#do i have a chip on my shoulder about being a teen librarian? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mistahgrundy · 3 years

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If you’re new here this is a reminder that my main thing I do is my own webcomic named String Theory. It, unfortunately, had quite a lengthy hiatus that just ended due to various real life stuff I don’t want to talk about.

Instead here’s a handy dandy primer for new and old!

Comic is about this butthole:

I’ve been drawing this comic for over ten years so he used to look like this.

Dr. Schtein was a little baby child genius that graduated from college with a doctorate super early and then proceeded to just sort of flounder and do nothing of importance but still maintain a “look at me I was a child genius” chip on his shoulder. He had a massive drinking problem. Still has a smoking problem and a drug problem (though these aren’t as bad as his drinking was). The substance abuse problems really ramped up (they were already there) after his wife left him about 13 years prior to the comic starting. If you do the math he got married when he was 20. Which is. not usually the best idea. I mean hey it can work out, but it did not for Dr. Schtein. He was divorced about two months into the marriage. He’d just turned 21.

Anyway he’s made some dumbass decisions that landed him in prison for most of a year recently. He pissed off the wrong people and he was being held without charges and everyone on the outside believed he was dead. He’s now out and about and kinda mad about it!

He’s in love with this woman, Delia Osgood, even though she’s 11 years his junior and frankly isn’t sure how she really feels about him. Also she could kick his ass.

Delia is also a physicist, but hasn’t finished her doctorate yet. She’s currently working in a crime lab for a super secret project for the government.

Delia moved to the US when she was in her late teens from London. Her mother is a librarian and her father is a former boxer, Winston Osgood. She has two brothers and one sister. She loves trashy metal and trashy romance books. She’s prone to making bad decisions in the romance department.

Phineas is a serial killer who’s been enployed by the mob in the past and present. While he was in prison Dr. Schtein met THIS horrible asshole. Unfortunately their lives are now a little bit intertwined. Schtein would really rather they weren’t, Phineas is of no use to him, but he’s the son in law of the guy Dr. Schtein is super fucking mad at, the guy who’s been screwing with his life for a year, so they’re going to keep bumping into each other.

Phineas is really obsessed with getting his wife back, who he hadn’t seen for a decade before recently as they were incarcerated separately. He’s not really capable of love, but he thinks of her as HIS.

This is Dr. Schtein’s best friend, Laurence, they’ve known each other since college. You’d think given the age difference that Laurence would have taken on the mentor role to the younger Schtein, but Laurence ended up being in the more submissive role, letting Schtein bully him into situations he would have normally avoided. They were not good influences on each other at all. They still aren’t, but they’re all each other has.

Laurence dropped out of college after Schtein graduated early and joined the navy (where he got those gnarly leg scars). From there he was kicked out, did a little bit of time in a military psych ward and then was homeless for a few years. He managed to get off the street working his way up the crime ladder, petty crimes, sex work, protection jobs, then working for Eliza Thanatos and then finally for her father, Darius. He was recently fired from that, so he’s at a bit of a low point right now.

Orville von Schtein, Dr. Schtein’s grandfather, who used to be a really respected geneticist. He did a lot of work for the government, he helped cure a virus that was destroying the US, after that he was working in a secret lab creating super spies for the country. He managed to create a handful before the project was scrapped and deemed irresponsible. These would be Cain and Abel, and the less powerful Judith (the frog lady), Eli (the disgusting goo guy), Frank (fire guy), Darren (lightning dude), and others who likely won’t be in the comic only mentioned here and there (a few of them are dead)

Orville’s weirdly sentimental and attached to these people, thinking of them as his own children. Which is odd since he basically put them through hell. The treatments to make them how they are were not pleasant. Judith thinks of him like a father, so with at least one of them the feeling is mutual. Abel extremely hates Orville and is genuinely scared of him.

After that he was working for a company in Chicago on some kind of weird ass fungus that was supposed to have therapeutic properties when he realized he was being framed for something within the company and he flipped his lid and released a modified version of the fungus killing almost the entire city (which was quarantined before the fungus could infect more people) and transforming himself into some kind of mycological lich. He is now basically immortal and having been alone for over 15 years isn’t too mentally stable.

He has recently left Chicago.

Darius Thanatos has been trying to get Orville to come work for him for YEARS now, Orville has been refusing until recently.

Darius Thanatos is pulling a lot of the strings behind the comic, he employs Abel, He’s the one who had Dr. Schtein busted out of the prison he’d been funding. Funding intended to funnel prisoners into his secret research labs as his own scientists futilely attempted to recreate Orville’s work.

Darius is a former mobster who owns a private security company. That’s the public friendly cover, anyway. His company supplies cities and businesses with police forces, does weapons research and manufacture, crowd control, you name it.

He has three children, Denise, Eugene, and Eliza (the baby of the kids). He’s not the world’s greatest father. His wife has been separated from him for over ten years, she lives in Rome. Denise’s mother, his previous wife, is long deceased.

Darius’ health is failing.

#what a big ass post

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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beholdme · 3 years

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All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 10

Chapters: 10/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

"When was the last time we saw Gerry?" Jon asks in a panic. Martin looks up from the other side of the dinner table. The pair of them are at their typical Thursday night date, in Jon’s favourite Italian restaurant.

They had previously been studying their menus, but Martin had felt Jon’s tension from the moment they met outside the library. It wasn't exactly surprising, considering the recent developments in their relationship, but he was still acutely aware of it.

“You saw him yesterday morning before work, and I saw him today when he came into the bookstore to drink tea and read an entire book without buying it.” Martin reminds him. He’s already told Jon about seeing Gerry today, and he was there when they had all said goodbye the previous morning.

Martin is fairly sure that Jon’s issue is more with the fact that Gerry was pale and tear-soaked as Martin had kissed him goodbye, and that Gerry had clung to Jon like an oversized barnacle as they rocked together for a final moment before they both left him alone to his thoughts. Martin knew he had slept and painted, or at least, that was what Gerry had told him in the quiet moments Martin had taken to spend with him in between the aisles of books that morning.

“You should go over and see him if you’re concerned. We could go to the bar after we eat, and then you can go stay the night with him.” Martin tells him gently, nudging his foot under the table.

"Maybe it would be better for Gerry if you go alone," Jon replies quietly, staring at his menu and refusing to make any kind of eye contact.

Martin closes and sets aside his own menu, leaning forward on the table to focus his full attention on the idiot love of his life.

"Why? Because he and I sleep together and you think that makes our intimacy more important? Or because you perceive it's your fault that his heart is broken and because of that you think you don't deserve to feel any comfort you might get from seeing him?" Jon goes shock still at Martin's words, eyes simply downcast now, instead of pretending to read the menu they both have memorized. "Or was it both at the same time?"

