heroesverbaldoodles

[heroesverbaldoodles]

I know no one ever looks at this, but I figured I’d just say it here because I didn’t want to say it anywhere else.

So I’m not doing nano this year, but I am trying to write some every day, and I guess my brain has traveled back to the early 2010s along with everything else on this hellsite because I’m writing mcu lokiXofc fic featuring a character I used to roleplay on omegle and like... I’m actually enjoying it a lot.  Like, I might actually post this shit.  I keep coming up with ideas and it’s really fun.

[heroesverbaldoodles]

Chrom: Welcome to Ylisse, King Claude!

Claude: Why thank you.

Robin: I heard you were the son of Duke Reigen, why aren’t you in Fodlan?

Claude: The entire continent has been unified under one ruler now. I left to be King of Almyra.

Chrom: I’m sorry, could you repeat that?

Claude: I left a unified Fodlan to one person.

*Chrom and Robin look at each other*

Claude: What’s that look?

Chrom: Did the continent have wildly different nations?

Claude: Yep.

Robin: And did they unify in a campaign regarding religion?

Claude: Absolutely!

Chrom: And did the unifying ruler have green hair?

Claude: Oddly specific, but yes.

Chrom: Umm... I advise that you might wanna prep your country in the next few generations.

Claude: Why’s that?

Robin: Because in about 100 years, that thing is going to collapse and then reunify under a militaristic strong man who is going to want to expand outside their borders. Trust us, we know.

[heroesverbaldoodles]

the other night i tried to make a curry and i got chilli burns all over my face, so i thought to myself ‘hang on, doesn’t milk soothe chilli burns? it does’ and i couldn’t google because i couldn’t see so i just had to blindly feel my way to the fridge and pour out a bowl of milk, and then plant my face in the bowl of milk, anyway at that point the rice cooker went off and triggered a power surge which turned my electricity off, which i didn’t notice at first because i had my face in a bowl of milk and when i did emerge from the dairy prison i thought i had gone blind with chilli burns. so no i don’t really cook much.

[heroesverbaldoodles]

The original ninja turtle

[heroesverbaldoodles]

I had a neutral good bus driver in middle school.  Old retired guy, pretty nice, would give you a couple minutes to get out (and even honk the horn in case you were waiting inside and didn’t notice-Upstate New York winters are cold af) and best of all, handed out candy on Fridays.  I taught myself how to open Starbursts in my mouth on that bus.  Still one of my favorite party tricks.

bus drivers who re-open their doors when they see someone running towards the stop are neutral good. any other kind of bus driver is automatically lawful evil

[heroesverbaldoodles]

Dialects, my dude.

if you’re american and coming to australia, I’m gonna go ahead and say that you should be 100 percent way more worried about being king hit by a dude named “dane” in a bintang singlet than any fucking spiders that exist here

[heroesverbaldoodles]

So now that voting’s over and the info is public, I’m gonna go ahead an link to my entry for The Imperial Library’s fanfiction contest.  I reverse-engineered a dialect for this thing (which I might do more of in the future, it was pretty fun) and ended up writing the most imperialist thing I’ve ever created in my life.

[heroesverbaldoodles]

Okay, I’m a librarian and I literally made a sideblog just for this.  Two notes: First, I’m using this to correct some misconceptions about the discard process (irt the type of books that are pulled, what happens to them, etc).  Second, all the books mentioned are real and books that either I or other librarians have pulled from shelves and discarded.

It’s your last walkthrough of the day.  One more stroll through the shelves, adjusting for books that had been checked out and helping people find what they were looking for, and you could go home and eat something.  It wasn’t that you didn’t love your job--you love helping people and reading, and this combines the two--but working until closing can get tiring, especially when it means you don’t get to eat dinner until 9 o’clock or so.

You’re rounding the third-to-last row of nonfiction when you see it.  The Blender Cookbook.  It looms on the shelf like a ghost of the 1960′s, the spine slightly torn, the cover long-yellowed.  Gingerly, you pull it down from the shelf.  You recognize the torn cover, the desperate attempt to tape together what had once been nearly ripped in half.  If you flipped it open, you know it would open to a tear so big you could see the inside of the spine and a recipe for Jellied Ham Loaf.  Its barcode is blacked out, but if you ran it through the scanner, you know that the system would say that the book was last checked out ten years ago.  You’re sure that you discarded this book a few days ago.  How it got back here, though, is a mystery.

On a hunch, you check back through the shelves, looking more closely, and sure enough, you find more.  A Treasury of Crocheted Sweaters.  Homosexuality: Disease or Way of Life?  The Sexually Adequate Male.  The Disney Book of Knitting.  And several more.  All on the shelves.  All horribly outdated (and in some cases, downright offensive).  All discarded within the past week. One might have been an accident, two a coincidence.  But this many?  Someone must be doing this on purpose.  You take the stack of discarded books and, stopping briefly to let your coworkers know what’s going on, you make your way back to the corner containing the library’s used book sale.

When you get there, you see... something you hadn’t expected.  At all.  A pile of books is hovering in the air, only to suddenly drop to the floor as soon as you turn the corner.

“Hello?” you ask, wondering if you just missed whoever was holding the books.  No response.  You would investigate more, but it’s almost closing time, so you shelve the books you had recovered and the ones that had fallen (they must have fallen from the shelf, there’s no way they were floating) and put it out of your mind for the time being.

The next day, there are discarded books on the shelves again.  You go through the shelves again, once again pulling all the ones you could find--although you have no idea why anyone would want to put the book on Hollywood with all the pictures of Marilyn Monroe cut out of it back into circulation--and, on a hunch, leave a sticky note stuck to one of the books.

Hello!  These books have all been discarded.  You’re welcome to buy them for a quarter apiece, but please don’t put them back on the shelves.  They’ve all been pulled for a reason, and we need more room for new books.  Thank you.

The next day, discards are still returned to the shelves, but there is a response written on the back of your sticky note.

We live in these books.  We don’t want to leave.

For a moment, you think you must be imagining things.  That there can’t possibly be anything living in the books.  Then you remember the flying pile and the fact that something replied to your note and think maybe, maybe, there could be something.  Just in case, you leave another note.

Would any of you be willing to move?  Because we get new books all the time, and the books that leave here are going to good homes.  I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this, but some of the books aren’t in good shape or have old information, and we would like to get new ones.

There.  Now if there was really something, they would respond, and if not, you could just shrug it off.  You stick the note to the book and go about your shift.

The next day, none of the discarded books have migrated back to the shelves.  Instead, when you check the used book sale, a pile of books has settled on one end of a shelf.  And sure enough, there’s a sticky note.

These are the ones that were adamant about not leaving.  The rest of us are willing to try moving to another book or another building.  For the sake of knowledge.

You look at the stack.  It’s sizable, but a smaller portion of what’s been discarded than you expected.  With a sigh, you pick it up and head for the checkout desk.  Two minutes and a broken ten dollar bill later, you are the proud owner of a pile of used books (fortunately nothing too offensive).  The storage area you’ve been given in the back office is not large, but you’re not using much of it, and you think you can fit the books there with some finagling.  You’ll figure out a more permanent place for them later.  One final sticky note awaits at the end of your shift.

Thank you.

You are a librarian, and you have two problems:

1. There are too many books and not enough shelves, so you’re required to go through and throw out all the duplicates, outdated encyclopedia sets, trashy magazines, etc.

2. Someone keeps pulling them out of the trash and putting them back on the shelves.