to you, rubbing his hands together because of the chilly weather.

This wasn’t right. Why was someone awake and on the streets at 2 AM? Usually this time was clear for you to roam around and find prey. You quickly threw the rat away and turned from the boy, tears floating in your eyes.

Aomine scratched his head, and approached you. “What are you doing out here so late, ______?”

“None of your business Aomine. And I could say the same to you,” you sniffled.

Aomine sat down next to you on the curb, and his human scent aroused your hunger. You began to feel dizzy. When he took of his jacket, revealing his bare tan arms, and put it around you, a weird feeling of romance and rancor resonated in your heart.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Eyes turning red, mouth salivating, eyeing down the texture of his skin, you grabbed his arm and brought it up to your mouth. He was surprised, confused, and groaned in pain as you sink your teeth into his flesh. The copper-tasting blood was so delicious that it made you feel grateful for becoming a ghoul only for a split second before Aomine yanked his arm away and looked at you with eyes of fear. “W-What the fuck?!” He stood up and held his arm.

“I-I’m so sorry. Oh my goodness.” You wiped your mouth.

Aomine took a step back when you stood up. His expression broke your heart, and you decided it was best to just look at your feet instead of his eyes. “…I’m a ghoul. Do you get it now? That’s why I’ve been avoided everything lately. It’s more the reason you should stay away from me. Leave, Aomine.” You could smell the fragrance of his dripping blood, which made you so unbearably thirsty.

Aomine couldn’t believe what was going on, but if what you said was true, then it’s more the reason to stay with you. He’s liked you for a very long time, and it worried him sick when you weren’t showing up to school. Something like this wouldn’t scare him away. He stepped towards you. Your eyes didn’t know where to look.

“You biting me totally isn’t cool but,” he looked away, “at least make use of it while you can.”

His arm was held out to you and your tears fell as you gently held onto his wrist, nodding.


Keep reading


Fandom: Sailor Moon/Harry Potter crossover

Rating: PG-13ish, because Minako

Word Count: 6300-ish

Summary: The girls notice that Minako’s being uncharacteristically studious lately…which obviously can only mean that she’s plotting nefarious things. This is the Reinako origin story that leads into oathkeeper-of-tarth The Snitch Thief and the collective HPSM AU universe. Hints of MakoAmi and HaruMichi, of course.

Eh. I tried. Working out these writing kinks is hard. But it was fun, and now I feel hella good for having finished it, so that has to count for something! Obligatory tags for fortythousandth, rocketonthemoon, worldsubmerge


House Key: Gryffindor: Rei, Haruka, Mamoru Hufflepuff: Usagi, Makoto, Naru  Ravenclaw: Ami, Slytherin: Minako, Michiru

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I drew this comic on paper for the first time in a while!  Feels good.  While working on kids books, I was on the digital tablet out of habit.

When you draw comics you get asked a lot about process!  Writing and research are big parts of my job, but here is the on-paper bit.  It is not really fancy, it is a very light pencil and inks on top, because I want to retain the gesture and expression of the first intuitive line.  That’s my strength, so I try to focus on it.  We all have a strength!  I don’t think we all need to be the greatest artists of all time, but if you’re good at a few key things, go for it, and be proud of that.  

I use a regular ole pencil

and a thick paper like bristol 

and one of these see through graph rulers (you can get them wherev)

Copic markers for washes  (you can also get these wherev, any art stores around you really.  Copic is the best kind so they are pricier).

and these brush pens from Jetpens. Every other brush pen (except the Pentel Pocket pen which is also good) drives me insane and most are just BAD.  This one keeps a hard tip with a lot of flexibility so it is best.

I should use brushes and inks but I don’t out of habit!  Before I had a studio, I would make comics in coffee shops and libraries, so I was carting everything around.  I also still like to sit in a ball with the pad of paper on my knees.  I have a desk I should be doing all this on but that is where I like to put my garbage.