"Yellow," Jon says unhappily.

Only Jonothan Sims could safeword out of a conversation. Martin thinks tartly. I bet he learnt that from Gerry.

Martin sighs and leans back, out of Jon's atmosphere. "I won't push a conversation you don't want to have, love, but you have to know that neither of those things is true."

"No?" Jon snaps, finally jerking his head up to look at Martin. "Not even you can deny that I demanded that confession. I don't know what I expected him to say-" Jon cuts off, words choked off. "But not… Not that. Not those awful, horrifying things. All that trauma dragged out and put on display like some kind of, of-" Jon stutters to a halt, pressing his eyes tightly closed as if to escape the thought that anyone had ever laid hands on their bright, beautiful boy.

"Like some kind of bloody museum exhibit? You couldn't have guessed. And you have a right to closure as much as anyone." Martin says emphatically. He reaches out to clasp their hands together, and Jon thankfully allows the contact. "No one could ever look at Gerry and guess that those skeletons live in his closet. That he hides those scars behind his sweet smiles and paint-stained hands."

"I was there, Martin. I was with him the night before he ran away. He already knew, had already decided to go, and I didn't notice." Jon bites out the final words, bringing his hand down on the table in frustration. It's the ultimate recrimination in his own mind.

"You can't know what you've never been told Jon, you aren't omniscient. You can't know what Gerry and I are thinking and feeling unless we tell you. Just like Gerry and I can't know what you're feeling when you avoid telling us things." Martin sighs, the exhaustion of several days of tears and worry dragging down on him. "We can pick up on it sometimes though, and we aren't scared teenagers anymore. Gerry will know you're avoiding him if you send me to check on him tonight and it will hurt him. If you're committed to him, and I know you are, then you owe him your bravery now. We all have to overcome our insecurities if we want to make this work."

Jon and Martin sit looking at each other for a few heavy seconds.

"I don't feel brave," Jon whispers across the space between them.

"I know, my love. Neither do I. But we are." Martin lifts Jon's hand to press a kiss to Jon's palm, just as Gerry had on their initial date in the bar. "We can be brave together, the three of us."

Gerry is not at work. They share a look of sinking fear when they don't find him working his shift at the bar.

He is at home when they let themselves into his loft, much to their relief. His posture and the general disarray fills Jon, especially, with fresh anxiety.

He leans against his art table, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the most jarring painting Jon and Martin have ever seen him create. If the angry swirls of color and violent-looking paint slashes even constitute a painting.

Gerry is wearing the same going-out clothes he had been wearing when Martin had seen him earlier, rather than his typical comfortable home clothes. He is covered in paint, and his makeup is smeared across his eyes from repeated rubbing.

Martin nudges Jon in Gerry's direction and moves off towards the kitchen.

"I do not want tea, Martin." Gerry's quiet voice manages to fill the space, hollow and empty, much like his facial expression.

"Good," He responds, hardly missing a beat. "I was going to look for the whiskey."

"Stop looking like a kicked puppy Jon, you didn't do anything wrong," Gerry says to him, offering his cigarette. Jon eyes the doorway that Martin just disappeared through, but ultimately goes over and takes it. They lean together, shoulder to shoulder, smoking and each trying to draw warmth from the other.

"Do you know what I thought about for years after you left?" Jon eventually whispers softly.

"What?"

"That last night we were together. Do you remember?"

Gerry laughs breathlessly at the question, pressing his eyes shut and curling slightly in on himself. "Yes Jon, I remember. How could I ever forget."

"That was the last time I had sex." Gerry finally looks over at him, no shock, no visible reaction at all really, but his attention focuses on him. Jon focuses his own attention on the painting, which is easier to look at than Gerry's face right now, despite its discordant energy. "I could never let go of that feeling I had after; like we were one soul separated by our ridiculous bodies. Like our intimacy, however desperate and hormonal, brought us closer together than anything else we could ever do together in this life."

Jon releases the confession into the room around them, finally releasing himself from the weight of it.

"And then I was gone," Gerry whispers back, voice small.

"And then you were gone. I was never very interested in sex as it was, and then even when I was in relationships after that, I never wanted to risk lying in someone's arms and finding a hole where that feeling should have been. Or maybe even worse, finding it there again, as if what we had wasn't as special as I had thought, and that was why you had just been able to walk away so easily."

"It wasn't. It was the worst thing I ever did."

"I know that now," Jon says, taking a long, grounding drag of his cigarette, "But that was the fear that sat in my chest and kept that wound bleeding, right up until the day that I watched you walk out of my library stacks, like some kind of literary saviour, reborn from my desire and ink and old parchment paper."

Gerry pushes off from the table they are perching on. "I understand if you don't want this anymore. I wouldn't want to be with me, either, if I were you."

"Gerry-" Jon tries to cut him off, but he plows on ahead, apparently deciding to just get the words out from where they've been suffocating him.

"You can keep Martin, obviously, you knew him first. You two were happy together before I plowed into your lives like a fucking freight train."

Martin himself, listening in the other room, doesn't particularly appreciate Gerry attempting to hand him off like a negotiating chip, but keeps his opinions to himself for the time being, in the hopes that Jon will handle the situation.

Jon watches Gerry for a moment as he starts moving things around, shoulders tense and movements aggressive. He rolls his next words very carefully around his mouth before he allows himself to speak.

"You did plow into our lives like a freight train." Gerry releases a sound of distress at the repeated words, and Jon slowly walks up to him and takes his shaking hands, turning Gerry towards him and hoping to finally encourage eye contact between them. "But we don't think that's a bad thing. We love you, Gerry Delano. I love you. I loved you when you were Gerard Keay, and I love you now and I loved you in a tiny box in my heart for all the years we were apart. I would be an idiot if I let this hurt between us keep us apart for any longer than it already has, and the last thing I could ever want is to watch you walk out of my life again."

Tears slip down Gerry's messy cheeks and Jon reaches up to brush them gently away.

"Please," Jon begs him, voice hoarse. "Please stay with me, please keep us here in your loft and teach me to paint my nails and be brave. Let Martin braid your hair and keep going into his store to read his books without buying them."

For a moment they simply stand, tears pouring from Gerry's tightly shut eyes while Jon clings to him and tries desperately to occupy the same space in the universe as Gerry does.

Gerry's eyes open slowly, teal irises only enhanced by the brightness of his tears.

"Yes," he tells Jon.

"Yes? You'll stay with us?"

"Yes. Always." Gerry pulls Jon further into his embrace and they cling together, crying quietly.

"Thank God," Martin mutters in the next room, running his hands up his face and through his hair in relief. Shaking it out and releasing the tension that had wound itself up in his gut, he gets up and starts moving about with purpose.

