Walk in

You have green hair therefore probably sexually active and hence degenerate liberal.

Walk away virtuously with my virginity and soul in tact

I wouldn't do anything because she's reading. What, you think that a girl reading is an invitation for you to strike up a conversation or hit on her?

>person in a hiding spot reading alone

If I've read the book and enjoyed it, ask her if she's enjoying it. Maybe ask where she's at in the story. Gauge her reaction and determine if she is open to conversation.

If I haven't read it, leave her alone. Maaaaybe ask her about the book if I've heard of it, but probably not.

put my penis in her mouth

Kick the book out of her hand. Stare down at her for several moments...then slowly undo my belt produce my penis.

Pretty good chance of getting arrested, but there's an off chance this is her fantasy.

turn into an infinitely differentiable mapping of a space to itself

>green hair
>earbuds in while reading
>torn jeans

I would bet money she has tattoos and talks to anyone within earshot of the patriarchy.

So I'd let her in on the well known fact that H.P. was a racist in addition to being a white male and watch the triggering commence.

>teehee you're so funny user!

She's a white supremacist though, so I don't think she'll be that triggered

>>earbuds in while reading
What do you expect her to listen with?

I felt the wooden floor begin to give even as the creaking of the boards reached my ears. The newness of the room that I had stepped into was beginning to yield to age. Floor boards showed the light tarnish of age, and didn't shine with the sort of varnish that coated the new and fashionable homes that had gone up in recent years, and small gaps between them suggested that the construction had relied upon craft and care than the value of the materials used thereof. For this reason and several others I wondered at the social status of the occupants. Perhaps someone with plain tastes who could afford to fix the damage periodically, perhaps the place had been well taken care of but outdated such measures of preservation, or perhaps the entire undertaken had been done in ignorance by someone seeking to save a few dollars where they ought to have spent.

It was within the enigma of this room that I first glimpsed the witch reading her eldritch tome. She sat cross legged, in the style of the red indians that had once haunted these parts. Her leggings looked new, but were still torn. Her boots were blacked but well worn along the bottoms. The most queer thing about the witch were the stripes of cyan dyed into her hair. I couldn't tell if this was some badge of membership into an occult sect or some mark of nonconformity within her own social strata.

What this peculiar woman of unknown status who sat in this peculiar room of confusing demarcation held in her hands I recognized immediately though: it was an eldritch tome of some great potency dating back to the turn of the century. It was reputed to hold most blasphemous rites detailed within, the stuff of which the more prudish sort of academic warded off with litanies like "purple prose", yet the thing made its rounds in circles that found such hellfire practices fascinating.

The young witch rolled her eyes at my presence, and I began to feel my sanity slipping as I went mad with fright.

She probably fantasizes about black men as well. We're simply better off without her

Id stand there until she accidentaly glances and pretend im reading something else like malazan books or something, then smile at her in that instant and gauge the chance of success from that.

It does help im a lovecraft whore.

Bravo

Get her a chair

yeah

Recite that Lovecraft poem about the origins of the nigger race from memory.

What happend next?

"+18 yo post-prime sluts are worthless"

L M A O
M
A
O

I wrote a series of similarly styled short stories and will now publish them as a short story anthology. As is tradition.

KMS, KYS myself, and JDIMSA all in the same time.