Library Aide
May. 9th, 2012 10:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charisstomaTitle: Library Aide
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 842
Birthday fiction for Sam. *snickers* I think I got all the prompts in this.
Consensual, y'all and how did that happen?
Somewhere on the far side of the library a wooden chair popped, waking from night’s humidity and reacting to re-acquaintance with the drier A/C air. Adrian always felt a start when that happened. It was better when there were people in the room with him; there’d be a general laughing at the possibility of ghosts in the library and less breaking out in goosebumps at the eeriness of it. He gave a sigh. No chance of that today, there were meetings off-site that left him alone to check-in and re-shelve the accumulated weekend’s returned books. Another chair popped hollowly from the 000 section. Appropriate. That’s where the majority of the paranormal non-fiction books were shelved.
Shrill beeps at the passing of the scanning wand, one for each book, were a good way to fall into mental torpor. Do it long enough, with no one around to talk to, and the mind glazed over. For self preservation, he’d learned to stop and skim through a book periodically. It had the added benefit of keeping him informed of the patrons’ reading tastes and whetting his own. Much easier to suggest a book if he could say he’d just read something he thought the reader might appreciate.
‘Hmmm, a decorating book. He’d never pair that color tablecloth with those plates and definitely not with what looked like tangerine candles with teal anything.’ Adrian had serious questions about any publishing house that allowed an editor to send such a thing to press.
Doll making, Soccer, Civil War history, Earthquakes and Volcanoes; he set the fiction books aside for later categorizing into their specialized shelving areas. Books on cooking, photography, and party games; couple those in with the decorating book and someone most likely was having a birthday sometime within the month. He was surprised there wasn’t a book on making invitations in the pile to be shelved, ‘Oh, scrapbooking.’ He flipped through the book, ‘Maybe there’s a chapter in there that could be applied.’ He nodded to himself when a tiny die-cut party hat and horn fell out onto the floor as the evidence added up even further. “Really Watson. It’s elementary. Cameras, games people play, and,” he pulled a face, “chicken for dinner on a table dressed in gaudy colors.” A popping chair scolded. “Alright, I hear you. Working,” he called to the ‘empty’ Library.
Since Fiction went faster and was more voluminous, that got done first. Fiction was always done first by him; non-fiction involved correcting well-meaning patron mis-shelving. He’d lay bets that there’d be many of those in the areas around where the current books were going back. Three and a half hours later without a break he held in his hand the last book, TALES OF THE CRYPTIDS:
MYSTERIOUS CREATURES THAT MAY OR MAY NOT EXIST.
Slowly, he’d started the Non-fiction from the 973.7 and the U.S. Civil War, working his way forward through what he called the country books and poetry, tidying up as he went along. He was close to the end of his four hour shift. Clutching the book on cryptids and taking a deep breath, he stepped into the most distant portion of the library.
“Adrian,” was hissed at him, “It has taken you a very long time.”
“I am supposed to be working, you know.”
“Part of your duties is polishing the monster in the library. An unpolished monster is a cranky monster.”
Adrian rolled his eyes. ‘Polishing,’ he snorted. He slipped the book into its place on the shelf.
“I delegated that duty to myself, I’ll have you know,” he said as he worked the buttons on his shirt. “And polishing isn’t the correct word,” he removed his pants, folding them neatly.
“It is if you read the right books,” the monster lisped slipping tentacles up through the legs in the plain white cotton underwear and drawing the concealing impediment down. “You should try going commando. It would allow us more time for our polishing.”
Adrian made a note to tell IT to keep the nanny filters on, even during after hours, Cthu had been visiting inappropriate websites … again. And then again, he revised, moaning as a slime slicked sucker arm found its way up the wrong direction, or the right direction depending on your definition. His head fell back against a hard body as a pressing fullness filled him. He groaned as he was held, unable to escape even if he’d wanted to. Tentacles set to work suckling, rasping on his nipples in tandem with a pointed tip flickering inside the tiny mouth of his urethra.
