Ten thousand years ago the Blue Paladin was Altean, and the Red Paladin was Galra. Ten thousand years ago, in peacetime, the Red and Blue Paladins fell in love. Ten thousand years ago, war broke out, and love that was once encouraged became heresy. Ten thousand years ago, the Red and Blue paladins made a promise they couldn’t keep.
“Take it slow.” Keith’s voice is steady, but as Lance’s eyes struggle to focus his face is a blur. The image goes shaky and then comes clear, shaky then clear, like looking into water. “Pretend it’s low tide. Tell me about the ocean again.”
Now through the camp the morning gun resounds: Now, noisy Gibbs the nightly watch relieves Up, up my sons! Grave Harrison exclaims, ( a learned clerk and not unknown to fame) and forth displays large packets unexplored. Tilghman, accustom’d to the well known voice, Pulls up his stockings smiling and preludes His daily labor with some mirthful stroke But falls, like, down without inflicting pain. Kidder of gentle soul, and courage true, And dearly lov’d by all for worth most rare, Such as in times of yore fill’d Bayard’s breast, Uprose, to plead for others longer sleep. But not might smooth the ancients care-worn brow He restless would pace the hut & still On Ham, and Henry call; congenial pair Who in rough blankets wrapped snor’d loud defiance To packets huge, to morning gun & Gibbs! Fort oft in gamesome mood these twain combin’d To tease Sctarius through him they pris’d Next to the chief who holds the reins of War.
Source: Diary of the year 1778 by James McHenry
Robert Hanson Harrison calling them “my sons” when demanding that they wake up and get their asses moving. Tench Tilghman already getting himself ready but tripping and falling (he is unharmed). Richard Kidder Meade sitting up and asking that they be allowed to sleep for a little bit longer because he is the best. Harrison being undeterred and gets referred to as “The ancient” (There it is again! Calling him Ancient!! It was more than just John Laurens!) as he paced and tried to get Alexander Hamilton and McHenry to get up but Hamilton and McHenry are protesting the large packets of new letters Harrison has brought for them, the wake-up guns, Caleb Gibbs being noisy, and just not wanting to get up for work in general by wrapping themselves up tighter in their blankets and snoring louder just to tease Harrison.
This brings me joy. Everything about this is 10/10. Anything that gives us a glimpse of life at headquarters for the aides, in general, is a 10/10.
Request: Could you do something fluffy w Lin, idk why but could you?- anon
Summary: “you’re talking to yourself in a silent library about how much you hate studying and how you’re going to fail, need help? i just so happen to major in that subject and oh shit, you’re really cute”
Warnings: first fic? otherwise just lots of fluff and a little awkward Lin.
A/N: have fun, and I’d really appreciate feedback!
You walked out of the library, book in hand. You were reading as you rounded the corner. You heard bubbling laughter coming from down the stairs. A smile formed on your face. You went down and saw exactly as you expected.
“What on earth are you doing to him?” You asked your husband, eyebrow raised, albeit the smile from earlier still plastered on your face. They both straightened up at once.
“Oh….just….” Adam began, but he was cut off.
“Daddy was teaching me how to fight, Mama!” Your five year old little boy came running up to you.
“Was he now? Who won?” You glanced between both of your boys.
“Me, of course” they both answered. They shared a glance of disbelief that the other would claim victory.
“Well, then!” Adam stated. “I declare a rematch!” Both of the boys laughed and went back to wrestling on the floor. You sat down in your chair with the book in your hand. You smiled at the scene before you. Suddenly, your son stopped and looked up at you, an excited look on his face.
“Mama…what book is that?” He asked, eyes gleaming. You grinned, glancing at your husband.
“Romeo and Juliet.” You smiled down at him. Adam groaned.
“Oh not that one again. You’ve read it to him twice already! The whole way through!” You chuckled at his tantrum.
“Yes, and, perhaps i’m wrong, but I do believe that the last time I read it, I saw you smiling.” You smirked at Adam as he huffed.
“I did no such thing.”
You grinned at him before turning to your son.
“Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”
You didn’t comment when you saw the corners of Adam’s lips turn up ever so slightly.
Damian one day decided to snoop around the library, he was bored and was grounded from patrolling due to him trying to escape the manor at night and getting caught.
He went to the back section, he rarely ever went this far. He pulled out a few books hopping for one to trigger open a secret passage way, much to Damian’s dismay a white letter fluttered out. Damian scrunched his eyebrows in confusion but quickly picked up the decaying letter, it had a slight yellow tinge but the letter seemed to have never been opened.
He ripped open the letter pulling out the paper inside.
‘Dear my beloved Bruce, I decided to run away from my family. They have always dictated my life and actions, but you taught me to think freely, to let go. They don’t approve of us and planned to send me away, but I will not let them do so. I thank you for teaching me this way of free thoughts, I will not tell you where I’m going but I do know one thing, we will meet again if we are meant to be. Love, Y/N’
Damian’s eyes widened after reading the letter, he quickly ran out the library note still in hand. He rushed to the living room where he heard the familiar voices of his bickering brothers.