Being Friends With A Dream Dorito

I…I don’t- Just, go for it, man. You want Phantom Falls? It’s already killed me, may as well let my headcannons ruin your life too.

Enjoy, or whatever.

“Hey kid!” an unfortunately familiar voice called behind him excitedly, and Danny let his forehead press against the old spines of the books in the Ghost Writer’s library. He really didn’t want to, but he knew if he didn’t Bill would probably make something loud happen, and then they’d both get yelled at.

Danny swiveled on his heel and looked at Bill with the most annoyed expression he could muster. The dream demon didn’t have a mouth, just that stupid bow-tie and his singular eye that, combined with his triangular shape, made him look an awful lot like bad Illuminati symbolism. Knowing Bill, he’d probably created the entire organization.

“Hey Bill,” Danny said in an annoyed monotone, giving him a look that clearly stated how he felt about the dream demon interrupting his shelving for the library. Bill, of course, ignored him completely and actually floated a little closer. It was ridiculous, because he was a two-dimensional yellow triangle about one fourth of Danny’s height, but still managed to be five times more annoying.

Danny could see, out of the corner of his eye, a few ghosts almost turn the corner into the aisle where Danny had been reshelving books, but quickly backtrack when they saw the occupants. Danny wasn’t that feared anymore. A few years floating around the open green skies of the Ghost Zone and establishing something of a Justice System and basic society that didn’t rely on Walker, his reputation of being ‘dangerously powerful’ was overshadowed by his reputation of being helpful. It was Bill they were avoiding.

The dream demon was inarguably insane, maybe from all the years of immortality, twisted from a normal ghost into a frightening demon that could enter people’s dreams and even make people fall asleep (the obvious similarity to Nocturne wasn’t to be mentioned unless you wanted to get ripped apart by both of them at the same time). For whatever reason, the annoying demon had chosen Danny as his new BFF as soon as he heard that he had died, and often brought screaming candy and other magic trinkets to Danny like a cat delivering dead mice to it’s master.

It hadn’t taken Danny long to realize that Bill wasn’t much different from a cat. Well, obviously he was, he was once a human consciousness and he did terrible things, that he wouldn’t hesitate to tell Danny stories about, probably in hopes of driving Danny just as insane as himself. But Bill was like a cat in many ways too. He acted vain and proud (and nasty) to all except a few chosen, and once you showed him the correct amount of attention he started bringing your things and giving you attention as well, though still sometimes (all the time, really) acting like he was so much better then you.

Whenever Danny had tried to ask Bill why, out of all people, Bill had chosen to be friends with him, the dream demon deigned not to answer, and avoiding him for a while, probably tormenting poor confused humans in their dreams, so Danny figured it was best not to ask. He just kinda went with it, and let Bill bother him as much as possible. In the earlier days, once Danny realized what Bill did in his down time, he actively sought him out, because he figured it was better than Bill twisting the dreams of mortals for his own amusement, and probably scarring those people forever (and, if the stories were to believed, causing more than the occasional suicide or homicide). Now, he knew he couldn’t spend all his time with Bill because it would literally drive him insane.

“Phantom!” Bill squealed in a delighted voice. Well, as close to a delighted voice or a squeal with his sleazy salesman voice and no face. “Hey buddy! How have you been?”

“Fantastic,” Danny repeated, in the same monotone as earlier. He turned back to his shelving. After a moment of pause, Danny sighed internally, because he knew exactly what Bill was waiting for. “You?” he asked in a tired voice, rubbing his temple as he placed an old, leather-bound book by Franco Jrofhoughdnqueasydoe (which made Danny kinda Jrofhoughdnqueasydoe, just reading the name, if you get it. Ha.)

“I’ve got a great story this time!” Bill exclaimed as Danny turned back to the library cart. He inhaled deeply to get himself ready for the tales of insanity about to be unleashed on him, and grabbed another book.