"Is Martin cooking?" Gerry asks incredulously as the scent of frying bacon reaches them through their tearful haze.

"Oh," Jon says, glancing up at the kitchen doorway. "I guess so. We never ate any dinner."

"Why not?" Gerry asks, sniffling.

Jon sighs, full of gratitude and long-suffering. "Because Martin wouldn't stop emotionally stripping me naked in public."

Gerry laughs wetly, imagination running wild.

"Also," he says, full of exhausted affection. "Because we love you."

"Oh." Gerry curls around Jon even more. "I'm glad."

Martin feeds them, and sends Gerry to shower, and puts on a movie for Jon to start. He doesn't touch any of the art things, but he tidies a little as he hovers around, waiting for him to emerge from the bathroom.

When he does, Gerry looks much, much better. The smudged makeup and paint are washed away, and his hair is wet. It all combines to make Gerry look very young, and Martin is reminded that he is actually the youngest of them, despite always seeming so settled into his life.

Martin takes his hand and tugs him towards the lounge section of the big main space.

"Martin, I-" Gerry starts.

"Not now, love. You and I will sort things out later when you've slept and had time to process everything else." Martin's tone doesn't invite any argument, and Gerry's teeth snap together as he closes his mouth.

The movie plays, but Gerry sleeps through it and so does Jon, mostly.

As the credits roll, Martin giggles to find himself somewhat drowning in sleeping men, despite the quiet heaviness still hanging in the air. Jon wakes at the motion, since Martin is almost directly beneath him, and yawns and stretches.

"How are we going to get our lumberjack to bed?" Jon asks, eyeing Gerry's long form with some trepidation.

"I could carry him, probably," Martin says, with no real confidence.

"Please don't," Gerry mutters into the side of Martin's neck, where his face is buried.

"Ah, problem solved," Jon says, leaning over Martin to kiss Gerry.

Martin hopes they wake each enough to walk to bed, lacking the desire to carry anyone anywhere at this time of night. Especially up the stairs to Gerry's loft, where the bed lives.

They make it up to the bedroom eventually, and collapse together, sleeping soundly through the night.

Gerry doesn't always like lying in the middle when all three of them are in bed together, being the warmest and the longest of the three of them, but the next morning that's where he finds himself.

The window lets in the cool, gentle light of pre-dawn, and Gerry shifts around, trying to orientate himself.

Jon is lying right on his edge, on his stomach, absolutely dead to the world, a halo of wavy black and silver hair surrounding him chaotically.

Martin is lying on his back, one arm threaded through Gerry's, the other thrown over his head. He breathes deeply, but shifts periodically, as if unsettled. Gerry turns towards Martin, bare chest pressing against his shoulder and feels dread settle into his stomach as he watches his partner sleep fitfully.

Gerry knows he won't be going back to sleep, but doesn't even consider getting up and moving away from the men in his bed.

Martin stirs at his movement, moving his arm to curl around his waist and draw him in close. Gerry buries his face in Martin's shoulder, arm thrown across his waist.

"What’s the time, Ger?" He mutters.

"Early still. Almost six." He whispers in return, peering over Martin to check the bedside clock.

He groans. "You alright?"

Gerry hums back, pressing a kiss to Martin's chest since it's so conveniently close by.

They lie together for a while, cuddled up close, sharing body heat and gentle comfort, until eventually, Martin surfaces properly, mostly to use the bathroom.

He comes back with a glass of water, which Gerry shares with him before they settle back as they were before.

Martin runs his fingers through Gerry's hair and Gerry traces patterns along Martin's chest through his shirt.

"I'm sorry," Gerry whispers into the cool semi-darkness.

"For having a breakdown?" Martin's tone is carefully even, although he continues to hold Gerry close.

"No, not that."

"You mean the part where you assured Jon he could keep me as if I were an unwanted child in a divorce. A feeling I'm plenty familiar with, actually." The carefully natural tone continues, and Gerry presses his fingers into Martin's side, hurt sliding through him at his own stupidity. His heart breaks to imagine how the careless words had made Martin feel.

"That's not what I meant." His voice is small and he hates the useless words, but he can't push any others out.

"Don't worry about it. I'll admit, I do normally prefer to be involved in the plans for my own future, but I'll let it slide this time." Martin smiles just a little, an edge of bitterness creeping in. “On the grounds of emotional distress.”

"Martin…" Gerry presses the word into his skin, curling even closer.

"I'll ask you this though. Did you really think I would just walk away with Jon after what's been between us?" Martin's voice finally, finally breaks just a little. Through the entire Mary confession, Jon's emotional struggle, their confrontations, and the oceans of tears, Martin had been completely steady, calm, logical, never falling into the erratic emotions of his partners, but this is what finally gets to him.

"I-I don't know what I thought. I guess I just couldn't fathom at that moment that you and Jon could ever want me again." Gerry slides his hand up, curling it around Martin's face and drawing it down to face him. "I'm broken, Martin, and I don't want my brokenness to break you."

Martin signs softly, turning over towards him, so they press together. Their foreheads touch and he kisses him gently, just once.

“You are not broken. What happened to you is fucked up, and anyone can understand you being messy and volatile sometimes, especially with how balanced you normally are. Maybe next time, ask us how we feel. Instead of, you know, staying up for two days, trashing your flat, and coming to my job to say goodbye to me without actually telling me anything.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Gerry asks, flushing.

“Yes, love. The complete lack of flirting, winking, and ass grabbing rather gave it away. You also paid for your drink. Very out of character.”

Gerry laughs and presses closer into him. “I have to keep you in business. Got to pay for something.”

Martin squeezes him reassuringly, rubbing their noses together.

They are quiet for a moment, and Martin frowns in consideration, before going on. “You and Jon aren't the only catalysts here. I would have fought for you if Jon wanted to pack it in and walk away. I chose you just as much as I chose Jon. Just as much as you chose me. Please remember that the next time you're tempted to treat me like a pawn in this arrangement, because I am not.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Gerry tells him, sincerity heavy in his voice.

“Then we'll say no more about it.”

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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myspeedybouquetpenguin · 4 years

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Chapter One: The Snow Ball

Summary: Jonathan and Nancy and the Snow Ball :) Warnings: None

Word Count: 1627

Crisp frozen snowflakes drifted down and created a thick blanket across the ground. It smelled cold. I walked briskly to the doors of Hawkins High and stomped my feet on the ground as soon as I entered. I shivered and let the soft wool of my mittens slide off of my hands. I checked my watch. I was just on time for class, but the first bell would have already rang,

“Hello Gladys!” I chimed to the librarian as I hurried past her. Her chunky heels clicked towards me.

