#how do i interact with humans

[impossibleobservationkryptonite]

How I learned to be a better librarian, or at least how to be a professional librarian

There's a lot of stuff that they don't teach you in library school, on how to be a librarian. It's stuff that you just have to learn on your own. And the professors tell you that to an extent. But I don't know if you're like me, I didn't really believe them until I started my job. They tell you really, that this is for the betterment of becoming a librarian, but working in a library is different than learning about it in a classroom.

One thing that I learned is that, hey I can have a very loud voice when necessary. I learned that as I was yelling over the roar of the children's department "NO RUNNING PLEASE." And the kids stopped running for the most part. (I'd still say it if they kept doing it.) I also realized that you're allowed to talk in normal tones at the library. You're allowed to use a regular "inside talking voice" rather than whispers. I'm a librarian; I'm not gonna rat you out to your parents if you ask me where Colleen Hoover is (I will however give you different suggestions based on wanting Colleen Hoover books.). Just please tell it to me in a normal voice. (I also found out I sound like my older sister when I speak loudly. Which is something I'm filing away for my future therapist at a later date.)

They don't tell you how to deal with any patrons in person. Patrons are fun to interact with normally. They give you different ideas of what they want, and what they're looking for. I once got to help a patron looking for a specific photograph of the Rockettes and pizza. (Ask me about him! He's awesome!) I had to deal with a patron who was scanning her books (trying to), and would look back at me each time one didn't scan, and tell me that they didn't scan. Not asking me what to do, not asking if there's another way to do this, just telling me that they wouldn't scan. I stood up and scanned one with the library's specific barcode (she was using the ISBN barcode one), and handed it to her as it came up on the screen. She huffed and re-scanned everything. Was that petty? a little. Not too worried about it though because this was the third time she and I talked about how to scan books at the self-check desk.

You learn everything you need to know on the job. It's interesting that getting a master's is required to become a professional librarian. And it's immediate. You get thrown right in with the patrons, your coworkers, how to create booklists, how to curate passive programs. It's just interesting that this is required. I'm happy I went to library school.

I've realized that, as a librarian, you kind of just are there. You're a person who fades into the background until a patron has a question for you. And obviously, the most asked question for us is "Will you watch my kids for me while I grab my books?" That answer will always be no. Why are you leaving your children with a stranger (me. Your kids don't know me, and I don't know them. There are 50 other kids in this room, how do I know which is which?)?

I cannot stress this enough. Invest in a journal. I just invested in another one. It keeps me rather sane in the times of bootyholes and punches. It also helped with school, and me writing down ideas of stuff that I want to do at my job. So that way I don't forget and can work on it when I'm at actual work.

I also learned that your boss isn't going to tell you what you can do. I mean they will, but you can also definitely just do some of the things they don't explicitly tell you that you can't do. I started a passive program where I put all of the Where's Waldo characters taped up throughout the department, and when the kids asked about them I told them they get to rehide waldo and his friends. The only rule was waldo et al. couldn't go into trash cans nor could they go into bags going home. They also did not have to tell us where they hid them. It's been about two years, so it's about that time that I reprint Waldo and Friends and do it all again.

Scavenger hunts are your best friends. They are deceptively easy. The kids get a sticker for completing it. And they also get to see different parts of the room that they're in regularly. It helps them learn about different parts of the library, and is fantastic.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Who is this sassy lost child?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lilybug-02]

Hornet joins the festivities!

Bug Fact: The Hercules beetle is the longest species of beetle on Earth and one of the largest flying insects, measuring up to 7 inches!

First || Prev // Next

Masterpost

[minzart]

Beggars can't be choosers

Ao3 - Next

Decepticons & Reader(GN), Megatron & Reader(GN)

You find an "automatic" tank busted in the middle of the night, and as the good millitar Mechanic that you are, you fix it.