‘Lord, what places had Cthu been surfing on now?’ Adrian asked himself frantically. The larger tentacle inside shifted against his prostate, readying itself, and another curled around the base of his cock.
“I’ve got ten arms that need your polishing Adrian. Thirty minutes is not going to be enough, you’ll just have to work overtime.”
Adrian grunted at the slide of one well placed sucker inside. “Then you should have stayed over in Fiction under Lovecraft,” he replied.
omg Meep wrote a continuation of this Go read.
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 842
Birthday fiction for Sam. *snickers* I think I got all the prompts in this.
Consensual, y'all and how did that happen?
Somewhere on the far side of the library a wooden chair popped, waking from night’s humidity and reacting to re-acquaintance with the drier A/C air. Adrian always felt a start when that happened. It was better when there were people in the room with him; there’d be a general laughing at the possibility of ghosts in the library and less breaking out in goosebumps at the eeriness of it. He gave a sigh. No chance of that today, there were meetings off-site that left him alone to check-in and re-shelve the accumulated weekend’s returned books. Another chair popped hollowly from the 000 section. Appropriate. That’s where the majority of the paranormal non-fiction books were shelved.
Shrill beeps at the passing of the scanning wand, one for each book, were a good way to fall into mental torpor. Do it long enough, with no one around to talk to, and the mind glazed over. For self preservation, he’d learned to stop and skim through a book periodically. It had the added benefit of keeping him informed of the patrons’ reading tastes and whetting his own. Much easier to suggest a book if he could say he’d just read something he thought the reader might appreciate.
‘Hmmm, a decorating book. He’d never pair that color tablecloth with those plates and definitely not with what looked like tangerine candles with teal anything.’ Adrian had serious questions about any publishing house that allowed an editor to send such a thing to press.
Doll making, Soccer, Civil War history, Earthquakes and Volcanoes; he set the fiction books aside for later categorizing into their specialized shelving areas. Books on cooking, photography, and party games; couple those in with the decorating book and someone most likely was having a birthday sometime within the month. He was surprised there wasn’t a book on making invitations in the pile to be shelved, ‘Oh, scrapbooking.’ He flipped through the book, ‘Maybe there’s a chapter in there that could be applied.’ He nodded to himself when a tiny die-cut party hat and horn fell out onto the floor as the evidence added up even further. “Really Watson. It’s elementary. Cameras, games people play, and,” he pulled a face, “chicken for dinner on a table dressed in gaudy colors.” A popping chair scolded. “Alright, I hear you. Working,” he called to the ‘empty’ Library.
Since Fiction went faster and was more voluminous, that got done first. Fiction was always done first by him; non-fiction involved correcting well-meaning patron mis-shelving. He’d lay bets that there’d be many of those in the areas around where the current books were going back. Three and a half hours later without a break he held in his hand the last book, TALES OF THE CRYPTIDS:
MYSTERIOUS CREATURES THAT MAY OR MAY NOT EXIST.
Slowly, he’d started the Non-fiction from the 973.7 and the U.S. Civil War, working his way forward through what he called the country books and poetry, tidying up as he went along. He was close to the end of his four hour shift. Clutching the book on cryptids and taking a deep breath, he stepped into the most distant portion of the library.
“Adrian,” was hissed at him, “It has taken you a very long time.”
“I am supposed to be working, you know.”
“Part of your duties is polishing the monster in the library. An unpolished monster is a cranky monster.”
Adrian rolled his eyes. ‘Polishing,’ he snorted. He slipped the book into its place on the shelf.
“I delegated that duty to myself, I’ll have you know,” he said as he worked the buttons on his shirt. “And polishing isn’t the correct word,” he removed his pants, folding them neatly.
“It is if you read the right books,” the monster lisped slipping tentacles up through the legs in the plain white cotton underwear and drawing the concealing impediment down. “You should try going commando. It would allow us more time for our polishing.”