“No Jason you just can’t-”
“GRAYSON!” Damian cut Dick off and quickly handed him the letter, the boys huddled around him reading over his shoulder.
“Who’s Y/N?” Tim asked snatching the letter out of Dick’s grasp.
“I have no idea, does Bruce just have a bunch of secret relationships and more spawns of his running around that we aren’t aware about?” Jason snatched the paper out of Tim’s hold while Damian glared at him.
“Y/N?” Alfred was eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Who is she?” Damian questioned the butler. “She was Bruce’s first girlfriend, his first everything. He was madly in love wit her but her parents didn’t approve of her dating a Wayne son, they wanted her to marry into another higher class family to seal some deals.” Alfred sat down on the couch over looking the letter.
“Master Bruce became devastated after her disappearance he never really loved ever again, I don’t think he ever got over her.”
“Do you know what this means?” Dick clapped his hands in excitement, “No, I don’t.” Jason said sarcastically.
“We need to find this Y/N person! To make Bruce have an actual Valentine.” Tim rolled his eyes, “We don’t even know anything else but her name.”
“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N, I wish you all luck.” Alfred walked out as the boys began to scheme.
“Are sure this is her?” Jason quirked his eyebrow, “Well she seemed elated when we mentioned Bruce, I’m hopping she is.” Tim answered as they waited for Bruce to come.
“Why are you all calling me? Did Damian stab Jason again?” Just as Bruce walked in asking questions the door was knocked. Dick ran over and opened the door revealing a mature women with a warm smile on her face.
“It’s been a long time Bruce.” She smirked as Bruce’s jaw dropped.
the prompt: no one thought the obvious hufflepuff jimin would be sorted into slytherin. because of this, many people turned their back on him out of fear. you, a ravenclaw, aren’t afraid of him. in fact, you’re only annoyed by him. but what if the slytherin is only annoying because he doesn’t know how to portray his true feelings?
author note: I’ve been writing this one on and off ever since namjoon sorted the members at that fansign and i finally finished it!! pls enjoy!
Isn’t it odd how much fatter a book gets when you’ve read it several times? As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells, and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower, both strange and familiar.
A little update: It is now my march holidays and I’ll be able to go out to study and post more original content (finally). My first term is now finally over, I received almost all my test results (in which I didn’t do very well in, unfortunately) therefore i’d have to pull up my socks higher and higher and higher and higher
I went to the library to study after giving a presentation together with my voice ensemble, and I went to the very famous orchard library where the interior is to die for (yall should really check this place out when you guys are at Singapore !!) Was super productive today, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I can remain this way throughout the holidays !!
but yes, I’d be studying more, and being on tumblr checking you guys out… I’m alive, guys !! That’s all for now, continue pressing on, focusing, studying, getting stuff done and see the fruits of your labour after ;)
I Know Too Much about how libraries and librarians work. This resulted in complicated headcanons about job roles and org charts, trying to figure out how the behind-the-scenes of all the accumulating bits of canon and fanon would work. Hope it’s okay to share this here.
Libraries contain vast amounts of information that create possibilities, and stories, that have an immense amount of narrative weight and power. They are basically one giant liminal space, but one that exists for the people that use it. And it’s the people that work in the library that create that connection.
The Fair Folk have opinions about librarians. There’s a certain amount of idealism involved that would make them vulnerable, but so much of what they know and do is dangerous. They are accorded a certain not-inconsiderable amount of respect and caution, let’s say, and leave it at that.
There are two kinds of librarians at Elsewhere University, two sides to the same coin. There are the librarians who have an employee ID number, and a title on their nametag. They have lunch breaks, vacation time, and salt and iron in their pockets and stashed in odd corners in their desk drawers and offices, just like the rest of the staff and faculty. And then there are The Other Librarians. The other librarians can be found on floors ten through twenty-three. Officially, there are nine floors to the library. (This does not include the rooftop garden that is not accessible by stairwell or elevator.) The sub-basements are officially recognized. The tunnels are not.
The other librarians also have officially-issued library nametags. All they say is “librarian.” Some of the other librarians may have been human once. They may have officially retired. They may have learned too much, or willingly given up something that held them tethered to mundane cares outside of The Library, or made a bargain for something the library needed.
There are stories of a cataloguer, best of his generation, who reached a point where he could recite chapter and verse of the standards, never misjudged a subject heading or used the wrong cutter number. The arcanest of arcane inscriptions held still for him while he captured the true author and all relevant cross-references. There was not a text he could not read, or element of biliographic control that he could not master. The years went by, and the standards changed, Anglo American Cataloging Rules superceded the Rules for Descriptive Cataloging, ISBNs were introduced, AACR became AACR2, and a switch from cards to computer records loomed large. He knew so much, but was afraid so little of it would still be relevant. He made a deal.
He wasn’t the first. There are still cards appearing in the card catalogue today written in copperplate Library Hand script, as proscribed by Melville Dewey, with a pen and an inkwell.