Or, the Decepticons don't have a trained doctor(yet), and you just volunteered as a substitute by their leaders' logic and standards

The sky turned purple as the sun set behind the mountains of the lonely isolated drylandscape, almost like a pure desert, the millitar base of operations growing ever small as you turned your bike gear to 6, letting go of the handle and sitting straight, enjoying the fresh wind around you and the adrenalin of steering the fast motorcycle with only your hips and balance

Some people would call you crazy to accept working at a job from 2 hours of your apartment, in the middle of nowhere, from morning to evening, but you weren't some people and it was a one life time opportunity, after all, how many people can say they work directly in fixing military tanks and jets

Exhausting as the journey to work and back was, you enjoyed your job immensely. Working with machines was your passion since small, from the radios you fiddled with to the second-hand car you first bought, to this bike you saved so much money to have, and finally to all the machinery you could fiddle with at work, some are even experimental builds, those always gave you a headache, the manuals were always so shitty, to build a machine is not the same as to fix it and the engineer seems to always forget this, but also a sense of pride, you were the first to work on them after test release, you were the first to write a good manual for them, a pioneer even

It's not like your superiors would allow an idiot to use said experiments out of training cam- a trail of smoke catches your eyes out of the main road, blending with the night sky, if you weren't so used to watching for signals of a broken engine you wouldn't have notice the fine line twirling with the wind

Now, it's in the middle of the desert, far away from any civilization, anyone with a brain would just call a tow truck... if they had a signal... wich is very unlikely, you would know, and there is a possibility to be a work colleague... ah fuck it, you grab your bikes handle with purpose and drive out of the road, ready to lend a hand, or a ride, to the poor idiot that didn't check their car before coming to the middle of nowhere

It was in fact not a car

It is worse, it's like you asked the universe when you thought about it earlier actualy, like a curse and a goddamed blessing

It was a tank, silver and black, with hints of purple, beaten all around like someone ran it over mud or a very small tunnel, so small it made scratches and dents all over, imposing, really big, one of the biggest tanks you have seem... still not the biggerst tho, with an exasperated sigh you get out of your bike and immediately pull your entry card out

"Alright, get out there, rookie who let you get out of camp in the middle of the night," you say loudly as you use the small flashlight in your keys to light the warmachine "with this unfinished beauty right here eh?!"

The top lid does not move an inch, you get closer and knock the vehicle "anyone in there?"

"I'm a mechanic buddy not an officer, if you don't show me whats wrong I can't help you" you circle around the silver tank, looking for sighs of humans foot steps, maybe the dumbass tried to walk back to camp and left this here-

A high piched sound startles you, looking around franticly until you see it came from the warmachine, the commander's hatch now open

"Oh thank fuck I though you went back to camp by foot do you know how far we are from civilization right now?!" You shout to the open lid, waiting for someone to get out...

No-one does

You look around ankwardly, noticing how alone you truly are in the middle of the night, only you, your bike and the silver tank...

"What the hell..." You wisper and start climbing the machine, noticing how it doesn't have ladders, one thing to put in its reports when you get back to work, one maneuver after another you get to the lift finally looking inside it's hull... no-one was there "what?"

You drop in, looking around, it is the inside of a tank alright, down bellow the drive seat, around valves and pistons and... oh wow, this tank did not have a gun handle, which means it's probably automated linked to a computer, the drivers seat or remotely, you have heard of tests being made for those

"Remote controlled..." You breath out, reaching for the drives seat, looking around for a radio

"And they decided to take you for a ride this hour of the night big guy?" You tap the metal wall gently and chuckles "whose idea was this..."

Finding exactly what you hoped for, you get the radio off the handle and press the signal button, a red lamp lights up, you wait for the signal to pick something... static comes through and you state your name and ID as a greeting, repeating until someone answers

"I hear you loud and clear mechanic..." a gruff voice answers, not your superiors voice, probably the night shift guard "what is your... problem... and how did you found this line?"

The voice seems to think over his words carefully, you sigh softly, a new recruit then "reporting from inside a test tank for the new automatic build, it seems to be busted, awayting orders"

"Ah..." the voice answer amused "I see the problem, due to an... incident, we are not able to send a retrieve crew immediately, would you be able to repair... it... enough to move?"

