funny because i want to be a librarian

Mom with 8yo girl in library
  • girl: Moooom... I was born in bad year...
  • mom: No you didn't. Your year is fine.
  • me: Why do you think your year is bad?
  • girl: Because I'm a RAT!!
  • mom: We were reading book about Chinese horoscope and she finds out she's a rat.
  • me: Well, I'm a horse.
  • mom: And I'm a goat.
  • my boss: I'm a monkey
  • girl: Monkeys are sooo coooool!!
  • mom: She really wanted to be a monkey.
  • me: I wanted to be a dragon...
  • mom: But horses are nice and beautiful.
  • girl: Yeah, and goats are ugly...
  • mom: ...
Overprotective Much,Guardian?

Imagine Baird getting PISSED during a fight with some magic demon
Not because it hurt her, but because it hurt EZEKIEL

And she secretly sees him as her son

And she just beats the shit out of the demon or whatever she’s fighting, while Ezekiel just sits there really confused

“Baird it’s just a sprained ankle, don’t freak out”




dinosaursintheattic  asked:

So I was reading through your blog and noticed one of you is studying to become a librarian, which is what I think I would like to do with myself as well. Would you mind telling me what the classes are like?

Ah, hello, yes, I am studying to be a librarian. I have only 2 classes left before graduation, actually!

The MLS/MLIS is a great degree because it’s crazy flexible. I was told it was the “golden ticket” degree during orientation (but I wonder if every program says that just to get you to pay tuition). There’s no set major or route in the program (with the exception of SLMP, but that’s a different story), so basically you take the 2 or 3 required classes and then you’re let loose on the other 10 or so. You get to mix and match however you want.

Personally, I’m studying reference & reader’s advisory in public libraries, and I’m getting a special certificate in youth & young adult services. So for me, lots of my non-required classes were in reader’s advisory and material-based classes, and then a whole slew of youth services classes. One of my friends is going into rare books and archives, and another is looking at cataloging, yet we all end up with the same degree. At the end of the program, it’s your experience in different areas that will make the difference, and you can choose whatever the fuck you want and enjoy.

It’s funny, though, because at least half of us went into our intro class thinking we were going to study one thing and ended up somewhere totally different. I wanted to be an academic librarian. Now I wouldn’t dream of it.

I also work in a library, though, and I’ve gotten just as much, if not more, education out of that. If you can get a job in a library—even as a shelver or something—I suggest trying it. It will give you a good idea of whether or not you’d be comfortable in a library setting before you shell out tens of thousands of dollars.

Also, lurk around some on the #tumblarian & #mls tags. We librarian types like to blog about our lives (I have a separate library blog, but I’m not going to tell you what it is).

- J

anonymous asked:

prompt: cas works at a local library. one day, deans motorcycle breaks down infront of the shop. shit happens (take me for the night)

/hope i didn’t misinterpret what you meant by “take me for the night” because oops smut here you go. disclaimer: i finished this at like 3 last night so i hope its alright but we all know what im like at 3 in the morning so/

Castiel pushed his glass up as they slid down the bridge of his nose. It was impossible to focus on shelving books with the storm that raged outside the windows of the library. He almost regretted staying late to shelf the books, almost, but it wasn’t a big deal to him. He lived a block away and if he was honest with himself, he preferred the company of books over than the solitude of his cramped apartment. When Alice, the elderly owner of the library, had mentioned the remaining books that still needed shelving, he’d jumped at the chance.

“Thanks, Clarence,” she’d muttered, patting his cheek and handing him the keys to the building. He decided to overlook the fact that she had, once again, gotten his name wrong; he smiled and bid her a good evening.

Castiel cursed quietly as he reached the second floor landing. He needed to shelf the remainder of the miscellaneous books and then he was done; the problem was that the miscellaneous books were always the most tedious to shelf. He noticed a much bigger problem however: the fact that the window in the corner of the room was wide open, letting in gusts of wind and rain that soaked the windowsill and floor.

He rushed to shut the window, pausing as he heard a sort of roaring that was inconsistent with the storm outside. It was the splutter of a dying engine, Castiel figured out as he looked out onto the street below, spotting a man clad in a leather jacket astride a motorcycle. He dismounted it and took off his helmet, letting the rain drench his honey colored hair.

It took a few moments for Castiel to realize that the stranger had broken down; he watched for a few beats as the man fiddled with the engine before Castiel came to and rushed downstairs.

It was almost impossible to see because of the rain, but through the downpour, Castiel could just make out the outline of the man outside.

It seemed that the stranger had noticed him too; he gave up on the engine and straightened up to look in Castiel’s direction.

“Would you like to come in?” Castiel called out, practically shouting over the sound of the rain.

“Yeah man, if you don’t mind,” the stranger yelled back. He made quick work of chaining his motorcycle to the nearest pole and soon he was jogging towards Castiel, who stood waiting at the library’s entrance.

“What possessed you to drive out in this kind of weather?” Castiel closed the door behind the drenched man, cutting off the rumble of the rain and watching the stranger as he caught his breath.

“Serves me right for not checking the forecast this morning,” the motorcyclist answered, but Castiel was hardly listening. He watched the man as he tried to comb back his wet hair from where it was plastered to his forehead; his eyes caught upon the stranger’s handsome features and he glanced down to where the man’s soaked shirt clung to his taunt stomach, outlining…Castiel cleared his throat and looked away.

It seemed the stranger wasn’t having an easy time either; his eyes locked with Castiel’s and his mouth fell open as he tried to stutter out a greeting.

“Thanks for…uh,” he dropped his gaze and gestured vaguely at the door through which he’d entered. He composed himself for a moment and looked back up at Castiel. “I’m Dean, by the way.” He reached out his hand.

“Castiel.” Castiel took it.