“Oh?” Danny asked, feigning interest as he shoved Franco Jrofhoughdnqueasydoe over for Vanessa Jrniaouckkh’s study about prism’s and ectoplasm.

“You wouldn’t believe it kid!” Bill exclaimed, bobbing gently next to Danny’s head. Danny peeked out of the corner of his eyes at him, and couldn’t help a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Sure, Bill was a psychopath, but there was no stopping him, really, and he was kind of cute sometimes. Though Danny didn’t doubt if he ever said that sentence aloud he’s be stuck overshadowing a Tarantula for the rest of his immortal life (he’d heard Arachnaphobia was a bitch when stuck as a spider yourself).

“Guess!” Bill challenged him playfully. Danny tilted his head slightly at the dream demon and cocked an eyebrow. They stood like that for a while, staring at each other, neither one having to blink or breath, before Danny sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation and reached for another book.

“Okay, let me think,” he muttered sarcastically, making sure not to take out any of his frustration of the books he was shelving, fearing the Ghost Writer’s wrath. “It somehow relates to Dipper Pines.”

“How did you know?” Bill whines pitifully, and Danny rolls his eyes again, before turning to look Bill in the eyes.

“Lately,” Danny began, leaning his hip against the cart of books. “It’s all about 'The Pines Family’, but specifically Dipper.” Danny put up a hand to his chest and acted offended. “I’m beginning to think I’m being replaced.”

“Never!” Bill exclaimed, a little too loudly, and Danny winced for a moment, expected to be shushed, before remembering that this was Bill he was talking about here. Even Ghost Writer was afraid of him, after Bill had shifted reality so he’d been stuck in a tiny room with orange walls for almost a week. (Which would have been disproportionately hilarious except for the fact that GW was apparently paralyzingly claustrophobic. Something to do with how he died, and everybody knows you don’t bring that stuff up.)

“Okay, well, what was the story, then,” Danny asks, tilting his head a little to the side to demonstrate curiosity as he softly sets another book in it’s place.
Bill bobs up and down a bit faster in what Danny assumes is excitement before beginning his story. “So, I did tell you about how Pine Tree, Shooting Star, Question Mark, and Ice Bag wandering into the author’s secret bunker and Pine Tree actually chopped into his 'secret’ crush’s stomach with as ax on a hunch, right?”

“You mean Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and Wendy, right?” Danny asks from above Bill, having floated off the ground to set a book on the highest shelf. “I don’t really get what is up with you and the nicknames.”

“Predestined fate,” Bill replies, sounding the furthest from ecstatic that he’s gotten since he arrived here. Almost bored. “Anyway, the laptop is password set, right? Ha, best irony ever, really, they set it to protect themselves but they ended up ruining everything.”

Danny nodded vaguely. He was kinda out of it when Bill had told him who the mysterious 'Author’ was, so he didn’t really remember who it was. Somebody called Fiddleford? Stanley? Stanford? 2/3 chance it ended in ’-ford’, at least. Though, at the same time, 2/3 change it started with 'Stan-’. Who knew, really?

“Anyway, so Pine Tree immediately starts obsessing over the laptop, right?” Bill continues energetically. Danny mumbles something to let Bill know he’s listening as he stares incredulously at the keysmash of a name “Gdjweblrsifuoyralywlkobdsnewu”, which he couldn’t pronounce in his head if he tried, and he certainly wasn’t trying. He really was listening, though. The Pines Family had drawn him in, and know he was concerned for the safety of all of them (and the personal hygiene of poor Dipper, if he was to believe all of Bill’s stories.)

“Pine Tree’s going crazy trying to figure this thing out, and Shooting Star goes off and finds herself a new crush. Very handsome, name was Gabe, obsessed with puppets, though. Shooting Star is all over this guy, even though she promised Pine Tree that she would help him with the laptop thing. Seems to happen a lot with those two.”