You roll your eyes, taking the radio far from you briefly, and groaning annoyed at having to work past your hours because you though someone needed help, bringing it back you answer politely and professionally before ending the transmission "I'll do my best"

You sigh again, this is going to be a long night "better start then"

You look around the hull for a tool box, and found out it doesn't exists, another thing to add to the ever growing list of notes of this model, you huff and take out your back pack "fine I'll make do with what I have"

First, the outside, lucky the road weels and track were in good conditions, if slightly damaged, but nothing that a smooth road would break, the motor tho, off that looked nasty, how did it get that bad in the first place, all dented and tubes twisted, with your hammer you did your best to put it in working function again, sometimes you hit it so hard it felt like the whole tank trembled

Untwisthing wires and mending tubes, you spend an hour only on the outside and finally go back to the hull, and there goes another hour checking the other side of the machines engines, and there you find it, along the way a piece of metal broke and is dangerously close to a fuel tube, that was already pierced and dripping a large amount of blue fuel, whatever were the tests they were performing in this thing it looked brutal

"Shit..." You crawl closer, tentatively poking the blue fuel "and even experimental fuel too... well, you didn't explode till now"

First you hammer the pointy dislocated piece back into place and away from your face and the tube, then you can finally crawl all the way in and sit properly, assessing the damage, you grab the piece of metal that pierced the pipe, breathing deeply you ready yourself and with one powerful pull you get the thing out, you hear what sounds like compression pipes working and in a panic you rapidly envolve the leaking pipe in duct tape and scrambles out back to the crew hull

The lights around you start working properly, giving a faint purple hue to the place, you feel the tank moving, and quickly, you pick up the radio forsaking formality for the sake of your mensage "wait! Wait! I have my own bike! I can follow you back to base, stop the tank!"

Then, the weirdest shit happened

"Oh I know human" came the gruff voice, but not from the radio

"But you see, I have other plans for you, little medic" it came from all around you

Like the tank itself was alive... you scream"no, no! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

Trying to climb up you twist the valve to open the lid, but it doesn't bulge "this is not happening"

You slam your fist in the metal "let me out!"

"I suggest you take a seat and rest" the voice says "we still have 3 arcs untill our arrival"

"Were are you taking me? what the fuck is this? Who are you?" you glare at the radio

"You will see" and he cackle in amusement of your despair "as for me, human, call me Megatron, and soon your Lord and superior"

You buff and tremble, as much of fear as anger, you were trapped, kidnapped even, all because you wanted to help someone else, what a great way to end the night... AND A FRIDAY NIGHT AT THAT TOO, shit... how long would it take for anyone to notice you are gone... two business day maybe? Hopefully? After all you don't have anyone waiting for you, and it's not like you have actual friends in the city or even in your neighborhood... oh you are fucked fucked

As the time passes and realization sinks in you coil in yourself, trying to keep your panic at minimum, you still had yet to meet your kidnapper and you didn't knew what was worse, if this is a matter of war or just a very good hacker

..................

Megatron was livid, absolutely fuming with anger, at the Autobots first and foremost from destroying yet another potential energon extraction mission, at himself from not calling retreat sooner, at Starscream for... every Primus-forsaken thing, honestly

This all boils down to the seekers attempt at killing him in the middle of the battle, one good shot and the warlord could feel the Crack it made inside his frame, and yet he stubbornly chose to keep fighting, if only to show his second in comand he would never fall down so easily, but his pride has yet again show its consequences in the worst way possible

Now stuck all alone in his transformation mode, energon leaking from Primus knows where, without energy to make a COMM signal nor move, the leader of the Deceptcons can only wait for anyone to find him, and he knows someone will, if not Lazerbeak then autobots, either way he knows death is not waitting for him, he still has a mission, a war, to win, he will get out of this as he did many other, worse, times

And find him someone does, a human, stupid little squishy thing, but oh so convenient it even gives him perfect covers, a rookie in the middle of the night, he waits and the thing persists it's attempts at coaching "whoever" was inside him to come out, that's when realization hits the silver mech, of course, mechanics... human mechanics are how vehicle fixers were called by your race, you, to him, were a glimmer of hope, a medic

He had to be careful, this was his chance, if only he convinces you to work him out his worse damage he could crush you after and go back to his makeshift central tower Soundwave and his surviving soldiers were working on not that far from here

He opens his lid, ignores the weird feeling of a moving thing climbing and walking inside of him, and holds a booming laugh as you, yet again, creates the perfect cover for the tyrant, to redirect his voice to only the small radio device in your hands was rookies play for him

And so he waits and watches you work your magic, holding screams of pain from your indelicate work, all in proll of him being able to move again, all a means to an end, and when you finaly gets out the part that had him critically stuck? Oh, the relief, he couldn't hold back the sigh, wich startle the little medic, but your dedication pleased the warlord, you bandaged his energon tube directly connected to his transformation cog, he was finaly able to move and transform