Adrian made a note to tell IT to keep the nanny filters on, even during after hours, Cthu had been visiting inappropriate websites … again. And then again, he revised, moaning as a slime slicked sucker arm found its way up the wrong direction, or the right direction depending on your definition. His head fell back against a hard body as a pressing fullness filled him. He groaned as he was held, unable to escape even if he’d wanted to. Tentacles set to work suckling, rasping on his nipples in tandem with a pointed tip flickering inside the tiny mouth of his urethra.
‘Lord, what places had Cthu been surfing on now?’ Adrian asked himself frantically. The larger tentacle inside shifted against his prostate, readying itself, and another curled around the base of his cock.
“I’ve got ten arms that need your polishing Adrian. Thirty minutes is not going to be enough, you’ll just have to work overtime.”
Adrian grunted at the slide of one well placed sucker inside. “Then you should have stayed over in Fiction under Lovecraft,” he replied.
omg Meep wrote a continuation of this Go read.
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no subject
Date: 2012-05-10 11:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-11 02:43 am (UTC)*grins* I'm glad that you didn't find this too silly. Libraries are interesting places. No telling what can happen there. Chairs pop all the time in mine and I keep all the lights on while I'm in it; light switches are right by the door.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-10 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-11 02:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-11 10:36 pm (UTC)woooooooo is there a application test for librarians to see if they can be properly quiet and respectful *snicker* whilst seeing to their duties *innocent face*
no subject
Date: 2012-05-11 10:50 pm (UTC)The Library Aide *me blushing* is one of the worst offenders of the quiet rule. In my defense, it's a REALLY big room, think large room that requires team sports ability to move. Basketball, do you know basketball venue size
no subject
Date: 2012-05-12 04:11 pm (UTC)I'm now picturing you racing about a huge library singing at the top of your voice while nervous students scatter around you :D hehe
no subject
Date: 2012-05-12 04:26 pm (UTC)hmmm. The students do get a slightly odd expression, I try not to let it my feelings that they don't like my singing voice. It couldn't possibly be the song itself. Interestingly, I'm not the worst offender.. my Librarian is. *grins*
We do not RUN in the library.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-12 09:38 pm (UTC)We do not RUN in the library.
Rollerskates? Wheellies? Pogo Stick?
no subject
Date: 2012-05-13 12:39 am (UTC)We walk in the Library.
There are many Pratchett books housed on the shelves here. I've never read any. *sighs* Am tempted by The Lord of Darkholm though. A student has it. *growls*
no subject
Date: 2012-05-13 10:44 am (UTC)Ah so you're unaware that a Wizard's stick has a knob on the end? shocking! ;)
no subject
Date: 2012-05-14 09:55 pm (UTC)Is that a plunny, poorly disguised? I do believe it might be.
hmmm. *starting softly singing* "The stick goes in. The stick comes out. The stick goes in and swirls all about."
no subject
Date: 2012-05-15 06:28 pm (UTC)Oh and Meep, it's STAFF, not stick *snorts*
http://www.chaosmatrix.org/library/humor/staff.html
no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 07:29 pm (UTC)It has lots of verses apparently because a cane with a knob on the end is very versatile *radiates innocence*
*takes a breath* ME? *injured innocence* plunny you? *snif* as if I would! *pout*
....but you know, if you were to have the time, and you're offering a fic..*hopeful look*
.
.
.
.
*runs away snickering*
no subject
Date: 2012-05-12 03:45 am (UTC)well done! hope Samantha likes this. :D
no subject
Date: 2012-05-12 12:45 pm (UTC)ahem. Yes. Thank You. Samantha did seem to like it. *grins* I'm glad you did too. Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-14 04:53 am (UTC)What a nice way to get back here! Working overtime to polish those appendages *grins*
And Adrian is quite the workaholic if he insists on keeping to his routine! *is impressed*
no subject
Date: 2012-05-15 03:13 am (UTC)The work must get done. *sighs* And Adrian leaves the best part of work for last. Sparkly, well polished monsters are the best. Ask any Twilight fan.
How DID that consensual happen? *shakes head*