Danny squints at the books he’s holding. “Gud-. Gud-juh-web…”
Bill ignores his efforts and continues with his story. “So, Shooting Star gets so caught up with this guy that she completely forgets about what Pine Tree’s doing, and when he confronts her, she guilt trips him into helping her. Though, admittedly, she doesn’t realize how important all of this is yet, or what would happen if she had helped. Her eccentric attitude would have figured it out of the third try! To think they were so close! Thank goodness for my quick thinking, right Phantom?”

Danny is frowning down at the book now. “Gud-juh-web-lars-if-oyra? Ayra? Oira?”

“Of course,” Bill preens. “I did an awesome job with that boy coming in. Just some dream suggestion, on my part, and I averted a disaster!”

“Gud-juh-web-lars-if-oira-alley…” Danny is squinting at the book in his hand like it’s worse than Skulker, but Bill just pats his back with a tiny hand and keeps on.

“Anyway, Pine Tree spends the week making lots and lots of sock puppet’s with his sister, while squeezing in as many passwords onto the computer as possible. He’s going about it logically, though, common words or phrases, pet names. He wouldn’t guess the right password unless he got a hint, right?”
“Oira-alley-wilk-ob-desen…” Danny mutters under his breath.

“With all these puppet’s around, of course I see my opportunity!” Bill shouted excitedly. “So, I just need to add a little desperation with Pine Tree to really seal the deal, right? SO I waited until he blinked next and, boom, instant sleep.”
“It’s Gud-juh-web-lars-if-oira-alley-wilk-ob-desen-ew-wu!” Danny exclaims happily.

“Congratulations,” Bill cheered sarcastically. Danny frowned at him, but then made a 'continue’ motion with his hands before turning to face away from Bill.

Anyway,” Bill says pointedly. “Pine Tree’s dreaming, and I make it look like the laptop’s had enough, and it’ll destroy it’s hard drive if Pine Tree doesn’t enter the correct password in the next five minutes. So I say I’ll give him a hint, right, in exchange for a puppet. Pine Tree, being the smart cookie he is, is initially suspicious, but, I mean, he’s twelve, so it doesn’t take too much convincing. He thinks I’m talking about one of the Sock Puppets.”

Danny turned around, floating about three centimeters off the ground, and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you mean?” he asks suspiciously.

“Yeesh kid!” Bill exclaims, rolling his eye and slinging an arm over Danny’s shoulder. “You act like you don’t know what us demons can do.”
“I’m not a demon,” Danny hissed angrily, pushing Bill away from him and snatching another book.

“Touchy subject,” Bill mumbled, floating back neat Danny’s head. “Anyway, what I really meant was an actual puppet!” Danny stares at him blankly, and Bill would be almost fooled, if it wasn’t for the slight narrowing of his eyes.
“So the kid shakes my hand, and the usual stuff happens. Flickering lights, maniacal laughter, turquoise fire. Pine Tree was too naive to realize I meant his body as a puppet!” Danny’s eyes widened, and then narrowed as he glared at Bill. Was it his imagination or did the dream demon flinch a bit? Must have been his imagination, because Bill returns to his cocky-suave self in less than a millisecond.

“It’s been centuries since I last inhabited a body!” Bill drawls. He’s got Danny’s full attention now. “I forgot how it felt to feel. Pain is hilarious.”

“Oh yes,” Danny says sarcastically. “Ha. Ha. I love experiencing pain. So refreshing.”

“I know!” Bill agrees full-heartedly, seemingly missing the sarcasm. “Pine Tree’s body is so weirdly small. It felt hilarious slapping myself. But it wasn’t enough, even though his body kind of felt like lead.” Danny’s eyes narrowed again. “So I threw myself down the stairs!” Bill sang.

“WHAT?!” Danny shouted, before flinching in on himself. “What?!” he whisper-yelled that time. “You threw a twelve-year-old boy’s body down the stairs! Are you crazy?” A pause. “Yeah, I know you are,” Danny mutters ruefully, looking back to the library cart and rifling through the books to find the nearest author to the section of the library where they were.