He though about it, transforming right now, crushing the little human inside, destroying their backwaters vehicle, and going back to his Decepticons like nothing had changed... however... the more he thought about it, about your work, your adaptability, your words

Experimental tank, you had called him, you worked with new human technology then, and was versatile enought to work in this mix of human looking but actualy Cybertronian engines, with a basic understanding you would probably be able to work wonders in his cybertronian mode or even outside the vehicle modes

The truth is... it's been two months since his awakening in this strange planet, resources were limited, his soldiers were not even close to top shape, no doctor was in his crew when they crashed into this Primus-forsaken planet, but the Autobots, oh they had their ship, every fight they could be beaten to almost scrap and would be back in perfect condition for another round, it may be not a working ship but it still had Cybertronian parts and halls, and also, they have a doctor

His Decepticons need a doctor, he needs a doctor, there is just so much vague memories and basic instruction can get you by, not one of his surviving soldiers were trained in the arts of surgery or medicine, they were no were near in finishing this second attempt of a base and building a teleportation bridge was out of question while the base was not finished, he had engineers and a spy crew not healers

But you... you were an opportunity, a better chance of survival, a first contact with the potential that humans had for servitude, the Silver warlord locked his lid, taking amusement in your despair, oh this would be his worse and yet brilliant plan yet, if he didn't know better he would think it was proposed by his own second in comand by it's insanity... however, for more that he hates it... beggars can't be chosers

[fellhellion]

couldn’t stop thinking about this

[forwomenbiwomen]

Sometimes it just makes me deeply, helplessly angry that we don't even have a word for women that doesn't originate from "wife man". And then I get into a spiral of realising over again just how powerful language is, and how immensely saturated it is with both subtle and overt misogyny. And THEN I get into a spiral of how unbelievably long "women" have been subjected to misogyny that we literally don't have a word for women that doesn't position us as property of men.

[please-read-the-manga]

Was thinking about an 'alternate universe' where a young Sasuke, in the absence of guidance on how to carry out his clan traditions, tries to connect to his fractured identity by spending time in the Naka Shrine and accidentally summons the ghost/spirit of Izuna who hears his cries of injustice and grief from the other side.

Truthfully, I don't know why it would be Izuna in particular, but I'm kind of playing around with the idea that his death was viewed as so unjustifiable and horrific by Madara that Madara's devastation over it prevented Izuna's spirit from properly/completely passing over into the Pure Lands. So, Izuna's spirit remains in this unaware-but-restless state and one day it materializes to answer the call of another Uchiha (who also just so happens to be an Indra transmigrant, like Madara, if we want to go there... maybe their emotions carry extra weight and power within the spiritual world) now trying to process his own unimaginable grief, this time over the death of his entire family, bloodline, and culture. Thus they become bound to one another (for better or worse) and Izuna is, from then on, always there, carried by (and only visible to) Sasuke on his journey...

Maybe they both come to believe that if they get justice for the clan (which they initially believe is by killing Itachi, 'the kinslayer') then Izuna will finally be freed and Sasuke will have done right by his family and avenged them. But really, I think what would actually be keeping Izuna 'stuck' is the plan that evolved (at least partially) from Madara's grief over his death, Project Tsukuyomi... thus their quest expands and the two then need to figure out how to alleviate Madara's guilt/sense of loss over Izuna's death and rekindle his feelings of hope in the world once more (ie. stopping the plan). Somehow, lol.

And I think Izuna would be a fun character to do with this with because there's so little we truly know about him, but so much we can infer due to his impact on other characters' actions/story events.

Idk, in my opinion there's just a lot of opportunity here for a good mix of heart and comedy, especially with Izuna as a more defined character that has a little more freedom than other characters to be molded. I also think having someone Sasuke can connect to, that's from his clan (but is also still deceased and a reminder of how alone he is, ie. end of the day Izuna is still a ghost, an ancestral relic of the now-dying clan) would have a profound effect on him.

It'd almost be like his own inner Kurama voice except Izuna provides no chakra or power amps, only scathing commentary on how much he hates the injustices of the village (and its Senju leadership) lol. Also, I like to think his reactions to all the in-universe stories about 'Madara's deeds' (which is really Obito) would be entertaining.

