running librarian


He’s displaying every micro-expression tell in the book. 80% of how we communicate with one another is nonverbal.




Casekiel being the Cutest Thing Ever™ 1/∞


Jenkins in S3E9 - “And the Fatal Separation”


“Colonel Baird. Where’s Mr. Carsen?”


she will never know how much i do for her and i… i don’t ever need her to know. that’s how i still love her. even though she doesn’t want me to.


Merry Christmas @huntiingseason, hope this is what you were looking for, with love from your secret santa and fellow Aussie xx

Peter Parker x Reader, Soulmate AU

There’s a smallish public library a couple blocks down from where you live and it’s perfect for doing your holiday homework. Not many other students know about it, or if they do they just don’t use it, it’s very nearby and therefore very convenient, and the librarians who run it enforce the rule of total silence with an almost militant rigour, making it ideal for maximising your productivity.

The only reason you’ve left the cozy, Christmassy haven of your apartment for the silence of the library is because you know that motivating yourself to settle down and do your work after Christmas is going to be more practically impossible, so you gathered up your books and laptop and walked the few blocks to the library. The spot you favour during the school term is empty and you waste no time in spreading all of your things out over the table and plugging in your headphones, reaching for the nearest assignment. You’ve only been sat there for maybe twenty minutes when you’re aware of someone approaching in your peripheral vision and look up to see who it is. It’s a boy, about your age, laden down with a huge stack of books, not dissimilar to your own. He sits down nearby and gives you a small smile when you look over.

Another twenty or so minutes passes and then you feel him tentatively nudge your elbow to get your attention. He’s about to say something when the nearby librarian clears her throat sharply and looks pointedly over at the two of you. You supress an amused grin at the sheepish look on his face and you reach for your notebook, tearing out a page from the back to write on.


Would you mind if I borrowed your calculator quickly? Mine just ran out of battery

No problem. I don’t need it at the moment, just slide it back over when you’re done

You’re a life saver, thank you so much

You pass the calculator over to him, leaving the sheet of paper in between the two of you in case either of you needs to talk again. He gives you a grateful smile as he takes it and the two of you return to your work. It doesn’t take you too long to finish up the first assignment you reached for, and as you set it aside and try to decide what to work on next, you can’t help but to glance over at the boy sitting a few seats away. He has his headphones in and an adorable little frown of concentration as he pores over a remarkably dense looking physics text book, plugging long sequences of numbers into your calculator. A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you reach for your literature assignment, because even though you had come to the library to be alone so you could get your work finished, he’s really cute. An hour later, you look up to see your calculator being slid back to you, along with the sheet of paper.

Thanks again

You give him a small smile as you put the calculator away. You look from the sheet of paper back to your literature assignment before deciding that you could do with a couple minutes break, so you pull the note page towards you instead of turning back to your Shakespeare.

No worries. That physics looks pretty intense. I’m Zara, by the way.

You push the note back to him and he scans it quickly before pulling a face and starting to write back.

Yeah, it’s pretty tough. Not exactly what I had in mind for my Christmas break but whatever. Not like I could tell my physics teacher that anyway. I’m Peter.

I’m basically on the same page as you for this lit assignment. Not at all what I wanted to be doing over break, but trying to get the message across to my teacher would not have gone well

The two of you exchange notes sporadically throughout the day, and you learn that Peter lives in Queens as well, but not as close to the library as you, he doesn’t have any pets, and his Aunt May makes the best gingerbread cake he’s ever had. You get him to help you with some of your chemistry and he asks you to proof read an essay draft he’s written, and passing the notes to avoid the wrath of the librarian feels like a bonding experience. His handwriting is scrawled and a little messy, as if written quickly, and every time he passes the paper back over to you, he gives you a crooked little half smile that brings heat to your cheeks. Looking at him makes you think of your soulmate tattoo, though you’re not sure why. His first words to you weren’t the same as the ones inked just below your collarbone-figured I should introduce myself properly-and even though the notes weren’t spoken, you’re pretty sure they still count as first words. Passing notes with Peter means you’re not quite as productive as you’d hoped you would be but the day is much more enjoyable than you had expected it would be.

It’s late afternoon by the time you start to pack up, loading your stacks of books into your bag before scrawling one last note to Peter.

Good luck with that essay, I’m sure you’ll do great on it. Merry Christmas.

You’re barely out the library doors when you hear them open again behind you, and you turn around to see Peter hurrying out after you, hastily shoving papers into his bag as he goes.

“Figured I should introduce myself for real,” he says, a little out of breath, but his words make you freeze, one hand flying to where your tattoo would be, hidden under your sweater.

“Seems like a good idea,” you say slowly, and you feel like there are sparks ricocheting through you as you see Peter tense up in response, his hand unconsciously going to tug at the cuff of his sweater.

“I’m-sorry-do you-is your tattoo-?” he asks, flushing as his gaze flicks from your face and away abruptly. It’s so endearing, you don’t try to bite back the fond smile spreading across your face as you reach up to pull the collar of your sweater to the side.

“Yeah, is yours-?” you say quietly and an almost disbelieving smile of his own pulls at the corners of his lips as he tugs up his sleeve to reveal the tattoo curling delicately over his inner forearm, extending it for you to read.

Seems like a good idea.

There’s a split second where you’re both frozen, unsure of what to do next, and then you’re pulling him in to hug him tightly. His arms go around your waist and you can hear his soft sigh of contentment as the two of you just stand like that for a moment, revelling in the new and yet somehow deeply familiar sense of completeness. After a couple seconds, Peter pulls back, reaching to pull his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and holding it out to you.

“Could you-I mean-” he starts and stops again, a light flush spreading across his cheeks. “I’d really like to take you for coffee or something sometime-to talk, or-” You enter your phone number and pass the phone back to him, holding onto his hand for a second longer than you need to as you smile at him.

“I’d love that.” Impulsively, you lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, before pulling back and heading away down the street, cheeks warm as you glance back at him over your shoulder. “See you soon, Peter.”


Hey baby did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Or uh, whatever plane Bhaal hangs out in. (Probably not heaven)

One of Valdir’s endings where after ToB, he loses a divine campaign to Cyric, becomes a mortal again, and ends up a mercenary captain with laser-guided amnesia (or the roadkill drow, if you prefer). He’s not too pleased about this. But at least he finally puts on a shirt correctly.

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