As a library worker, there’s something I want to say to you.
You do not have to apologize for the books you choose to read.
At all. To anyone. You owe nobody any explanations; you need no excuse or “good reason” to be reading the book.
You do not have to be ashamed for wanting to read “bad” books. You wanna read Twilight? We got Twilight. Need a banal, cookie-cutter-plot mystery or thriller?Those are always fun. Our regulars check them out by the towering stack. Ask Betty for recommendations; she’s read them all. 50 Shades of Oh Fucking No? We’ve got it, we even got it in large print. Have fun. Check out the rest of our porn too. Oh, and the sex manuals are a MUST if you want to “experiment” yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask; they’re here for a reason.
Want to read a book written by a huge asshole everyone hates and agree was a monster? Yeah, we have those. No, we don’t think you’re an asshole for wanting to know what was actually written in there, or judging things for yourself.
You are not too old for Diary of a Wimpy Kid, The Babysitter’s Club, or Captain Underpants. You are not too young for Sherlock Holmes. There’s nothing wrong with a boy reading The Princess Academy or Sweet Valley High. There’s nothing wrong with a girl being into The Hardy Boys or Artemis Fowl instead.
You do not have to pull the shame face and offer me an excuse when you check out your books. I don’t care if I got so angry at that book I threw it against a wall when I read it: you have the right to read it, and enjoy it if it’s enjoyable for you. THAT’S WHY THE LIBRARY HAS IT IN THE FIRST PLACE. If we only stocked pure, unproblematic literature everyone approved of, by authors of unquestionable virtue, we wouldn’t have any books at all. Or music. Or movies. It would be utterly fucking boring. And it certainly wouldn’t be a library.
These are all important facts.
Same goes for if you’re wanting to buy a book in a bookshop.
Do not be embarrassed about your taste in books, ever.
(I wish I’d understood this better myself as a teenaged boy xD)
I will cheerfully battle Amazon/Gladiator style for your intellectual freedom. I have literally had a 7-year-old ask me “where are the books on dead bodies?” and my first question was “what sort of dead bodies? Fact or fiction? Are you lookie for books about zombies? Holocaust victims? CSI forensic books? Mummies? Autopsy manuals? Murder victims? Art books? War casualties? My job is not to censor what you read; my job is to find you the information you are seeking! I’ve discussed Cassandra Clair of the HP Fandom with a young man in a wheelchair, tsunami science with young girls, suggested fairy books to a father who was looking for something sweet that he could read to his son, and more/
I’m out on a new road in search for a land with no name, And I never look back ‘cause I’m walking through sunshine and rain. And I’m a man who has lived in the tombs and who’s broken thechain.
Amen! Amen!
I was blind but now I see. What if God is not for me?! And I know it’s time to go. I’ve been used and I’ve been played, I’d been spied on and betrayed. And I know it’s time to go.
Watch out! And I feel the pain, Watch out! I’m alive again, The past is gone for good, It’s time to say:
Amen! Amen!
Amen! Amen!
At last I believe I’ll be found In a silence of my nights. I can hear a distant voice: Someone out there is calling my name!
Watch out! I’m not afraid, Watch out! I’m beyond the dread. It’s time to turn my page and love again, Watch out! I can feel the pain, Watch out! And cry again. I’m leaving all my shadows behind.
So my cat Lydia likes paper right. If I open my mail on my bed, she’s right there, walking on it, listening to it crinkle under her toes, and then laying right down. Even if I leave paper on the floor, on carpet or tile or hardwood, she’s there, curling up, standing on it, happy as can be.
And like many of my fellow fanfiction addicts, I don’t read a lot of print books, but I recently borrowed a novel that sounded a m a z i n g and I wanted to get it back to my coworker on Monday. It was going pretty well Saturday afternoon until
Every time I put this book down, whether open or closed or page up or down, she was there. Happy as can be. And so freaking cute that I didn’t want to move her, which meant I was not going to finish it.
So finally, in protest and so I could actually finish this book, I gave her another one
For the first time in nearly a hundred years, the King’s only son had just presented as an omega. The queen fainted, dead on her feet, the butler helping her to a fainting couch as the King was assured that the queen still had plenty of child bearing years left to produce a legitimate male heir.
The next pregnancy took several years later than was planned, though once the queen was with child the impending birth was heralded as an answer to prayers. The castle was devoted entirely to ensuring the queen gave birth. The king’s son turned twelve that season and was ostracized by his classification even in his own household, which caused him to retreat into solitude.
When the queen gave birth to a girl there were murmurs, though it was mentioned that an alpha female could inherit the throne. It was not common, though it was done.
Mischa was an alpha, presenting at ten in Hannibal’s twenty-second year celebration which again kept the prince forgotten.
The following winter, amidst heavy snowfall, the royal palace was attacked and the sole survivor was the only royal no one wanted to acknowledge: the omega.
But there was no other heir, the laws demanded a legitimate Lecter heir through birth, so Hannibal was named King Consort and a council was appointed to figure out how to obtain an alpha king and the balls began. Year after year, ball after ball, the prince never was accepting of a single alpha. Kings, queens, princes, princesses, and commoners alike were invited but none were able to catch Hannibal’s attention.