A sketchy comic since I like the idea so much haha:

[justablah56]

erm . the (not) robot polycule using that one pose reference 👍

click for better quality since tumblr hates big canvases <3

[sunnixsunshine]

"how would Sanji deal with the eating habits of a toddler?" I ask myself. And then I remember Zoro is there too and how he would absolutely eat whatever it is their kid doesn't because he knows Sanji's hatred of food waste so yeah he jumps ahead of Sanji and eats off her plate most meals. And if he doesn't eat it either then Luffy does of course! Sanji rarely does it himself because it is always either Zoro or Luffy who gets to it first.

Though he does struggle A LOT to adapt to the ever changing flavor palette of a toddler. Like one second their kid really really likes yogurt so oh yeah totally, he's gonna pick up a few things of yogurt on their next stop! Oh don't tell me you hate yogurt now, the stuff is expensive 😫 you like pudding now? Since when do you like pudding!? You haven't had pudding in, like, WEEKS!?!?!?

[hellspawnmotel]

[lazycranberrydoodles]

why does this keep happening to them

[shokveyv]

you ever meet a person who is so radiant, you are struck dumb and unable to speak coherently?

[ria-starstruck]

and also "putting everyone in a simulation will make it all ok 👍" and also "let's park next to this random system's sun" and also "we can't live on our own planet because of our own folly" and so on

[orengejoshi]

do u write fanfics? i need to GOON 💔

damn brother, you just gonna come at me like that? alright I see you

that's a great question tho! I have indeed thought about writing a fic... for years tbh...

but there's a myriad of problems

well first of all I'm not native in english. that is probably noticeable more often than not. I sometimes even use a translator, I always secretly got google/dict.cc open in a second tab. didn't formally learn english, I just snagged it by proxy listening to American Youtubers and reading manga online. that's why I prefer to ramble a bit in public or to my damn self in private areas than live-texting 1 on 1/in groups; bc I can take more time totally judgement-free. you're gonna see me "typing..." for 30 minutes and wonder wtf is taking this mf so long?!

apart from that there's dyslexia. I can't spell one word correctly without swipe-to-type autocorrect. I think all arguments I've gotten into stem from me mistyping, using completely wrong words, messing up the sentence structure etc

my brain is a single dense cloud of fog that'll occasionally split open to drizzle down a bunch of jumbled thoughts that I could turn into barely cohesive words if I'm brave enough and exude copious amounts of energy.

so my linguistic skills are not up to par. my intelligence lies more in... intrapersonal and existential departments.

unsurprisingly I've thus become a visual artist to express myself.

the catch is... that I understand paperhat, I do.

but I can't seem to draw toxic dynamics. my head is just empty about how to depict it. it's like it doesn't come naturally to me. not without going overboard and making a whole comic that I would likely abandon before even reaching the half mark. I've been given these angelic skills along with the curse that I shall only draw joyous, bright scenes.

however if I could write it... now we're talking.

as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that most of my ideas are way too dark and sober. people don't know me like that so I'm petrified about the presumably shocked response when and if I did drop smth like that.

I'm not ready for that... I have really severe OCD (that the internet is making way worse with their anxious tendencies to interpret smth sinister into any and all fiction that is not happiness and rainbows. which seems new to me, idk where this mindset to read so deep into shit is suddenly coming from. I was here 2017-19, left for like 3 years and all of a sudden everybody's fallen off their rockers)

writing domestic stuff is too boring for me... there's gotta be gut-wrenching horrors and drama and tragedy and conflict!

none of this would be PG (which is what I assume you're asking for anyway) I'd just write smut with sprinkles of character studies and a pinch of comedy mayhaps, but I used to do that about 10 years ago and it was so bad. the way I describe these scenes comes off very plump and cringe

I... might. dip my toes into it later this year.

I'll drop a few ideas in the tags... maybe 2 ideas. very roughly. without spoilers, just in case.

[littlelightfish]

This half-foot. Dandan.

Looks preety similar to this lady here (I'll put them together so you see):

Half-lidded eyes, black hair&eyes, small eyebrows, curly hair... Dandan's skin is lighter probably because of low sun exposure (dungeon), and he has tons of freckles because he preety.