There are still memories on the lower floors of a reference librarian who could find anything. There are people on staff who worked side-by-side with her on late night reference desk shifts, and tell stories of how she had an infinite command of Boolean logic to wring every penny out of the paid-by-the-second online search services. There was not an annotated bibliography or index that she didn’t have at her fingertips, and she could walk a student though the reference interview from “I need a book, I guess” to “help me find three print sources for my introduction to pre-confederate Canadian literature mid-term paper” in twenty seconds with a smile. Rumour has it that she bargained away the memory of every childhood pet she ever had to get internet access in the library for undergraduates. Officially, she retired in the late nineties. But in the Deep Library, there are those who can coax the dial-up modem into connecting to a Dialog subscription that the university hasn’t paid for in two decades, and bring back an answer in seconds every time.
There are fading echoes of the year that the entire cataloguing department and half the reference librarians vanished in the stacks in the early 1940’s. The university was smaller then, and the protections that were needed to balance a tumultuous time in world history took a terrible toll. It was said that if you stood in certain parts of the stacks, you could hear the air raid sirens, and watch the collection grow as refugee books were taken in. There were dark whispers that some of the staff disappeared into the library in a trade for safety for family members or one of the other desperate bargains made in wartime, but some were promoted to the upper floors without warning because the library didn’t want to lose their valuable talents to conscription or worse.
If the Library needs you, it will take you. If you are lucky, it will be on your terms, at a time of your choosing. In most cases, a masters’ degree in library and information sciences from a nationally-certified graduate program is required, though in some rare cases, an equivalent combination of education and experience may be considered.
Most undergraduates and visitors (both the mundane kind that come from outside the campus, and the Visitors), and some university support staff, will leave with a vague impression of any of the librarians as an ominous yet helpful shape, and an overwhelming sense of sameness. This is a type of protective camouflage that the library generates, and it extends to cover all the librarians, the one that leave at the end of the day, and the ones that do not. They cannot all be the same. It is, of course, impossible to run a library without a wide and varied pool of skill sets and personalities, all of which contribute to the, shall we say, unique personalities, egos, interdepartmental rivalries, feuds, and alliances that are the lifeblood of an academic library.
This protection waxes and wanes depending on the year. During the spring and summer semesters following the Chemistry Majors’ Revolt, anyone remotely associated with any of the science departments would find themselves on the doorstep of the library with a ringing in their ears like the sudden absence of a loud noise, holding the books or other information they’d gone to the library to find, with no memory of how it got there. An entire spring-semester introductory chemistry class knows the structure of an APA-style bibliography inside and out, but could not tell you when or where they learned it.
In more recent times, sufficiently motivated undergrads, graduate students, and faculty will have little trouble differentiating one librarian from another, if they are on floors one through nine. (They must, of course, be referred to by job title as they do not have names.)
There are operational needs that must be met. It’s hard to plead your case as to why the library really should keep that critical music theory database for your graduate level seminar course that currently costs as much as all of the journal subscriptions for the art history department combined when you’re not sure if you’re talking to the subject liaison librarian for fine arts, the head of interlibrary loans, or an eldritch creature with no face but a really excellent recall for geopolitical boundaries in medieval Africa, and a working knowledge of twelve dead languages, seven of which were never spoken by a human tongue.
(Interlibrary Loans and Fine Arts–the subject librarian, not the department–have been in the midst of a prolonged feud for the past decade over a hiring committee disagreement regarding practicum student placements and a botched exorcism. It is rivalled only by the cold war between Interlibrary Loans and Cataloguing over supply budgets that’s been running since the late nineties. Confusing one for the other would be unhelpful, to say the least.)
The Other Librarians generally do not encroach on their colleagues’ responsibilities. They are still librarians with all of the professional ethics that entails, and are generally orderly and rule-abiding, unless a fundamental principle of librarianship is at risk. (Do not speak of internet filtering within the library walls if you wish to leave with all of your fingers intact.)
The Deep Library should be approached with utmost caution, regardless. Some people in the profession say, your library should have something in it to offend everyone. EU’s library would agree to that statement, with some extensive additions, explanatory footnotes, and cautionary appendices. Respect the Library.
Welcome folks, to another installment of “The Adventures of Little Ham Man”! In this episode, the reader desperately tries to finish her essay! When she arrives at the library, what will happen? Will she finally be able to finish? Or will the little hamlisquad get in her way? Stay tuned! @sin-cake-finished-and-baked
“Hey! Why not me? I’m mature, I’m nice!” Mulligan said, moving in front of his friend. “And Lafayette was in charge last I’m the next in line!” He complained. You rolled your eyes at him, throwing your bag over your shoulder.
“The last time you were in charge, Laurens had a broken leg and Hamilton was digging through my underwear drawer,” Hamilton yelled at your response.
“Hey! That wasn’t on purpose, I was just looking for more blankets!”
“Yea, sure. But anyway, Laf is in charge. I got to type up these papers, and my laptop is fried. So, again, see you later!” You heard complaining but continued walking.