Not until a rival country stole the King Consort in the night.
The blackguard King Verger had decided he would bed the notoriously fickle omega himself to take over both lands.
Hannibal fought tooth and nail to keep from being assaulted and barely managed to escape with his life running into the woods only to loose consciousness out barely half way through the forest.
When Hannibal woke he smelled the most intoxicating smell and moaned, “Alpha.”
He felt a hand on his forehead, a cooling touch and comforting in its gentleness. “No, I’m not a…”
Hannibal opened his eyes and looked into a crystal clear blue gaze, the young man sat on the edge of a makeshift cot looking quite worried for him. He took a deep breath, the scent fainter now.
“You have not yet presented.”
The young man bristled, taking a cloth from by the bed and reaching out to wipe his brow.
“Of course I have.”
Hannibal could see the blush in the young man’s cheeks. “You do not smell as strong as you should, that is how I know.”
The young man ignored his observation and moved to stand but Hannibal grabbed his arm.
“Am I still in Merlia?”
“Yes.”
Hannibal stiffened. “Your king…”
The angry look in the young man’s eyes gave Hannibal pause.
“That man is NOT my king.”
The tension left Hannibal at once, his body growing more comfortable around this stranger knowing they shared a common enemy.
“Who is?”
The young man took away the cloth, and looked away as he murmured, “The king is dead,” he closed his eyes, “His family slaughtered in the invasion and Mason got away with usurping the throne through fear.”
Hannibal knew Verger had taken the throne and done away with any surviving heirs to it, but hearing it coming from this young man gave him pause.
“You knew them? The royals?”
There was a sad smile when the young man looked at him again. “Yes, we were close.”
“I am sad to say I have never had the pleasure.”
The young man looked at him, “The King was fair and strong, and the Queen was beautiful in her gentleness.”
He then stood up and left Hannibal alone most of the evening except to bring thin broth that warmed the omega down to his bones.
When they parted the last words Hannibal heard were, “Sleep well,” and the King Consort did until a nightmare wearing King Mason’s face woke him abruptly.
Fear, cold and curdling in his belly at the memory made him shiver. The touch to his hand should have startled but Hannibal had smelled the ready to present alpha coming even before he reached out to comfort.
“Are you all right?”
Hannibal grabbed hold and squeezed, nails digging into the young man’s hand.
“I bit him,” he growled, “tore into the side of his face and think perhaps he may have lost an ear.”
A chuckle came as his young savior sat down on the edge of the bed, the hand in his settling now. “I hope you did,” he sighed, “My name is Will.”
The move from Denmark had done nothing for Lucas’s mood. He still found himself shying away from most contact, preferring a detached sort of existence even at his place of employment. The scent blockers didn’t do much but they kept omegas from coming up to him, the alpha hiding as a beta.
He didn’t trust anyone, not really, and spent evenings alone calling Marcus every other day to see how his son was faring.
Marcus was on a visit when he spotted the ad hanging off the side of a bulletin board on their way from the grocery.
Beginner Art Classes. Free first lesson! Call Aiden at 777-564-3498
Lucas could remember playing at drawing in his youth, mostly animals and occasionally his friends in silly situations.
The Lecter household’s biological shift is tearing them apart.
Hannibal Lecter’s wife died of “natural causes” only a few short months from when Will Graham is appointed their temporary omega. He has never been a live in omega before, the idea of taking someone’s place in that way seems abhorrent to him but one interview and the agency says he is a natural despite the problem of his “unstable nature” at his last employer.
He meets with Dr. Lecter in his home, his daughter Abigail having been kept apart from the process. The two of them in a room together for only a few minutes when Will is scented the first time, the gentle hand caress making him whimper as it’s taken away just as quickly.
The alpha seems embarrassed, angry, and asks him to leave immediately despite will just having gotten there.
Will is angry, refuses to leave, and braces for attack when the alpha stops. He asks Will to sit down and the real interview seems to begin. They get along well, discuss Will’s duties if he’s chosen which consist of child care, scenting both he and his young daughter, and the occasional scenting sessions alone just the two of them. Will’s heats are discussed, planned for, and if Will so chooses to ask for Hannibal’s help he offers it.
He leaves and is asked back almost the next morning, given double the salary discussed and the length of his temporary stay is extended even before it begins.
One year instead of the standard six months.
The contract will end then since most omegaless households stabilize in six months Will does not expect complications.
He does not expect to find out the secrets of the Lecter household, and definitely does not expect to want to stay.
Will paused at the door, hand on the doorknob when he spoke.
“I…I think my heat is going to be a longer one this time.”
He can always feel Hannibal’s breath on his neck, though the alpha is far across the bedroom. “Yes, it does indeed seem to be…strong.”
Will turns, eyes lighting at the sight of the alpha. “I want you,” he stutters, taking a deep breath, “I want you to help me through it.”
Mostly reblogs and random words 