This two are clearly relatives if not siblings.

Flertom is a mirror image of the lady up there. She got Chil's eyes. She even has almost the same haircut (a bit longer). She's clearly the mother. We've solved Chilchuck's wife mystery.

But this wasn't what I was going to say.

This implies that Wife and Dandan both knew Chilchuck since their childhood. Because there's no way that Chil was just friend of the sister. They're both close to the same age, and I'll say Dandan is a Younger sibiling (she gives big sis vibes, and he gives young bro vibes). So either she introduced him to her brother or he introduced him to his sister and they became best friends as kids.

Could you imagine how their relationship was after Chil's Wife left him?

He knows he has to say something, but he doesn't want to end his relationships. At the end he takes his sister's side. He distances a bit from Chilchuck, calling him an "aquitance" rather than a friend. It isn't that he hates him, is just that it's complicated. And they both know it. They're in good terms tho, they just aren't best friends anymore and they don't talk about it. Their worry is the guild, not their personal stuff.

That's why Dandan introduces Chilchuck to Laios. If they were in bad terms, he would've suggested any other half-foot. They both priorize the guild and general safety of their own race. That's why Dandan suggests Chil instead of a less experienced hafling. He cares about the union and respects Chil's time and experience in dungeons. They're on good terms, at least good enough. Summing up, I get the feeling Dandan doesn't particularly likes Chil after what happened with his sister, but he respects him at least.

[anghraine]

I was looking up a quote from my beloved "The Devil in the Dark" and damn, I'd forgotten it's so... uh. Well.

SPOCK: If so, if it is the only survivor of a dead race, to kill it would be a crime against science. KIRK: Mr. Spock, our mission is to protect this colony, to get the pergium moving again. This is not a zoological expedition. Maintain a constant reading on the creature. If we have to, we'll use phasers to cut our own tunnels. We'll try to surround it. I'm sorry, Mr. Spock, but I'm afraid the creature must die. SPOCK: I see no alternative myself, captain. It merely seems a pity.

KIRK: Mr. Spock. Capture it? I don't recall giving any such order. SPOCK: You did not, sir. I merely thought that if the opportunity arose— KIRK: I will lose no more men. The creature will be killed on sight and that's the end of it. SPOCK: Very well, sir.

KIRK: Mr. Spock, you are second in command. This will be a dangerous hunt. Either one of us by himself is expendable. Both of us are not. SPOCK: Captain, there are approximately one hundred of us engaged in this search, against one creature. The odds against you and I both being killed are 2,228.7 to 1. KIRK: 2,228.7 to 1? Those are pretty good odds, Mr. Spock. SPOCK: And they are of course accurate, captain. KIRK: Of course. Well, I hate to use the word, but logically, with those kind of odds, you might as well stay. But please stay out of trouble, Mr. Spock. SPOCK: That is always my intention, captain.

KIRK: Explain. SPOCK: Only a theory I have. [rocks fall] SPOCK: Captain? Are you all right? Jim? Jim!

SPOCK: The creature is in this area. I'll take a lifeform reading. KIRK: It's not necessary, Mr. Spock. I know exactly where the creature is. SPOCK: Where, captain? KIRK: Ten feet away from me. SPOCK: Kill it, captain, quickly. KIRK: It's not making any threatening moves, Spock. SPOCK: You don't dare take the chance, captain. Kill it. KIRK: I thought you were the one who wanted it kept alive, captured if possible. SPOCK: Jim, your life is in danger. You can't take the risk. KIRK: It seems to be waiting. SPOCK: I remind you it's a proven killer. I'm on my way. Spock out.

SPOCK: What Chief Vanderberg said about the Horta is exactly what the mother Horta said to me. She found humanoid appearance revolting, but she thought she could get used to it. MCCOY: Oh, she did, did she? Now tell me, did she happen to make any comment about those ears? SPOCK: Not specifically, but I did get the distinct impression she found them the most attractive human characteristic of all. I didn't have the heart to tell her that only I have— KIRK: She really liked those ears? SPOCK: Captain, the Horta is a remarkably intelligent and sensitive creature, with impeccable taste. KIRK: Because she approved of you? SPOCK: Really, captain, my modesty— KIRK: Does not bear close examination, Mr. Spock.