“I thought the library closes at 5,” Dean said, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

“I stayed late to finish shelving the books,” Castiel replied, trying to tear his eyes away from Dean’s face.

“It’s 6:30 now, that’s some dedication right there,” Dean smiled and Castiel shifted nervously from foot to foot. “I can help you out if you want, so you can get home sooner,” Dean suggested. “It’d be the least I could do.” He grinned sheepishly.

Normally Castiel would have refused.

“There’s not much left, just the miscellaneous section,” he muttered. “But if you’d like…”

Dean smiled wider and reached to take the books from Castiel’s hands. They made their way up to the second floor together, barely fitting up the staircase side by side.

“The real question is how you plan to get home, Dean,” Castiel asked, as he picked up a stack of books from the cart that stood beside the landing.

“If the storm clears up, I’ll ask my brother to drive out and pick me up,” Dean answered before he disappeared behind a shelf. Cas watched Dean’s arms move as he placed books into their slots, wondering what would happen if the storm didn’t cease by then.


Their footsteps were accompanied down the stairs by Dean’s roaring laughter. He bumped shoulders with the Castiel, as the librarian tried to hide his smile. He couldn’t remember the last person that had actually laughed at one of his jokes, but Dean seemed to find him genuinely funny. He was glad he didn’t have to worry about being quiet in the library because him and Dean had been anything but quiet, joking and talking while shelving the last of the books.

They had finished in record time and Dean was peering out the window, surveying the storm.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, moving away from the window. “It’s still pouring, I don’t want Sammy to have to drive through this crap,” he murmured, taking out his phone and thumbing at the buttons indecisively.

“You can come home with me,” Castiel blurted out suddenly, blushing when Dean looked up at him. “You…you could stay for the night; the storm is supposed to wane by tomorrow. I only live a block away.” He could tell Dean was about to refuse when he added “It’s the least I can do.”

Dean chuckled in response, mouth curving in a lopsided grin, and Castiel heart leapt into his throat.

“That’d be great. Thanks, Cas.”


Castiel’s umbrella didn’t do much to shield the both of them from the rain; they arrived in Castiel’s apartment drenching to the bone yet laughing loudly, panting and amused.

Castiel closed the umbrella and hung it on the doorknob, turning just in time to see Dean strip from his jacket, leaving him again in a single layer that clung to his light skin. Castiel sucked in a breath and locked eyes with Dean, lids heavy and mouth open in dense breaths.

Maybe it was the exhilaration of running home in the pouring rain, maybe it was the adrenaline. Time slowed around Castiel and then his lips were pressed against Dean’s, reveling in the taste of his mouth as the man shut his bright green eyes and wrapped an arm around Castiel, pulling him flush against his own body.

They broke apart a minute later to breathe, half way to the couch that stood in Castiel’s living room. They collapsed upon it and crashed their lips together again, Castiel sucking on Dean’s bottom lip and Dean panting Cas’ name into his mouth whenever he was given the chance.

Dean tore his lips away and pushed them up to Cas’ throat, sucking on the unmarked skin that laid right above Cas’ clavicle. He pulled back to admire the mark he left and then ducked his head again to add to the masterpiece.

It wasn’t until Cas was writhing against him that he pulled away. He ran his gaze over the librarian’s lidded eyes and swollen lips, down the line of his body to where he was bucking his hips up against Dean’s thigh, mouth open in a silent moan.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathed, and Castiel arched up into his touch desperately. Dean fiddled with the zipper on Cas’ pants, sucked a mark into the man’s hip where his tan skin was just visible beneath his shirt, pulled Cas’ cock out of his boxers and stroked it twice as Cas let out a groan.

“Dean,” he stuttered, jerking his hips up to the friction of Dean’s hand. “Dean, please.”

Dean ground his knees into the floor and leaned in to lap at the head of Cas’ cock. The reaction was instant; Cas arched up and let out another shout of Dean’s name. He was practically incoherent by the time Dean sucked his length into the wet heat of his mouth.

He grabbed Cas’ hand where it grasped desperately to the fabric of the couch, and guided it up to the top of his head. It took Castiel a few moments to understand, but when he did, he gasped quietly and tangled his fingers in Dean’s hair, pulling him just a little closer and thrusting gingerly into his mouth.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed out again, his eyes fluttering shut and his hips bucking into Dean’s mouth. Dean slid his thumb over Cas’ hipbone and breathed in through his nose, sucking Cas as deep as he could and then relaxing so that Cas could use his mouth.

Fuck, he couldn’t think of anyone whose moans sounded prettier than Cas’, and he’d slept with his share of people. The librarian tugged at his hair and groaned his name, breathless and needy, always sounding like he was just at the edge of coming; the moans and pleas coming from his mouth drove Dean insane. His thrusts were more and more erratic and Dean dragged him closer, swallowing him to the root.

Castiel shouted a warning that Dean ignored, and then it was over. White-hot pleasure washed over him, making his thighs quiver as he came in Dean’s mouth with the man’s name on his lips. It took him a few moments to come to himself again; he looked down after a couple beats to see Dean sitting on his heels with an exhilarated smile on his face and a drop of come at the corner of his mouth.

“Dean,” Castiel exhaled. His fingers were still threaded loosely in Dean’s hair. “That was…that was…”

Dean finished Cas’ sentence with a wink.

“The least I could do.”

 /1 out of 7 prompts done, today’s prompts are gunna be coming in a little slowly/

imaginarycircus  asked:

That's fascinating that the writing and acting are separate for you. I've wondered what the difference there is internally. I write, but I could never act. I end up living inside the story when writing. Is there a different place or way you inhabit that world and the characters when you're acting? I'm wondering what's different between the writing and the acting. Is it because in one you're Jane and in the other you're the storyteller?

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