“So, anyway, the kid is now a spirit. Not a ghost, though he kept calling himself that, so I let him-” Bill was interrupted.

“You know what?” Danny said, turning back to Bill. “No. I don’t want to hear this story. I’m going to assume that you decided to do the right thing, even though that’s very unlikely, and left the poor kid and his family alone. I don’t want to hear the story about how a raging psychopath overtook the body of a preteen and probably got him run over by a semi or something! Try catching me in a better mood later, or at least someplace where I can yell at you without feeling guilty!”

With that, Danny grabbed the stupid library cart and stormed to the next aisle, leaving a very conflicted dream dorito floating in midair.

My jokes are terrible. This fic is terrible. Everything is terrible. I have a raging headache and it stopped raining :(.

Until next time, yada yada.

Context: I DM a REALLY small group. I only have two player characters- a halfling Fighter and a Dragonborne Warlord, traveling with their NPC Warlock. They needed a cart to get from one town to another in time for a tournament. Along their way, they found a traveling library cart.

Me, as NPC: What can I help you with?

Warlord: We need your cart.

Me: Well, we’d be happy to give you a ride! But I’m afraid we need this cart.


Warlord: Okay but… you can’t.

Me: And why not? We’ll give you a ride!

Warlord: There are…. book… thieves. In… the town.

Me, laughing: Oh no!!

Warlord: They are targeting people who own books. 

IM5 Preference : You're A Geek


Theater Geek. Music Nerd. Total Wanna Be. Those were just a few of the names the other kids in your grade would shout at you as you quickly made your way to the auditorium for auditions. You were auditioning for a part in the play your school was putting on, Romeo and Juliet. They had cast all the parts in the play already, except for Romeo and Juliet. You had made the callbacks to your surprise, and were extremely excited. You didn’t know who your competition was, just that you were going to have to be on your A game if you wanted this part.

After rehearsing your part, it was your turn to go on stage. “We need (Y/N) and Cole on stage please!” The director shouted. You were about to make your way to the stage, when you were stopped by someone. That someone happened to be Abigail Parker, aka the most popular girl in your grade. “You really think that you’re going to get the part as Juliet? Everyone knows that Cole and I were meant to be on that stage. That finale kiss, is meant to be mine.” She growled, pressing you up against the stage. “I-I must go.” You stuttered nervously, trying to push past her, but she stood firm like a wall. 

“Abigail, let her go.” A deep voice boomed from beside us. We both turned in shock to see Cole standing there, his arms folded. “Oh Cole! I was just- just helping her with her parts that’ s all.” Abigail giggled nervously, twirling her hair. Cole ignored her completely, grabbing your hand, and leading you to the stage. “Ready to rehearse?” Cole smiled, handing you your script.

A few minutes later, the two of you were into the last scenes of the play, and the upcoming kiss was about to happen. You weren’t sure if the two of you actually had to rehearse the kiss, but your nerves wouldn’t let you ask such a ridiculous question. Cole read out his last line, before  slowly leaning in, and softly kissing your lips. Your heart beat increased as your lips moved in sync with his. “Ahem.” You heard the director choke out, as the two of you pulled away, your faces bright red. 

“That’s all for today, we’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Mr.Romeo and Ms.Juliet.” The director grinned, before exiting the auditorium. “Wait, does this mean I got the part?” You asked Cole. He nodded his head slowly, a huge smile on his face. “Nice kiss by the way. ” He blushed, before leaving center stage quickly. 


As much as you hated to admit it, when it came to Marvel movies, you were the biggest geek there is. You had seen every movie in existence, from Iron Man to Guardians of the Galaxy, you loved it all. Sadly, Dana wasn’t as motivated as you. He would watch the movie with you, but after talking about it for a while, you could he would get bored, and even worse, annoyed. After a while, you just stopped bringing the topic up, and every thing seemed to be going well. You would sneak out and watch the movies yourself, telling Dana you had work.

