library love letter

Dear Self,

I know how you’ve been feeling today. Your life feels empty, and the sad truth is that you have nobody to blame for anything that’s happened . Unlike most people, you haven’t blamed yourself, because you know that you have done everything in your capacity to make things work, to make things happen. I know how ambitious you are, and you do everything you need to do to make your parents proud, to make them happy again. You have no one to share your pain with. Mainly since your pain isn’t because of some tragic accident or loss of life, neither is it because of a sappy breakup or a nasty flu.

But you can feel your true self breaking down a little bit more with every passing day. There’s so much you want to do and so much you want to achieve and you know that you have it in you, yet it’s always a dead end.

You look back in time and see a different version of yourself, someone you can’t recognize now. You have no idea how to define yourself any more. You were a social maniac and have always found yourself the most comfortable among people, lots and lots of people, friends, foes, family, strangers and you managed to plant a seed of memory into everyone you’ve ever met.

Now you’re uncomfortable to be around people, you repel even making a healthy eye contact with someone passing by. I know you aren’t scared or tense to interact with them - to ask how they’re doing, but you’ve lost the urge to make bonds anymore.

You’ve met all kinds of people, seen through each one of them but you’ve realized that no matter how well you know and understand them, you walk right into a boulder beyond which you cannot see, beyond which you know there’s a spot where all their weaknesses lie, and you peek between the brick walls and recoil back - you have seen the ugly side.

This side of them is nasty and no matter what is said or done following it, you’ve lost your trust, you just can’t go back to square one all over again. You know you can never be the same with them again. And as you walk away from them, you know they’ve taken off a small chunk out of you. These chunks total up to the whole of you and you lose yourself running away from them. You cannot risk losing anymore. So you walk alone, and everyday you die a little more.

You now focus on the few people you trust and you’d do anything for them. I know very well how greatly you suck at expressing your love towards these people, somehow you feel that if you reveal it to them you’ll lose the love you have for them, they’re eager and hope to hear it from you. Your family wants to hear you say that you love them. But you just cannot, because you’ve never learned how to. You’ve never told anyone confidently the way they show it movies, to confess love. You love them too much, it’s scary to say it out loud. But you show it in ways nobody ever does.

You have your own weird ways, only if they could listen. Only if they could listen when you scream at them and cry out of guilt the very next moment, when you swear at them now and internally curse yourself next, when you ignore them because you do not want to say you’re sorry, when you plan big to see them happy, when you struggle to smile even as you’re dying inside only so that they don’t sense your sadness.

You are scared to express that you are vulnerable and you are scared to admit that you are scared. You prefer to be an emotionless robot to them, because you’ll never be able to prove how much you really care. They distance themselves from you naturally, and again, you die a little bit inside.

But you know you’re amazing at being a lioness when you want to, your wounds make you stronger and that’s how you like seeing yourself - a lioness on the hunt. And you walk with all your pride as you walk by the people that you’d rather have by your side, again you die a little inside, yet you walk alone with all your pride.

Loads of Love,

- J.E.M
Libraries are a great bastion of physical experience—a literal city of books, with laws and codes and maps and roads through high paginated towers. This is also a magical thing. Any city is. Any forest in which you might get lost and meet a fairy or a monster or a companion.
—  Catherynne M. Valente, “We Are All Wyveraries: A Love Letter to Libraries”

Letters from Karazhan

Library Services at Elsewhere University: A Guide and Compendium; Part Two: Staff Handbook - Circulation Services

Crossposted to AO3

Pages fall under the jurisdiction of Circulation Services, the most concrete and visible department in the library. Most student pages work the day shift, and are paid an hourly rate by Campus Services’s payroll. They are part of the non-academic staff union, with all the protections that entails. There are some work experience placements where hours worked may be traded for course credit, for favours, for knowledge, or as part of the payment of a geas, curse, wager, or other obligation. Work experience students are not paid an hourly rate, and will be limited to supervised shelf-reading on floors three to six, and pre-sorting the shelving carts.

Applications for student positions can be dropped off with the administrative assistant on the eighth floor (getting safely to the eighth floor and back again is considered to be the first part of the application process), submitted electronically through the library’s website (navigating the deepest corners of the library website and emerging without losing small fragments of your short term memory and forgetting what you were there for is considered to be an alternate first step to visiting the eighth floor), or delivered to the bees in the rooftop garden by whatever means necessary. Kindly note that carrier pigeons do not fare well. Students enrolled in undergraduate library science courses, or with prior library experience, may be considered for part-time term circulation clerk positions.