“Nancy, you’re not early today?” I felt my eyes crinkle in the corners from her teasing. I sniped over my shoulder, “I was up all night reading the book you lent me” She chuckled in understanding as she clipped away. I rounded the corner and pushed open the door to Mrs. Pritchard’s English room.

Inside multiple students looked up at me rushing to the back of the room. I set down my bag and fell into my seat. Jonathan was sat in front of me. His leather jacket crinkled as he turn around to smile at me. We’d gone on a few dates since I’d broken up with Steve, but we weren’t like boyfriend girlfriend yet. I made a mental note to remember to pack bandages for the Snow Ball tonight. I settled in and pulled out a pencil as the scratchy sound of chalk on board filled the room.

After class Jonathan leaned against my locker and smiled at me. Sunlight was filtering in through a window nearby. It lit his face in the glow of the sun. He looked adorable, “So Nancy, I was wondering… if… maybe” He fiddled with a piece of paper and glanced into the distance before making eye contact with me. Other students milled around us in an effort to get wherever they were going. I smiled at him to let him know that I wanted to hear what he had to say, “I figure like… we’ve been out on a couple of dates since you know everything…” He clenched his hands together and sucked in a quick breath, “I want to go to the Snow Ball as a couple, like be official and… stuff”. I felt a giddy grin spread across my face. He wanted to be an official couple, with me. Like he would walk through the hall and think oh there’s my girlfriend Nancy, and I’d look back at him and think man there’s my boyfriend Jonathan.

“Yeah, I would really like that Jonathan” I closed my locker and grinned at him. He let out the air he’d sucked in before and let his eyes crease up at the corners in a grin of relief. I hope he hadn’t thought there was a possibility I would say no. We started towards the cafeteria and began conversation as usual. We agreed that he would pick me up so we could meet at Hawkins Middle to set up for the dance.

The school day whirled by me in a collection of chemistry notes and equations. I arrived home and bounced up the stairs. The fuzzy wool of the carpet scraped against the bottoms of my feet. Of course I had been excited to help out at the dance, I was happy to see Mike starting to get out there, but I was even more excited that me and Jonathan would be there as a couple. I sat down at my vanity and began to fiddle with my hair. I wanted it to look elegant, but also functional; I was working, not dancing the night away. I turned on some music and let my hands dance through my hair, twisting and working so that the perfect look would be achieved. I finished it with slick mascara and a shiny lip gloss.

------

Jonathan arrived at five o’clock sharp. He’d sprayed some form of cologne in his car. It smelt like pine and cedarwood. My boyfriend had good taste in cologne. I slammed the car door shut behind me and rubbed my hands together in an attempt to warm up. When turned to look at him he was staring.

“Do I have something on my face?” I quickly tried to check my appearance in the rear view mirror. Jonathan laughed at me and put the car into gear, the car clunked and hummed in anticipation of its journey,

“Nancy you look stunning, there’s nothing wrong” a rose shade spread from his ears across to his nose, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to stare.” I let out a giggle and smiled at him.

“Good, that was my intended effect, I want you to stare” He made a quick menouveur out of the driveway and we were off. We cruised along the Hawkins roads in comfortable silence. The tires of the car crunched the snow underneath. I let myself take in Jonathan’s appearance. He wore a crisp cut tuxedo with some shoes he’d tried to shine the scuffs out of.

“Jonathan” I let the flirt come out in my voice. He turned me,

“Yeah?”

“You look nice also” He blushed again at the compliment and tucked his hair behind his ear. He thanked me and focused again on the road.

---

I barely noticed the time it took to set everything up. By the time I looked at my watch I realized that kids would be streaming through the doors in only half an hour. Jonathan and I were almost finished setting up his little photo booth, “You see I picked this colour scheme because I figured most kids would be wearing darks - you know blues and blacks and stuff - I want the pictures to look good” I smiled at his care and finished securing the last pole into place. The backdrop was made from a flowing tulle. He’d spent a good hour searching through Joyce’s shed to find the right combination of sheets.

“When Mr. Pricks took our pictures in the seventh grade, he kept the cap on the lens. Anything you do will be awesome” I placed my hand reassuringly on his back and pressed a small kiss on his cheek, “You’re an amazing photographer”. He smiled back at me and began adjusting his tripod. I told him that I probably wouldn’t see him a lot during the dance, but that I’d told my parents I’d be home at ten, so we’d have plenty of time to take stuff down.

I left Jonathan to make my way over to the drink table. I began to recheck that anything we’d need in an emergency was present. We had bandages, polysporin, tape, and tissues (for the inevitable tween drama which would unfold). I began counting off the items when Mrs. Pritchard came up beside me.

“Nancy, I saw that you and Jonathan arrived in the same car. Are you having car trouble?” I could hear the concern in her voice. I straightened from under the table and smiled at her.

“No Mrs. Pritchard, Jonathan is… actually my boyfriend now.” I expected her to judge me in the way that adults tend to judge teenagers, but she grinned instead and turned her gaze to look at me full on.

“Now that is a smart match Ms. Wheeler, quite a smart match”

As if on cue Jonathan turned to look at us, unaware that we were talking about him, and flashed us a big grin. The lights of the gymnasium lit him in a funny purple hue.

“He’s absolutely pumped Mrs. Pritchard, he gets all geeky about this photography stuff” She laughed and nodded. She began to tell me stories about her husband and his obsession with model trains, just as she was getting to the good bit of one of her stories I saw the first middle schooler walk through the door. She quickly noticed also and bid me a goodbye for the evening. I watched her shuffle away to her assigned station.

The girl was extremely tall for her age. She had a small sparkly clutch under her hand. She must’ve felt extremely nervous being the first one here. God knows even I get anxious to show up to events first. I greeted her warmly and asked if she’d like a glass of punch. I remembered what it was like to be that young and awkward. I made conversation with her and she slowly began to relax. I kept talking with her until her friends came through the door and she instantly brightened up. The Snow Ball had begun.

----

Plastic cups, streamers, and balloons lay strewn across the floor of the gymnasium. I heard some kind of chips crunch under my flats as I made my way through the mess. A janitor nearby was slowly working her way across the room with her giant mop. A slow love song was playing over her stereo. A few other teens were around the school locking up for the night. It had been an excellent Snow Ball. Jonathan met me in the middle of the room and shoved his hands in his pockets, “I love this song” he said. I let myself slightly sway to the beat and nodded my head,

“Yeah this is a really good one” I let my gaze wander across the room before I looked back at him. He had stretched out his hand and was smirking at me,

“I know it wasn’t our Snow Ball, but I was wondering, could I have this dance?” I let out a small burst of laughter before feeling my heart warm at the gesture.