A few weeks later, you were chilling at Dana’s house, playing on his laptop as he worked in his personal gym. You scrolled down your Tumblr feed slowly, until you stopped on a particular post. You gasped loudly as you read the title. Comic Con. You had never been to Comic Con, even though you were badly dying too. You never even thought about mentioning it to Dana, too afraid he would make fun of you, or think of you as a geek. “What is it?” Dana asked. “Um, nothing.” You bit your lip nervously as you read the details thoroughly.

“What are you reading so intensely?” He questioned again, placing down his weights, heading over to you.“ Nothing.” You stuttered nervously, frantically trying to close the screen, but of course it decided to freeze on you. “Let me seee.” Dana whined, trying to poke his head around the screen. You tried to fight him off, but him being stronger, he pulled the laptop from your grasp, examining the screen. “Comic Con?” He asked questionably. “It’s nothing Dana, just something my screen got stuck on.” You lied, trying to brush it off casually. 

“This is that Marvel stuff you life right, Iron Guy or something?” He asked, reading through the post. “Iron Man.” you mumbled quietly to yourself. “So, you don’t want to go to this thing?” Dana asked, looking straight at you. “Of course not, it’s for nerds.” You sighed, looking down at the floor. “Well then, I don’t know what I’m going to do with these two tickets to Comic Con for next week. ” He stated with a smirk, pulling the tickets out of his pocket. “You have tickets?!” You exclaimed, grabbing the ticket from him.

“Of course I do, you love this stuff, even if you try to hide it.” He smiled. “Dana, this is amazing! But why two?” You asked him. He just smiled. “You think I’m going to let CatWoman go without Batman?” He smiled, posing in front of you. “Babe, I am not going as CatWoman.” You replied. He just laughed, “A guy can dream, can’t he?”


You slowly pushed the library cart down the aisles, listening to the heavy silence of the library. You came here every day during your free period just to get away. After a while, the librarian noticed your frequent visits, and made you their personal assistant. You loved every second of it. You got to spend time with a bunch of books, and you even got school credit for it. 

You peeked around the aisles and saw him. Him. The boy who came here almost as often as you. He was tall, and ridiculously handsome. He would stroll up and down the halls, humming different tunes to himself, and you would just listen in awe. A few times, he caught you watching, but you never had enough guts to say anything to him. 

You could hear his soothing voice again, but to avoid embarrassment, you stayed in your aisle, carefully putting books away. You slowly put the books away, until you reached the highest shelf. You weren’t very tall, so  you had to reach on your tippy toes to get to the top shelf. You slipped a bit, accidentally pushing the books tot he other side of the self, making them fall on the boy across from you.

“Ow!” He shouted. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You shouted, rushing over to pick up the books. “It’s alright, I should pay attention where I’m standing.” He smiled. You just nodded, staring at his beautiful bright white smile. The two of you quickly put the books away in order, glancing at each other nervously every few seconds. You could see his cheeks turn red every time he smiled at you. 

A few books were left, and the two of you accidentally reached for the same book at the same time, causing your hands to graze each other. “Sorry.” He mumbled nervously, pulling his hand away. “No no, it’s okay.” you smiled, before putting the book away. The books were all finished, and he was about to turn away, before you managed to get the courage to talk to him. “You’re a great singer.” You called out. He blushed.

“Oh, you heard that?” You nodded with a smile. “I wish I could sing like that, you sound amazing.” He opened his mouth as if he were ready to answer, but stayed quiet. “Maybe, uh, I mean, if you want, we could, I mean, I could, you know, teach you?” He replied nervously. You grinned from ear to ear, nodded your up and down quickly, about ready to squeal. “That would be amazing.”