Day shift student pages are always sent out in pairs, and will sign in and out together at the beginning of each shift. They are expected to wear closed-toed shoes, and fill their pockets full of salt packets and library-issued paperclips before leaving the circulation workroom. Most of the shelving carts are steel, and like all shelving carts in libraries everywhere, tend to have a mind of their own that can only sometimes be attributed to the one wheel that won’t stay straight. The carts have their share of dents, scratches, and mysterious arcane markings that may or may not be graffiti. If your shelving cart locks up and refuses to turn down a particular aisle, or through a certain doorway, pay attention.

For safety reasons and to promote a culture of professionalism and public service in the library, headphones are not to be worn in public areas. While working in back rooms and offices, headphones worn in one ear may be permitted. However, if you find yourself using your headphones to block out unsettling noises in your general vicinity, consider contacting a supervisor or other senior staff member on shift to report the disturbance. We are all responsible for maintaining a healthy and safe workplace. If the oozing signs of the great ichor beast infestation of 2003 had been caught sooner, the third-floor carpet may not have needed to be replaced quite so soon.

Day pages are encouraged not to wear non-medical adaptive lenses while working. There are some things in the library that it is safer not to see. Night pages have already seen it all.

Night shift pages shelve throughout the library. Officially, this covers floors one to six, sub-basements one and two, and special collections including the ninth floor. Unofficially, the books on floors ten through twenty-three also need attention. An accurate system may yet be devised for self-shelving books, but it would not be a very safe system. The pages keep order by walking the boundaries as much as by putting the books back in the proper spot.

None of the student pages are ever assigned to shelve on the seventh floor. Instead, the seniormost person working in the circ department is tasked each night with taking up the full shelving cart and leaving it outside the elevator with exactly two-thirds of a cup of the real coffee cream from the staff fridge, always in a ceramic mug, a shot of Bailey’s in a saucer, and whatever button B9 on the vending machine by the fourth-floor study carrels has chosen to dispense. Often, it’s a chocolate bar with a wrapper in a language that you swear you used to know. Other times, fresh flowers that are just as familiar and maddeningly undefined and unnamed, sealed in a 750 ml pop bottle. One night last winter, it was a small jade carving of a salamander. In the morning, the empty cart is always waiting in the exact centre of the elevator.

The cart for the seventh floor is one of the only remaining wooden shelving carts in the library. (There is one more down in Bibliographic Services with the cataloguers, and a third up in Special Collections.) Most days, this is unremarkable, but there was one morning last spring when the morning circ staff opened the elevator to find that the seventh floor cart had sprouted into small branches, bearing tiny white flowers that smelled like a cross between hawthorn and lilac. By sunset, the twigs had grown brittle, and the floor was littered with petals, and by closing, all traces were gone, except for the sprig that still sits on the Circulation Manager’s desk. She keeps it in an old-fashioned ink bottle, inherited from her predecessor, and the brnach has started to put out small tendrils and shoots. Eventually, it will be transplanted to the rooftop garden. There is a reason for all of this, but it is not a secret that can be shared.

The Circulation Manager (commonly known as Circulation) oversees the circulation desk and staff responsible for check in and check out, the pages, membership services including fees and fines, co-ordinates wards and security for main-floor entrances and exits with building maintenance, ensures the borders are patrolled, an efficient and effective workflow of materials is upheld throughout the library, and a high standard of customer service is maintained by her staff throughout the library.

She has conversations with freshman pages about appropriate footwear (it’s admirable when those who have come back… different still show up for their scheduled shift, but barefoot is not acceptable for safety reasons while working), ensures to the best of her considerable abilities that no-one loses their arm in the book drop abyss, comes in after-hours several times a semester to arrange staff meetings by seance for the night pages, and co-ordinates and heads up the search parties into the Deep Library on a regular schedule that is posted by the photocopiers and study room sign-up sheets.

She wears a chain of linked paperclips wrapped twelve times around each wrist. It looks whimsical. The paperclips look like everyday cheap steel wire. It is neither of these things. One wrist is iron, and the other is silver. The number of paperclips vary. Rumour has it when she was on the bargaining team during the last round of union contract negotations, at the end of it all she’d gained a handful of coloured paperclips on the right (iron) wrist, and the number of silver paperclips had dipped by half. But the negotiations didn’t go to arbitration, and the library didn’t lose any staff–none of the day pages have vanished en route to their shift between the dorms and the library since.

She values efficient workflows and common sense, good customer service, strong coffee, the protective power of an iron-tipped javelin of indeterminate origin that’s stashed behind her office door, and keeping all beverages in containers with a lid while working at the circ desk. There are rumours that she has eyes in the back of her head. (She doesn’t. She just borrows other sets of eyes as needed.)

The library diviner has foreseen that there will come a day of sacrifice where, gaunt-faced and battle-worn, she will be down to a single chain of paper clips around each wrist, facing down an unseen foe with a broken javelin–or there will not.