I accepted his hand and we slow swayed among the wreckage of the middle school dance. We let the magnetic music dictate our movements. It was the best way to end the long week: with Jonathan.

#jancy #jancyfic #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #jonathan x nancy #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x nancy wheeler #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic

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silverfootstepswrites · 6 years

Text

Butterfly [2]

summary Well, if you fall on the ice, it’ll bring the swelling down by itself...

Sakura woke with a headache. Her whole body ached, actually. And when she looked out the window, palm pressed to her temple, it was still dark. She wondered why her alarm hadn’t gone off. Or why one of her rink-mates wasn’t texting her to get the hell up.

It took a while. Too long, in fact, to realize that this was the house she had grown up in. That what awaited her wasn’t ice but books.

She clenched her hands in her lap. Noticed that she was still in her clothes from the night before. But her phone and keys were on the nightstand. So apparently she had gotten home fine. When she checked the screen, it was before 5 am.

Sighing, she swung her legs out of bed. There was no point in trying to fall back asleep now. Her head still felt a little fuzzy. And the best way to get alcohol out of the blood, she had learned, was to sweat it out.

Earbuds in, she made her way through the dark house. She stretched her limbs between bites of her cereal. And by the time she ran out the front door, the sun was beginning to rise.

It was already April. This year’s skating season would be coming to a close soon. Out of habit, she had kept up with the results from all the major events. It was the first time in a long time that she hadn’t been at the World Championships in person. It felt odd looking up the scores online. Seeing all the familiar faces on news sites rather than in person.

Shaking her head, Sakura set off down the hill. She would run a circuit around the town. Until the jumbled thoughts in her head had the chance to straighten themselves out. Classical music flowing through her ears, Sakura kept her eyes focused straight ahead.

The second day at her new job was about the same as her first. She still felt the stares from the students. Although, it seemed that word was getting around that she wasn’t quite as friendly as rumored. Which suited her just fine. She didn’t really have a public image to maintain anymore.

Sakura spent some more time going through the closet in the back of the library. She found a few more books that could be added to the collection. She had lunch in the teacher’s room again. It looked like some of the other teachers were nursing hangovers, wincing at loud noises and shielding their eyes from the window.

“Ah, I knew you’d be alright,” remarked Shikamaru, tossing his things onto his desk, one hand in his pocket.

“Why? I wasn’t feeling so hot when I woke up either,” answered Sakura. And Shikamaru raised his eyebrows.

“Weird. You seemed fine when you left. I walked you to your house. You didn’t seem drunk or anything,” he replied. Sakura grimaced, rubbing the back of her neck.

“I didn’t say anything weird?” she pried. Shikamaru shook his head. And then he smirked, leaning over the desk to stare at her.

"Why? Does the great Haruno-senshu have bad drinking habits? That's not something we got to see in the news," he teased. She smiled, for a moment.

"I guess not."

After lunch, Sakura shuffled through the old logs Chiyo-sensei had left behind. As she flipped, the edge of one of the papers sliced through her fingertip. She scrambled to wrap a tissue around it so that blood wouldn't get on any of the papers. Hand clamped around her finger, she hurried out into the hallway, downstairs to the nurse's office.

She pushed the door open with one hand.

"Excuse me? Sensei?" she called out.

There was a pause. A chair squeaked. And then a man with bright red hair emerged. That made Sakura pause. She had sort of expected the kind old lady who had always been there. The man paused too.

"Haruno-sensei? How can I help you?" he asked her. And then his eyes drifted down to her finger clutched in her hand.

"Ah," he said.

She sat down in a chair, looking around the tiny office. The walls were bright white. There were two narrow beds separated by a blue curtain. There was a desk with a computer on it, along with green cabinets along the walls with glass doors. The office hadn't really changed since she had graduated. And she had been a frequent customer. Bruised legs, swollen toes- she had limped in here at least once a week to ask for an ice pack.

The doctor sat on his rolling stool. He held out his hand to her.

"It must be awkward when someone knows your name and you don't know theirs," he remarked. Sakura's lips twitched upwards.

"It is. You get used to it, though," she responded.

"I'm Sabakuno Gaara. And you can probably guess that I'm the school doctor," he introduced himself. He then peeled back the tissue she had wrapped around her cut. Although there was a lot of blood, it was a shallow wound. He turned around in his chair to rummage through the drawers.

"I'm sorry I wasn't at your party yesterday. I have a son, so I can't stay out late," Gaara apologized, turning back to her. Sakura's eyebrows rose.

"You have a son? I don't mean to be rude, but how old are you?" she asked.

"I'm 33. He's adopted, though. So no spreading rumors about me having a child in my teens," he responded. They chuckled. Sakura found her shoulders relaxing. She barely winced when he sanitized the cut with alcohol.

"How are you liking the school so far?" asked Gaara. Sakura shrugged her free shoulder.

"It feels weird being back here. But nostalgic, at the same time. It's been a while," she answered. Gaara nodded.

"Nara-sensei used to be a student here too, right?"

"He and I were in Hatake-sensei's class together. I've known him since we were kids," Sakura confirmed. She watched as Gaara wrapped a bandage around her finger. The bleeding had already stopped. It was more of a matter of keeping the cut clean. She could see the doctor pause as he saw the faint calluses on her fingers. Not on the tips, but running like lines down the sides. But she could tell that he was trying not to be rude because he didn't ask about them.

"There. All done. Can't have the new librarian bleeding to death," he quipped. Sakura got to her feet, bowing her head a little. He returned the gesture.

"Thank you, Sensei," she said. But as she turned toward the door, it slid open on its own. A student walked in, a yawn stretching his mouth.

"Senseiiii, I'm gonna take a nap," he mumbled, stumbling his way in. Gaara sighed, shaking his head.

But Sakura hooked her finger into the collar of the student's shirt as he walked past.

"Hey! Let me go!" he grumbled. As he flailed to get free, he caught sight of her face. All signs of sleep fled from his expression. In fact, his entire face lit up as he turned to her.

"Nee-chan!" Naruto crowed, trying to throw his arms around her. Sakura jerked him away by his collar again.

"We're at school. Call me 'sensei'," she reprimanded. And Naruto sulked, lower lip sticking out.

"You're so mean, Nee-chan. You don't even tell me you're coming back home. You don't come to visit us. And now you won't even let me hug you," Naruto whined. Sakura's expression didn't change.

"I don't hug brats that skip class. Get out of here," retorted Sakura.

"But Hatake-sensei's class is boooring. He makes me sleepy," Naruto complained. Sakura released his collar to slap the back of his head.

"Get back to class," she said again. Naruto rubbed the sore spot. And suddenly, his eyes gleamed.