“(Y/N), you have a new student today!” Your friend shouted as she entered the classroom. “Who?” You responded, quickly scribbling down notes. “I heard that you’re going to be tutoring David Scarzone today!” She squealed happily, fanning herself. You groaned internally, not sure what all the excitement was about. “That stubborn quarterback every girl in school is in love with?” You mocked viciously, as your friend just pouted. “He’s hot,alright? Give him a chance.” You just rolled your eyes, in no way convinced.

The end of the day came, and you sat in the library, for Mr.Perfection to come. “Are you, um, (Y/N)?” David asked, approaching your table. “Yep, have a seat.” You sighed, as he pulled out the chair, carefully sitting down. “So, what do you need help in?” You asked, twirling your pencil in between your hands. He carefully pulled out a test from his folder, handing it to you. “Math.” He slide the paper across the table, exposing the large F, scribbled on in bright red pen. “Yikes, lets get to work.”

About an hour later, the two of you were butting heads, at each others  throats. You kept instructing him on what problem to do, but he kept getting distracted by asking you questions about your day, or how your classes were, which was completely off task. “I give up!” You shouted, which was answered by a shush from the librarian. “You’re so ignorant! Not even listening to a word I’ve been saying. I’m trying to help you, but you won’t stop asking me these dumb questions!” You ranted. He looked a bit shocked, then just hung his head. 

“I didn’t mean to make you mad, I just wanted to get to know you.” He gulped nervously. You sighed to yourself, before noticing what he had said. “Wait, you wanted to get to know me, so you failed this test?” You asked. “Oh no, I seriously suck in math, but it helped that you were my tutor. I’ll just go.” He replied, quickly picking his things. The school’s hottest football player, wanting to talk to me? “Wait, David!” You shouted, “We can try this again if you want, someone less quiet. Say, my place?” “Sure! I mean, that’s cool.” He smiled brightly, as you handed him your address and number, ready to talk to him later.


“I swear to God, he’s staring directly at you!” Your friend hissed from across the lunch table. “No he’s not, why would he?” You scoffed, pushing your glasses up to the bridge of your nose as you continued to read your book. “I’m not even kidding, he’s just gazing over here, staring at you.” She replied, emphasize on the you. You rolled your eyes, ignoring her, before you felt a dark shadow cast over your shoulder.

“Hey.” A low voice whispered. You turned to see, the infamous Gabe. He was the quiet boy at your school. Almost always dressed in black, but at the same time, he had a great amount of style. “H-hi.” You stuttered, barely able to speak. “Can I sit?” He asked politely. You nodded vigorously, motioning to the seat in front of you. 

He sat down slowly, gazing over your shoulder at the book in your hand. “What are you reading?” “It’s, um, a mystery. Dark Secrets.” You replied slowly. “What’s it about?” “A girl, who’s grandmother is going psychotic, because of a murder that had happened, years ago, and she has to solve it.” You explained, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He gave you a slight grin, “Cool.” His eyes slowly gazed down to your hands, then to the silver ring that laid on your finger. 

“Is that a Vampire Diaries ring?” He asked, with a slight gasp. “Yeah, it’s embarrassing.” You covered the ring with your other hand. He quickly pushed it away, placing his hand next to yours. “I have the same one! You watch the show?” His face beamed with excitement, which was weird, since all he usually did was frown. “Y-yeah.” You stuttered, but this time with a smile.

“I’m going to watch the marathon tomorrow night, how about you?” He asked, playing with his ring. “Yeah, probably.” You nodded with a smile. The lunch bell rang, telling everyone to exit and leave for their 4th period. You grabbed your bag and your book quickly, barely escaping Gabe. “Maybe, we could watch it together, say at my house?” He suggested, grabbing your hand softly. “Sure, I’d like that.” You said with a slight giggle, as you both traded numbers.


Probably the worst preference’s I’ve wrote lately, but i really wanted to get these out since it was highly requested!

I hope you guys like it, please tell me if you do right here!