There are three senior staff (one library tech, two full-time clerks), nine part-time clerks on the desk, and nine in the back. The pool of student pages is a shifting total.

The library tech in circulation is responsible for the scheduling, for training the pages, updating policies and procedures, acting as shift supervisor, arbitrator and sentinel as needed, and ordering supplies. He’s a relatively new grad, and is still getting used to the ins and outs of the job and the library. He’s braver and more resourceful than he thinks he is. Last Sunday shift, he broke up two make-out sessions, called Campus Security to deal with a third incident that had gone rather further than making out, and informed a large, wet black horse that was dripping on the marble floor in the foyer that offering rides to students is considered to be soliciting goods and/or services and prohibited by library policy.

Circulation staff in the back process returned items that arrive through the book drops, intercampus mail, and dropped off on the library doorstep in the dead of night in a padlocked trunk or in a wicker basket swaddled in blankets embroidered in a script that twists and writhes when you try to read it. There is a whole new level of blasé to odd-things-found-in-books when a bacon bookmark is positively mundane, and some of the more archaic items may actually take off a finger. Safe work practices on material handling, ergonomic workstation adjustment, and rudimentary cursebreaking are part of the core training for the position.

Circ staff need to be fast, efficient, detail-oriented, and have the focus to not be lulled into a false sense of complacency by often-routine work. A logical mind with just the right sort of twists, and you can untangle the oddest errors in the circulation records. Enough experience, and you can tell when something’s off with a book just by the feel of it in your hands, whether it’s the subtle swell of water-damaged pages, or the lingering pins and needles of a forbidden tome returned without its library-issued protective envelope from special collections.

The main book drop has affectionately been nicknamed the abyss, partly due to its often-unending nature, and partly because of the strange treasures that will surface from its depths on occasion. Crumbling manuscripts and scrolls with no library markings appear regularly, as do engraved stone tablets, elaborately beaded woven cords, and silk fans. Pre-Cambrian fossils appear to be in vogue this fall, dropping in with the overdue reserve material at a rate of two or three a day. Items such as these that are returned in error from other libraries are placed on a reserve shelf waiting to be claimed for a period of no less than one lunar month before being moved to the lost and found.

The self-checks are temperamental. There are rumors that they’ve developed artificial intelligence and are conspiring to recruit the photocopiers next. It will still take one of the clerks on the circ desk, however, to troubleshoot your missing book that you swear you returned (shelf checks for claims-returned items are entrusted to the night pages) and waive your overdue fines (temporal shifts are mapped at the beginning of each semester, but have been known to ebb and flow, often in correlation with the phantom trains’ unfathomable schedules), figure out why your card and PIN won’t let you into the aggregated database searches for journal articles (often the price is too high to be paid for database licenses).

The circulation desk staff are the keepers of the Lost and Found. There is always the mundane detritus of water bottles and mittens, forgotten notebooks, and iron washers plaited into lanyards for the campus rec centre. Sometimes, there are more arcane items. This week’s finds include: a small linen bag stitched in red thread, full of yellowed bird bones and a smooth, round river rock; a perfect replica of an original NES Gameboy, carved in petrified wood; a string of twenty-seven broken mood rings, hung on a leather cord; and two kilograms of an unidentified substance that looked like marijuana but smelled like raspberries, which was turned over to campus security for further investigation.

There is always a stash of plastic beads in one of the drawers at the circ desk, along with a mixed handful of coins and dried leaves, keys to several filing cabinets and doors that no longer exist, another labelled key that will actually open a door that doesn’t exist, date-due stamps that continue to appear like talismans though the library hasn’t used paper cards and stamps for sign-outs since the late eighties, and the one little-used lower filing cabinet drawer that is sometimes full of handwritten overdue notices from seventy years ago, sometimes opens on a swirling, screaming void, and occasionally contains green moss, mushrooms, and a faint bioluminescent glow. Don’t eat the mushrooms–they’re a protected variety making a slow comeback from the brink of extinction. Don’t drop things into the screaming void–that’s just inconsiderate.

The circ clerks need to be fast, accurate, have a head for multiple policies and procedures, the good judgement to know when to follow the rules, and when to bend them. They need to know when to turn a blind eye to the seven-foot thorn-crowned figure frowning at the book return, and when a faint whisper behind them while unjamming the photocopier is cause to whip out the emergency salt box from behind the desk.

As everyone in the department will tell you, Circ is the life-blood of the library, and keeps material flowing through its vast and beating heart. The Library would grind to a stagnant and useless standstill without the Circulation Department.

Notes: Somewhere along the way, this has turned into a love letter to libraries and the people who work in them.