"Will you come visit if I go back to class?" asked Naruto. Sakura's eyes narrowed. Hand on her hip as she considered this. And then, she flapped her hand at him. Naruto whooped.

"Today?" he asked.

"Fine, fine. Get out," Sakura sighed.

Naruto raced out of the room faster than she had ever seen him move before. Gaara crossed his arms across his chest.

"It must be nice being from around here. Is Uzumaki-kun a relative of yours?" queried Gaara.

Sakura sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Something like that."

As soon as the last bell rang, the library doors burst open. Naruto stood in the doorway, panting. Sakura didn't look up at him. She took her time double-checking the logbook before she closed it.

"Let's go!" Naruto wheedled.

"Hold your horses. I've still got stuff to do," she replied. She moved to the windows to begin lowering the blinds. Naruto threw his stuff aside to help her, chattering away merrily. He grinned so hard that it almost looked like his face would tear in two. He had grown a lot taller, but he hadn't changed much in terms of his personality.

The ground was littered with flower petals. Muffling their footsteps. There were still students milling around the doors and schoolyard when Sakura stepped out. One hand gripping the strap of her bag. The window blew and her hair fell into her face. She pushed her bangs to the side as she watched Naruto run to retrieve his bike.

She said nothing as he walked it over to her. The pedals spinning slowly as the wheels rotated. Naruto beamed.

"Let's go!"

Naruto chattered away as they made their way down the hill. He only stopped when students whizzed past on their bikes, shouting his name at the top of their lungs. And Naruto would yell their names back, laughing just as hard. At the bottom of the mountain was an old skating rink. It actually didn't look as old now. At some point, they had renovated the outside of the place. Gotten rid of the chipping paint. Now it was sparkling white, even the railing of the steps leading up to the door were new. Sakura spotted a cardboard cut-out of herself in one of the front windows, posing with a gold medal. Naruto laughed at it until he saw the expression on her face. Then he hurried to jam his bike into the rack. Pumping his arms at his sides, he burst in through the front door.

"Oi, Naruto! You'll break- hey! What are you doing!" a man yelled as Sakura walked in.

She saw Naruto with the cut-out in his arms. And his father was holding onto the legs, trying to wrestle it away. They both froze when they saw her.

"...oh.... OH!" Minato said, eyes popping wide open. Shoving the cut-out into his son's arms, he rushed over to greet Sakura. Grasping both her hands in his. His whole face lighting up. Naruto used the distraction to stuff the life-sized cut-out of her into the corner. Cramming it behind a potted plant.

"You're all grown up!" Minato breathed, his expression radiant. Sakura fumbled to come up with the right words in response. Naruto's parents had been friends with her own parents. They had always treated her like she was one of them. And Minato hadn't changed a bit. A little more wrinkled, a little silver sprinkled into his hair.

The door behind the counter opened up.

"What's all the ruckus here!" Kushina scolded as she came out. When she spotted Sakura, she froze mid-finger-wag. Ducking under the counter, she ran out to smother Sakura in a hug. Minato moved out of the way to avoid being crushed too.

"Oooooh look who it is! It's been too long! Why didn't you let us know you were moving back!" she exclaimed, rocking Sakura back and forth. Naruto danced around them, barely able to contain his glee.

"That's what I said, Mom!" he agreed.

When Kushina finally pulled away, Sakura felt the air rush back into her lungs. Kushina clasped both her hands. Squeezing tight.

"So! Are you here to skate?" asked Kushina. Sakura almost said no. Hesitated at the way mother and son were staring at her like children on Christmas day. Behind them, Minato shrugged.

"I...uh... I didn't bring my skates," Sakura tried.

"That's fine!" Naruto responded. He launched himself over the counter and began digging through the racks. He dug up a pair that looked brand new.

"23, right?" he asked.

Sakura blinked a few times. "Uh..."

"Come on, Naruto. Sakura-chan is probably tired. Don't be so pushy," Minato finally stepped in to help her. Kushina and Naruto groaned in unison, leaning against each other and sagging. Like two balloons losing air. Sakura felt herself swaying a little.

"Well... I guess a little while can't hurt. Naruto can come watch only if he promises to do all his homework later," Sakura bargained. Naruto sprang upright.

Minato clapped Naruto on the back. He cast Sakura a glance over his shoulder, mouthing 'thank you'. Naruto squirmed out of his father's grip to run after Sakura.

A wall of cool air hit Sakura as soon as she opened the door. She flexed her hands, wishing that she had brought at least a pair of gloves. Her slacks weren't exactly the best material for skating, but they would do. Shedding her cardigan, she stepped onto the ice. Rubbing her bare arms to warm them up.

She stood in the middle of the rink, inside the blue circle. The smell of the cold settled into the back of her throat. Something about it was comforting.

"What kind of music should I play?" asked Naruto. She looked over and found him fiddling with the speakers. He plugged his phone in, fingers hovering over the screen.

"Anything," Sakura replied. And she watched Naruto make a face. He scrolled through a few things. His face lit up. He selected a song, eyes glittering as he looked up at her. Waiting for her reaction.

The brass section swelled. The strings rising up to meet them. It was the song from her exhibition at her last World Championships. She smiled, nodding at him once. As the violin section rose in a gorgeous crescendo, Sakura took off. Her skates carving into the pristine ice. The rink spinning past as she raised her arms to the heavens. She could feel her blood pumping to all her limbs as she threw herself into her jumps. The sharp blades of the skates chipping away at the ice.

She took off on the edge of her left skate, spiraling through the air. Landing on her right foot, left leg extended back. Naruto half-cheered before he stopped himself, hands clapping over his mouth. The strings screeching into an almost dissonant noise as she gathered speed. She dug her toe pick into the ice, launching herself high. Arms tucked in, counting the rotations.

'You really suck at this', she remembered him laughing as he skated over to help her to her feet.

She stuck the landing. Sweat beading on the back of her neck.

As she skated past, she glimpsed Naruto's star-struck expression. Face flushed as he watched her every move. She smiled a little to herself.

Once she finished the song, Naruto played another for her. The one from her short program during her second Junior Grand Prix. And then the free skate that had won her her second gold at the Grand Prix Final.

She felt her heart swell as she landed the tricky combination. Double-axel, triple-toe loop. The audience exploding into applause as she moved. Tears welled up in her eyes as she recalled sitting in the kiss and cry. Kisame throwing his arm around her as they announced her score. Another world record that she had shattered.

As the song ended, fading out in a decrescendo, the tears flowed freely down her face. Even though she was smiling. Even though all she could hear was the phantom applause, bouquets and dolls raining down onto the ice from the fans. The tears just wouldn't stop.

She knew that Naruto could see her. But he was surprisingly silent. He turned his back to her, pretending to check her phone. Giving her what little privacy he could as she composed herself.

Kushina invited her to stay for dinner. But Naruto distracted his mother, silently motioning for Sakura to slip out. She offered him a quick smile. Pretending that her nose was runny from how cold it was on the rink.

She took a hot bath when she got home. Leg dangling out of the tub, head resting against the tiled wall. She scrolled through her phone with one hand. Karin was back in Moscow, posing in front of the Red Square. Ino posted a photo of her morning smoothie bowl along with an inspirational quote. Sakura double-tapped both of them, adding a little heart to the count. She kept scrolling. Samui had posted a video of Haku skating in circles around her, showing off his new sponsored jacket and gloves.

Wrapped in a robe, wet hair twisted back in a towel, Sakura called Haku. It took a while. And when he did pick up, she could hear him fumbling.

"Haku?"

"Don't 'Haku' me! You're alive?!" he exclaimed.

"Ah," she replied. She sat at her desk. She had brought a few books home with her, just to read for fun. It had been a while since she had had the time to do anything like that.

"How could you just up and leave like that? You didn't even say goodbye? You didn't tell me beforehand that you were retiring? I've been calling you since the Olympics!" Haku nagged her nonstop. And Sakura listened, nodding like he could see her.

"You're so cruel! I was so distracted by you that I only got silver at the World Championships," he went on. It was almost like he was right in her ear. Sighing and complaining like he always did. That made her feel a little better.

“I seriously can’t believe you just retired like that,” Haku groaned into the phone for the millionth time. His voice was a little echoey. She could hear the sound of sharpened metal gliding across the ice.

“Are you training for the next season?” Sakura asked, leafing through a novel. She spotted a tear on one of the first few pages.

“Yeah. Coach says that if he ever sees you again, he’s going to chop you up and turn you into a hambagu steak,” Haku added, sounding a little less glum. There was a pause.

“I’m going to come visit you during the off-season. So I can rub all my new gold medals in your face,” he declared. Sakura laughed at that.

“I’ll look forward to it, Haku," she replied.

And then, just to rile him up, she added, "Maybe one day you'll get as many as me."

"Sakura, you asshole! Come up to Sendai and say that to my face!" he yelled. And then, in the background, she heard another voice.

"Wait! Is that Sakura-senpai? Let me say hi!"

“Haku! Get off the phone and get back on the ice or I’ll come over and beat your ass!”

"Ugh, so annoying! I'll call you back, Sakura," Haku hurried to say before he hung up.

Over the next several days, Sakura continued to get used to Konoha again. To the slow pace of the town. How people rarely hurried and pushed to get around. There were no angry drivers honking their horns or businessmen with stern faces shoving to fit on the train. People smiled more here. And Sakura had somehow managed to forget that during her time away.

With Tsunade's approval, Sakura began planning a small facelift for the library. She popped into the lab to ask Orochimaru for his help. He also happened to be the advisor of the botany club. With his help, she identified several plants that would help purify the air in the library. She spent part of her lunch break on the phone, looking for nearby nurseries. There was one a few towns over and she made a note to go visit it over the weekend.

"It's so... bland. Can we paint it?" Sakura asked, sticking her head into Tsunade's office again. The principal blinked.

"Paint it?" she repeated.

"I don't mean all the walls. Just... a mural against one of them?" Sakura suggested. Tsunade squinted at her.

"We don't have enough money to hire someone. Would you do it yourself?" asked Tsunade. Sakura made a face.

"Everything I draw ends up looking like a really ugly dog," she confessed. Tsunade tapped her chin.

"Why don't you go ask the art teacher? If he can't help, I'm sure he can point you to some students who can," Tsunade suggested.

"Oh? I haven't seen Iwano-sensei around. Do you know where I could find him?"

The art teacher when she had been a student was a young man from Tokyo. His roguish grins had made him popular with all the girls. And his love of video games had been him popular with all the boys. But Tsunade shook her head.

"Iwano-sensei was arrested for attempted arson not long after you graduated."

"Huh?"

"We have another art teacher now. He's an eccentric fellow, but he's not a bad guy," Tsunade explain. Sakura squinted at her.

"Are you really not going to tell me the arson story after you brought it up, Kouchou?" demanded Sakura. Tsunade shrugged.

"Not while I'm sober. Now go. I've got a meeting with a parent soon," the older woman said, pointing toward the door.

Sakura stepped out into the hallway. As she headed up the stairs, she spotted Shikamaru teaching in one of the classrooms. She waved as she passed. He nodded once, still talking as he leaned against his desk. And while he loved to complain about his kids, most of them seemed to be paying attention as he spoke.

She stopped in the art room. There was no one there. No note on the door to indicate where the teacher had gone. She dropped by two more times by the end of the school day. Still no sign of the elusive art teacher. Shrugging, Sakura packed up her things.

There was no rush. She would try again tomorrow.

As Sakura walked out the school gate, she heard footsteps pounding after her.

"Nee-ch- I mean, Sensei!" Naruto called after her. She paused. Waiting for him to catch up to her. His messenger bag banging against his hip as his feet pounded the sidewalk.

"Are you okay?" he queried between huffing breaths. Sakura put her hand on her hip.

"After the other day, I mean. You seemed really upset," Naruto went on. Eyes wide as he stared at her.

"Yeah. You know. You start to get sentimental when you get old like me. Don't worry about it too much, Naruto," she sighed. He scowled.

"You're like... 27. You're not old yet," he argued. Smiling, she reached out to ruffle his hair.

"Aw, flattering me already? You've grown up a lot," she joked. And he grinned at her as he tried to fix his hair.

"Does that mean you're going to come back today?" he asked. Eyes going all glittery again. Sakura smiled, hands slipping into her pockets. Head tilting back to stare up at the blue, blue skies.

“No,” she replied.

“What? WHY?” Naruto demanded.

“Because I saw you sleeping in Hatake-sensei’s class again.”

“Oh, come on!” groaned Naruto as he trailed after her. All the way down the side of the mountain.

#writing #itasaku #butterfly #US Championships are on rn #it's a great time to be alive #i'm not crying you're crying #ok i'm crying

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babybluebanshee · 3 years

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Things I’ve Had To Deal With As a City Librarian: Electric Boogaloo

These are never going to stop. Time will end, and people will still be acting fucking ridiculous in public libraries.

Warning: This one involves bodily fluids.