Part OnePart Two Part Three (Parts Five to Seven forthcoming)


anonymous asked:

If you still want to do the pairing prompt thing could you do either 57. "Teach me to fight" or 72. “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it"? Or whatever you want, I just love your writing

i’m laughing because i’m still working on a (currently) 38,000 word fic that essentially boils down to “teach me to fight” so i’ll do the second prompt instead! you didn’t specify a pairing but i’ll assume exr!

this, uh, turned out way longer than i think it was supposed to.

Keep reading

The Library: Love Letters (Taehyung x OC) | Part 2

A/N: I’m going to be updating quite a lot today, but on the other hand, I’m just glad that this series is going pretty well. I’m surprised that it’s getting much more attention that I hoped it would have. Anyway, happy reading and I hope you like it~

The Library: Love Letters | Part 2

Parts: Prequel | Teaser | 01 | 02

(Taehyung’s POV)


I was never an expert when it came to love, and neither will I ever be an expert.

Love is something no one could ever understand. It is something that is supposed to be felt, expressed, and to be given to someone whom you hold closely to your heart.

But love is something that has it own works of magic. It could bring two completely different people together, they could be the worst of enemies, and yet they would somehow find an attraction towards each other.

I guess this is what makes love so significant.

But the only downsides of love is that you’ll never know if you’re being given the same amount of love back, or if that specific person even loves you the way you love them back, or even worse, if they’re even feeling the love that you’re giving them.

And I guess this is why it splits two past lovers apart—

Keep reading

1.You were a speeding train, all roaring metal and screeching wheels. I would have stood on those railroad tracks if it meant I could stop you, I would have climbed them like a ladder if your arms were waiting to pull me to over the other side.
2. People are good at leaving if they know you’ll still be there when they decide to come back.
3. I have a collection of things I forgot to return. From library books to love letters to shadows of every boy I have kissed.
4. The thing about trains is that they always come back. Even if there is blood threatening to splatter, even if there is someone waiting to jump.
5. I tried to scrub away the places that still remember you. I lost my skin. I lost my voice.
6. Some mornings I dream of pressing my toes along the guard rails again. I have bruises from the last time, but baby, most days I still crave the suffocating steam and the roaring engines. Most days, I still want to jump.
7. Stop doing that with your hands. Stop searching people’s spines for the backbone you never had. You did it to me, you did it so I would fall back into your arms even when my legs tried to stand their ground.
8. You are a thief with an empty gun.
9. All of your bullets are sitting here in my chest, they smell like they are rotting. Or maybe it’s the the flesh around them.
10. I try normal conversations, and your name constantly trips over my teeth and lands sloppily on the floor. It forgets to apologize for kicking other people in the face.
11. My friends are starting to notice the way you hang off my mouth like my lips are monkey bars. Like I am a dying a tree and you’re a ripened peach suspended in midair.
12. My hands quiver when holding the dark, it reminds them too much of the nights when I loved you.
13. I am trying to pick you out of my teeth, but my hands won’t stop shaking.
14. You probably already kissed someone else. I probably should, too. But the truth is, I like the way missing you feels.
15. I’ve been waiting at this train station for a while now, something tells me you’re not coming. Something tells me I’ll be back tomorrow, anyways. Something tells me I’ll never buy that car I wanted. Just in case you show up here. Just in case you miss home.
—  Y.Z, Train stations and other dirty places
The Library: Love Letters (Taehyung x OC) | Part 1

A/N: I do strongly advise you to read the prequel mainly because you would probably misunderstand and get confused about most of the parts in this story, and the prequel will give you a base to know every single thing. Just an fyi. Happy reading~

Parts: The Library - Prequel | Teaser | 01 | 02

The Library: Love Letters | Part 1

OC - Jaeun

People ask me why I’ve never been in a relationship ever since I graduated high school. Coming from my friends, it was a pretty harsh hint to use just to get the point of ‘you-need-to-start-dating’ across. But what they never understood was that I wasn’t the type of person to ‘date’.

I was never the person who you could randomly approach and make out with. I was never the person to go out on blind dates and have one night stands with hot guys who were practically desperate to get into a woman’s pants just to fulfill his lustful desires.

But, I was the person who was likely to wait for ‘him’ to somehow come along at any point of my life. ‘Him’ being that guy who will somehow understand why I don’t like going on blind dates and having one night stands with hot guys who have fluctuating sex drives. ‘Him’ being that guy who will somehow understand that I’m not the person who you could randomly approach and make out with.

‘Him’ being that guy who would understand me. And I haven’t been in a relationship because of ‘him’.

‘Him’ being Kim Taehyung.

But this only comes to my second point of the whole ‘you-need-to-start-dating-Jaeun’ situation.

The second reason as to why I haven’t been in a fully committed relationship or a fling is that I’m still in love with Taehyung.

The only problem is that we both stopped talking, lost contact, and never saw each other after we both graduated from high school.

Other than that my friends just don’t seem to get me.

Keep reading