- A woman has been coming in recently to use our computers, and printing off entire Wikipedia articles. I am not even close to joking. She’ll print off the whole thing, from the logo to the external links. Now, you might be thinking that she’s doing some kind of research or something, and just doesn’t know how to properly print something. If that’s the case, she’s researching some bizarre stuff. Highlights of her article printing sprees include: tax laws in China, BDSM, stalking laws, the movie The Dog of Flanders, and the history of the doctorate of philosophy. These articles will usually be anywhere between 40-120 pages, and she happily forks over fistfuls of dollar bills to pay for them like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

- I was checking the phone messages on a Monday morning, and we had left at 1 am. As I listened, it was clear someone had somehow butt-dialed us while they were having an argument with someone. It was probably their partner, because I heard someone’s yell “You don’t find guys like me out there anymore!” This went on for twelve minutes before the person who’s phone had called us finally noticed, and yelled, “Why is the library calling me?!” and the line went dead. I play it again for my coworker Rachel because she wanted to know why I was laughing so hard.

- The circulation desk computers (the ones behind the desk where we check items in and out) went down for three days. We were writing check-outs on a legal pad, and couldn’t shelve anything. No one could get a new or renewed card, and we couldn’t check the catalogue. The absolute kicker was, on the second day, our tech guy somehow came to the conclusion that it was fixed around 12 and went off to do a different job in a different city building. We called him back the next day because it wasn’t working, and he was absolutely flummoxed. We had to endure an extra day and a half of that because of his brain fart.

- A mom asked to sign her son up for the summer reading program. I handed her the sign up sheet and a pencil. She gave me a look and said, “Can I have a pen? I don’t like pencils. They make me uncomfortable.” No explanation, no follow-up - she just went about it like she hadn’t just said something super weird, then thanked me and left.

- Someone pointed out something that looked like mud in front of the desk. I went around to check it out and quickly realized that’s not what it was. It was poop. I went back and told Bonnie, and Donna mentioned that an elderly lady who looked decidedly uncomfortable had just left, so we figured pretty quickly that it had been her. They went out to see if it was anywhere else, and it was. There was a trail of it leading to the door, and a trail of it through the large print section. We spent a good hour and a half cleaning it. We all needed a good sit-down after that.

- We recently relaxed the mask mandate, to where it’s just recommended. The director didn’t change the signage right away (hoping it would keep people wearing their masks, or keep the anti-maskers away), so when the CDC relaxed the guidelines, you can bet we had tons of people asking when we’d change the policy. One woman mentioned it, and another overheard her, and said, “You know, you could just take your mask off and leave.” The anti-masker woman followed her into the stacks and started yelling at her, and we were pretty sure we were gonna have to break up a fight until Julie went over and asked if there was anything we could help them with. The mask woman made a quick escape. I felt bad for her, being objectively right and screamed at by an idiot, ya know.

- Bonnie found a phone in a baggie out on our patio. There’s an outlet out there for when the maintenance guys need to use the leafblower, and the person had left it plugged in to charge, and then just...walked away. The owner, a young guy of about twenty, came back around noon. Bonnie found the phone at ten.

- The museum saga continues! There’s a woman in town who kind of has her fingers in everything because her family has been living here for about two centuries, and they’ve made a lot of money running a funeral home. She’s very pushy and scatterbrained, and has so many little side projects that never pan out or she abandons, we have no idea what she’s currently working on when she comes to see us. One day, she came in, saying she needed something out of a display case in the museum. The clerk she was talking to was new and didn’t even question letting her in, and the only reason this woman didn’t walk out with a bunch of stuff that didn’t belong to her is because the director caught her and called the museum committee. And of course, they were like, “No! She hasn’t been involved with us for months! She can’t just take things out of there!” Fortunately, she wasn’t angry, she just kind of shrugged and left. To this day, we don’t know what she was trying to accomplish. This incident is what let us to institute the policy that the people picking stuff up either have to have the woman who heads the committee (Melissa) with them when they pick things up, or she has to tell Travis in advance when someone will be coming. Which leads to our next story...

- A woman came in, asking to get stuff out of the museum. We asked if Melissa had talked to Travis, and she said she didn’t know, but she didn’t have texts from Melissa confirming that they were going to get the stuff out. She showed me the texts, and I could clearly see the texts from Melissa said they’d get the stuff out on the next Monday. This was Friday. She was like “I figured since I was already in town, I’d go ahead and save myself a trip”. We explained the policy to her, and told her she either had to come back on Monday with Melissa, or she wasn’t getting her stuff, since Travis wasn’t there for us to ask if he’d heard from Melissa. The lady kept insisting that Melissa told her it was okay, so finally, the assistant director had to call Melissa, and ask her if it was okay if she went in. Melissa was like “oh yeah, it’s fine, just make sure she takes pictures of what she takes.” It took us an hour to finally get this twit squared away, all because she didn’t feel like driving back into town three days later for a moth-eaten army hat.

- Since it’s June, I have my Pride display up, and so far it’s had really positive reception. The only slightly dodgy experience was when a girl of about sixteen came in with her mom, and while the mom was distracted, the girl pulled a book off the display (I remember specifically it was Tomorrow Will Be Different by Sarah McBride), and hid it behind her back, clearly not wanting her mother to know. They had to renew their cards, and I’m pretty sure we both had tiny heart attacks when the mom noticed her hiding it. Luckily, mom was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, but a small part of me remembers that feeling of hiding things from your parents because you’re scared how they’ll react loud and clear.

- On the opposite end of the Pride display stories, is the one where a little girl came in with her mom and saw it, and pulled a kid’s book about Harvey Milk and begged her mom to could get it. And as if that weren’t heartwarming enough, when my coworker Sherri checked them out, she noticed the girl was wearing a Pride tank top (with the Gilbert Baker flag and the explanation of the colors on it), and how the mom mentioned the girl had been wanting to read the book forever, and she was very excited they’d finally gotten their hands on it. When Sherri relayed this information to me, I nearly cried.

- There was a guy who set up his laptop on a table in the teen section, pulled out his phone, and proceeded to call several banks in the area (on speaker), trying to transfer a large sum of money in cash. I’m pretty sure I heard him say the words “twenty thousand” once. He kept getting more and more annoyed when the banks wouldn’t do it (probably because the small ass banks around here don’t carry that much cash at a time), and just kept getting louder and louder. Not even really angry, just like, if he spoke louder, they’d relent and let him do whatever he wanted. He came over later to ask if we had drinking fountains, and that somehow devolved into him telling me about how Middle Eastern women are all hateful because they “have a chip on their shoulder” because “they make them wear burqas” and “they get treated like crap”, all because one hotel staff member one time was slightly rude to him. I just stood there and nodded and fought every urge in my body to kick him in the groin. When he finally left me alone, I went back into the workroom and just said, loudly, “What the shit was that about?!”

#woe to the librarian #daily life with blue

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